The Improbable Journeys of Billy Battles

Chapter 4-2

Mataio had stood by, watching this exchange

without saying anything. Then he spoke up.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” he

asked.

“Not with the law, if that’s what you mean.

But there are some people who may want to do the baroness Schreiber

some harm.”

“Baroness?” Mataio was apparently impressed

by the revelation that he had been carrying aristocracy in his

carriage.

“Please! Stop!” Katharina hissed at me. Then

turning to Mataio, she said, “I used to be a baroness, but I, uh,

resigned the title.”

Mataio was not having any of it, however.

“Please, Baroness, we should go before that carriage returns.”

Katharina gave me an annoyed look. “Now see

what you have done?”

I took her hand and helped her up into the

carriage. “Sorry. I thought it might take the edge off… I think

Mataio here thinks we are bank robbers or something.”

“Not at all. You have no money sacks,” he

said, laughing.

We returned the same way we had come along

Waikiki Road. Mataio kept the carriage moving at a trot. We passed

several of the mule-drawn tramcars that plied Waikiki Road between

downtown Honolulu and the less settled and open Waikiki area, all

the while watching for the carriage that had been following us.

Unfortunately, none of us got a look at the person or persons in

the carriage, so there is no way we could identify anybody.

I thought back to the Pinkerton man. It

couldn’t have been him. He was still standing ashore when the SS

China was nudged away from her berth in San Francisco.

“Maybe I was mistaken!” Mataio yelled over

his shoulder. “Maybe they were just in a hurry to get

somewhere!”

Katharina and I looked at each other. We

didn’t have to say anything, but we both had a strong feeling

Mataio was wrong. I spent the next several minutes looking over my

shoulder to see if there was a carriage coming up behind us. We had

gone about a half mile when Mataio pulled the Hackney over to the

side of the road next to a long white picket fence.

“This is Queen Liliuokalani’s home,” he

informed us. We could make out a large white structure hidden

behind a thick stand of palm and coconut trees and other tropical

foliage.

“Of course, she used to live in the Iolani

Palace,” he continued bitterly. “I think someday she will be

restored to her rightful place.”

“Let us hope so,” Katharina said.

“Unfortunately, there are always people who want to take away what

others have and impose their will on them. Isn’t that right, Mr.

Battles?”

“I reckon you’re right… but I am not of that

flock.”

In 1895, a year after our stopover in

Honolulu, there was an attempt by some 150 royalists to overthrow

the Republic of Hawaii and restore the queen to her throne. The

plot was thwarted when someone tipped off the sheriff.

The royalists fled to Diamond Head and, for

several days, fought a pitched battle with the government posse. It

was useless, however, and many gave themselves up, while a few fled

further inland to Manoa Valley, where they were captured. A few

served sentences in Oahu Prison. There was never another attempt to

restore the queen to Iolani Palace.

Mataio stood up and peered into the tropical

forest surrounding the queen’s house. “Sometimes you can see our

queen walking in her garden, but not today, I’m afraid.”

He returned to his seat and flicked the rump

of his horse with the reins. The buggy lurched forward, and we

continued on to the city.

“If you like I can take you to Honolulu’s

best and oldest restaurant,” Mataio offered. We agreed, and about

twenty minutes later, he stopped in front of the Wo Fat Restaurant

on the Corner of Hotel and Maunakea streets. It was a green and

white corner building running about a half-block along both streets

with pagoda-like green-tiled cupolas and white plaster walls.

“Oh, a Chinese restaurant,” Katharina said

in an uncharacteristically chirrupy voice. “I haven’t had Chinese

food in ages.”

“I don’t think I ever have, though I did

know a Chinese cook once.” I paused. “No, that’s not true. He was

from Saigon in Cochinchina, not China.”

Mataio stepped down and put a small stepping

stool on the muddy street. Then he helped Katharina climb down from

the carriage. I jumped out the other side and splashed down into a

little mud puddle.

“Won’t you join us, Mataio,” Katharina

offered.

“I am sorry, Baroness, but I must take care

of the horse. He must eat too, you know. Shall I return in about an

hour or so?”

