THE LITTLE FISHER-MAIDEN

LO LUEN was the little daughter of a poor Chinese fisherman, and lived in the Chinatown of Monterey, California. She was born in this beautiful country, and did not know anything about China, except what she had heard her parents say. But this country was good enough for her, she thought, with its endless skies of blue overhead, and the big noisy ocean dashing its white spray up on the silver sands right in front of the little hut she called home.

It was a very poor place, and they were very poor people, but Lo Luen did not know this, because it was all she had ever known, so it did not disturb her simple celestial mind in the least. Then she could not get lonely, for there was her small brother, Lo Duck, who was the cunningest, chubbiest little boy that she had ever seen.

Mo chun was very busy always, in the little hut, as she was a cigarette-maker, and worked at this all the time she was not doing the cooking, and making the simple garments for the family.

The father dearly loved his children, and often called Lo Luen his little fisher-maiden. This was because she was such a help to him in his fishing. She and little Lo Duck would sit out on the ground in front of their home for hours at a time, putting bait on the hooks; and this was a great help, for it saved so much time.

He would cut up a great deal of fish into small bits, and put it in a box by the children, and they would fasten it on to the hundreds of hooks on the lines, and then the big round baskets would be all ready for ho chun to cast the lines into the ocean, and draw out the beautiful fish. Lo Luen was very proud when she saw the fine fish in the boat every day, for she almost felt as if she herself had caught them, since she had put the bait on the hooks. One day she had been working so hard that her father looked at her, as she sat there in the sun with her sleeves rolled up, working away as if her life depended upon it, and he said to her: “Lo Luen, how you likee go out in big boat with ho chun?”

“Oh!” she shouted, as she clapped her little brown hands, “I likee velly much; I likee catch big fish to bling mo chun.”

“All light,” said her father. “We no takee hai tong (baby); he stay with mo chun, he too little.”

Lo Duck objected to this; he wanted to go too, but he would only be in the way, and then his mother would be worried if he went, so he was taken into the house, screaming vigorously. The timid mother felt rather afraid to trust her little daughter out on the great noisy ocean, whose waves came dashing upon the rocks with a boom like thunder; but the father said she was a big girl now, and it was time she learned something of the sea. So, while he fitted up the boat and got the nets into it, mo chun was dressing the little girl in her warmest blouse, all heavily padded, and then got out a very thick silk hood, fastening it securely on her head, and last of all, she took from the padded mumboo (tea-pot holder) a pot of boiling tea, and gave it to Lo Luen.

“Maskee-maskee, my samen jai” (never mind, my little boy), she said to the baby brother, “maybe you go next time.”

Mo chun and the baby boy went with them as far as the boat, and Lo Luen jumped in gaily, and they were off. The water was smooth to-day, and everything would surely be well, thought the mother. She went in and placed a little bowl of steaming rice before the joss, so that he would protect her little girl from the wrath of the mighty ocean, and lighted the punks before him, so that the incense filled the little room.

Meanwhile, the little fishing boat went dancing over the blue waves, as light as an egg-shell, and the little Chinese girl was happy.

They kept near the shore at first, and when they passed the Del Monte hotel she saw hundreds of little American children running on the beach. She loved to watch them, as they ran with bare feet, kicking up the white sand. Some of them were jumping rope with long strands of kelp; some were hunting shells and bits of sea-moss; some were running into the foamy surf, filling their bright tin pails with water, and then hurrying from the big waves they would run back to pour the water into some little place in the sand, where they were building all sorts of wonderful things.

Some of the little girls had the most wonderful dolls in their arms,—or at least they seemed wonderful to a little girl who had no doll, except just the hard kelp balls which she had dressed up and used for dolls, as she did not like to ask for one, for fear it would cost too much.

They left the shore now, and went farther out, where the ocean was deep and the waves were rough. The cool salt spray dashed in her face, and her long queue hung over the side of the boat and dipped into the water. Ho chun told her to take it in, or a big fish might come along and pull her in. Oh, what fun it was to see him cast in the net, and pull out so many big fish! but she was a little afraid of them, they were so squirmy and floppy. She cuddled up in one end of the boat, so they could not jump on her, but ho chun fixed a plank in front of her, so she was not afraid.

It was her turn now, and so the father produced a stout little fishing pole and tackle, and she tried her luck at fishing in the big ocean. Soon she felt a strong tug at her line,—so strong that it almost pulled her in. She tugged away, though, till she almost fell out of the boat, but it was too big for her; she could not manage it without the help of ho chun.