I reached into my pocket and handed Mataio a

dollar. “That will be okay.” Then moving closer to Mataio, I added

barely above a whisper “And if you see that other carriage, please

let me know.”

We weren’t the only ones from the SS

China dining at the Wo Fat Restaurant that day. A few of our

shipmates were there also, as was Deputy Captain Partington, who

greeted us as our waiter showed us to a table for two along a back

wall. We had arrived a little before one o’clock, and many of the

tables were already taken.

“Well, I see you have found the best

restaurant in town,” said Partington, whose large round table was

about ten feet from ours. He was sitting with eight or nine

passengers. We hadn’t been seated more than two minutes when I

looked up from my menu to see Partington standing at my side, his

hand on my shoulder.

“I say, old boy, might I have a word?” He

then looked at Katharina and bowed his head slightly. “Sorry,

Baroness, but I shall have him back in a jiff.”

“That’s quite all right, gentlemen. I will

need time to figure out this menu. Shall I order for us?”

I nodded. “Yes, thanks. I wouldn’t know

where to begin.”

Partington and I made our way out of the

restaurant and walked around the corner of Hotel Street.

“Do you know if the baroness was expecting a

visitor?” Partington asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, this German chap showed up about a

half hour after you and the baroness left looking for her,” he

continued. “He said he represented the German government and

produced some official-looking papers to prove it that I couldn’t

make out. When I asked what it was about, he said that was between

him and Baroness Schreiber. He requested to speak to Captain

Kreitz. I took him to the bridge where he demanded to be allowed to

search the baroness’s cabin. I didn’t get much of the conversation

because it was all in German, but in the end, Kreitz told him he

would not be allowed to enter her cabin.”

Now it was beginning to make sense. That man

was apparently following us. I didn’t tell Partington that,

however. No need muddying the waters.

“Is there something… uh… I should know?”

Partington asked. “Is the baroness in some kind of trouble? You

know, she came to me and asked about you. At the dinner that night,

I told her you were a U.S. marshal—”

At that point, I interrupted him. “I

am not a U.S. marshal. I was a deputy U.S. marshal,

and that was a temporary assignment.”

“But the badge you showed Captain Kreitz and

me…”

“Yes, I still have the badge, but I am not

on the payroll of the U.S. government.”

Partington looked down at the ground. “I

see… but you have agreed to assist her, I take it?”

I nodded. “I guess so.” I didn’t want to go

into details about Katharina’s unfortunate past.

Partington looked up from the ground and

looked me in the eye. “You never answered me… Is the baroness in

some kind of trouble with the German government?”

“Not that I know of. But I think you and the

captain did the right thing by not letting that man into the

baroness’s cabin.” I turned and began walking toward the restaurant

door when I saw the carriage that had followed us coming down

Merchant Street. It was about three hundred yards away, and I

recognized it by its wheels. The rims were red with white

spokes.

I increased my pace. I was in a hurry to get

inside before whoever it was in the carriage saw me.

“Well, anyway, thank you old chap,”

Partington said, running to catch up to me just as I entered the

restaurant. Partington returned to his table, but I remained by the

window to see what the man in the carriage might do. He got out and

inspected the other carriages and cabs parked around the

restaurant.

It was a good thing, I thought,

that Mataio had declined Katharina’s invitation for lunch and

had driven off to feed his horse. I watched the man make the

rounds of carriages. Then he started for the restaurant. I looked

over at our table; Katharina was drinking tea out of a handleless

Chinese teacup.

I walked briskly over to our table and took

Katharina by the arm.

“We need to move right now!” I whispered.

“We are about to have company.” I looked around and saw a blue door

at the rear of the restaurant. We hurried through it and found

ourselves in a long narrow hallway leading to what looked like an

office.

“Where are we going?” Katharina hissed as I

hustled her along and through the door.

“Look,” I said, “the man from the carriage

that was apparently following us is outside. Partington told me he

came aboard the China looking for you and asked to see your

cabin.”

“What! Oh my god!” Katharina’s voice

reverberated throughout the hallway.

“Shhhhh… I don’t think he knows we’re in the

restaurant. Let’s stay here and see what’s what.”

I cracked the door open just enough to see

the man enter the restaurant. He wore a stylish brown business suit

with a matching derby hat. He looked to be in his midforties and

was well over 6 feet tall. He probably weighed 230 pounds. He was,

as my cousin Charley Higgins used to say, “Big enough to hunt bears

with a switch.”

“What’s going on?” Katharina whispered.

“Shhhh… He’s walking over to Partington’s

table.

Dammit, I thought to myself, I

hope Partington doesn’t tell them Katharina is in the

restaurant.

As the man approached, Partington stood up.

I heard the man say something in a roupy voice, though I couldn’t

make out what it was. Then I heard Partington. He was angry.

“I say… I told you on the ship I have no

idea where the baroness is, and nothing has changed.”

I felt a wave of relief. The man took one

more look around the room, turned, and walked back out onto the

street. Katharina and I waited another few minutes, and then we

walked back to our table. Within a minute or so, Partington was

suddenly standing next to us.

“What is going on?” he half whispered. “That

man is not only unpleasant but also persistent.”

Before I could answer, Katharina said

cheerfully, “I already ordered for us, William… Heavens, I am

famished!”

Partington looked at me quizzically and

shrugged. “How much longer can you avoid that chap? Perhaps you

should have it out and be done with it.”

“Are you talking to me, Captain Partington?”

Katharina asked. “Because if you are, I am right here… not over

there.” She nodded in my direction.

“I am sorry. I meant no disrespect.”

“None taken… but let me explain something to

you. I took a peak at that man, and I can tell you with absolute

certainty that I have never seen him before in my life. I have no

idea what he wants. However, I can say that in Germany, my late

husband had many enemies. It is quite possible the people who were

my husband’s adversaries are now mine.”

Partington issued a slight bow and then

said, “Rest assured, Baroness, that man will not bother you as long

as you are aboard the China.”

“I am very much obliged to you, Captain

Partington. Now if you will excuse us, Mr. Battles and I have

managed to engender terrific appetites after a morning of

relentless touring.”

As if on cue, a waiter arrived with a broad

array of steaming cuisine I had never seen before.

Partington moved back from the table. “Don’t

mention it, Baroness… Please enjoy your repast.” With that, he

turned to walk back to his table. I stopped him short.

“Could we… uh… accompany you back to the

ship… or perhaps follow you in our Hackney?”

“Absolutely… I have some business to take

care with the harbor master… I will return in about forty-five

minutes. Is that acceptable?”

I nodded, and Katharina and I spent the next

half hour or so consuming the diverse menu of dishes she ordered

for us. There was chicken pineapple stir-fry, chow gai laan (jade

green broccoli), hot and sour pork soup, hoisin pork, and braised

hairtail fish in oyster sauce.

“Put some of this on your food,” she said,

handing me a small bottle of soy sauce. “It brings out the

flavor.”

It was my first real experience with Chinese

food, though I had eaten chop suey once at a small Chinese

restaurant near the Denver Sun office.

“Well?” Katharina asked as we put our

napkins on the table. “Did I order to your liking?”

“Yes, well, everything but that broccoli

dish. It was a little limp for my taste.”

“I didn’t want to say anything, but you

drowned it in soy sauce. No wonder it was limp.”

“I don’t like broccoli.”

I excused myself and walked to the front

door. Mataio was sitting in the carriage across the street. The

carriage with red rims and white spokes was nowhere to be seen. I

returned to the table, paid our bill, and the two of us walked

briskly out of the Wo Fat restaurant and climbed into Mataio’s

carriage.

“We’re going back to the ship,” I said.

“But what about the Punch Bowl? And there

are many other places I can take you,” Mataio said.

“Change of plans,” I said. “We will see what

happens tomorrow. We have another day in Honolulu.”

He started to flick the horse’s rump with

his long buggy whip, but I stopped him.

“Not yet! We’re waiting for someone else.”

About five minutes later, Partington arrived in another Hackney,

and both carriages were quickly on their way to the SS China

in the harbor.