“Maskee!” he said, and took hold of the pole. She still kept her small hands on it, though, so she could say that she caught it. Pretty soon there came up out of the water a big, big salmon, all gold and sparkling in the sunlight. She just squealed with delight, and her father said: “Heap good girl; catchee velly big fish.”

They were so interested in the work and were having such fine luck that they did not realize how late it was getting. Lo Luen was enjoying it so, that her father could not bear to stop her pleasure.

The darkness fell upon the waters now, and the sea moaned sadly. The waves grew rougher, and the air colder. It was not pretty when the sun was not shining on it.

“The wateh too black now; I no likee; I want see mo chun,” falteringly said the little one.

They could see the dim outlines of great ships with their lights sending long, narrow rays across the dark of the ocean. They looked like stars, and made one feel as if they were not alone on the vast waters.

“We go home now—see mo chun; get nice hot tea,” said the father, in a kind tone, as he clasped the little figure closely to him, and started to row home. Of course Lo Luen did not really feel afraid, with her father so near, and said: “I no ’flaid; but I likee go fast. I cold and hungly—that’s all.”

Her father smiled in the dark as he murmured consolingly, “Yes—that’s all.”

Lo Luen was thinking, as she crouched there, nestled up against ho chun, “How pletty those dolls were; I be so happy if I had one—just one, foh my velly own.”

The moonbeams lit up the water in a silvery path, and as Lo Luen looked at this path and thought how very beautiful it was, she noticed something floating in the light and bounding up and down on the waves. It looked like a big lump of seaweed.

“What is that, ho chun?” she said, with childish curiosity.

“Oh, I think just a piece of wood or a bunch of kelp; you likee get it, little girl?”

“Yes, we see what it is,” she said.

It seemed determined to get away from them, for almost every time they were near enough to touch it a big wave would come, and take it away in the dark, and it would be lost to sight for a while. But soon the light revealed it right within reach. Ho chun put out his hand and grasped it, and putting it on the fish said: “We see when we get home,” and rowed away as fast as he could.

At home the little mother was getting very uneasy. What could keep them so long? “Cheung kan ye lok” (it is getting very late), she said. Oh, why had she ever let her go? To think of her pao chu (precious pearl) being out on the big ocean at night. She imagined all sorts of horrible things, and blamed herself. Perhaps she had not set enough food before the joss, nor burned enough incense. She had the tea all nice and hot, and knew if nothing had happened they would be very hungry when they reached home. So she lighted more punks before the god, and had already sung the baby’s little Chinese song:

He now lay asleep on his couch, and she was all alone.

After what seemed an age to her she heard the sound of a boat being dragged upon the sand, and ran to the door of the hut, and stood there looking out upon the beach. “Lo Luen! Lo Luen!” she called out in the darkness, “Yap loi le!” (come in!) and there was a rush of sandalled feet, and in just a moment two cold brown hands were clasped in her warm ones, and a dear little cold nose was pressed against her face. “Lo Luen, precious pearl, you have come back, and the joss is good,” she said.

After the fish were put away ho chun came in, and everything was peace and happiness again. The warm room seemed more welcome than ever before, for they were benumbed with cold, and oh, so hungry! Mo chun, with all gentleness and love, soon had them seated, with bowls of steaming rice before them, and fried fish, and other good things which she had prepared in their absence.

After supper Lo Luen happened to think of the mysterious bundle of seaweed, and ho chun went out and brought it in. It was very wet, and smelled of the sea.

“I guess it’s only a piece of wood with kelp on,” said mo chun; but anyway, they tore the wet seaweed from it, while Lo Luen looked eagerly on. What could that be sticking out of the weed? It looked—it actually looked like a doll’s foot. It couldn’t be, and yet—With a great cry of joy Lo Luen saw her father uncover the treasure. All the pent-up feeling of starved child-life was in her cry, for there, disclosed to her dancing, oblique eyes was a doll—a real one, and a very beautiful one. She could not believe it at first, but rubbed her eyes. They were all astonished, for this was indeed an event in their barren lives.

The doll opened her eyes as if she were alive, and seemed to gaze at them in gratitude for being saved from the cruel water. Lo Luen hugged it to her wildly beating heart and her face beamed with a rapturous joy the like of which had never before come to her. She was such a little mother, always, and now she would have something upon which to shower all the wealth of love repressed in her warm little heart.

They did not attempt to solve the mystery. To them it was enough that this beautiful toy had been sent to them from the waters. It may have been that the doll was lost in some shipwreck, or that some of the little maidens at Del Monte had left it too near the water, and the waves had carried it away. It belonged now to the little Chinese fisher-maiden, and that was enough to know.

She slept that night with the precious doll in her arms—dear little Lo Luen!