In the last part Ben was in a fight, breaking a knuckle and arm. His proposal that Henry run for mayor is being considered. Ben arranged for D.L. Moody to preach an Awakening series in San Francisco.

“Good morning, Clyde. You’re a welcome surprise. I didn’t expect to see you under the white hat so soon.”

“I wanted to share the news with you.”

Ben was just leaving his apartment, intending to preach at the Levi Straus factory as employees entered, before going to the Mount Sutro area, a region he’d yet to visit.

“And what news to share with me got you up hours before the sun on this Wednesday morning?”

“There was a meeting on Saturday of the, uh, well, I don’t know what you’d call ‘em. Anyway, there wasn’t a single objection to Halleck. So a few of them went to see Henry yesterday. He agreed to allow his name to be placed on the ballot, although he said he wouldn’t campaign. He would serve, just not play the political games.”

“Sounds like him,” Ben said, nodding.

“Then, Monday afternoon a courier delivered a document to our office laying out Henry’s agenda, his goals for a new city government. It starts with replacement of every appointed officer and investigations leading to prosecution of the police chief and anyone suspected of criminal behavior. Next was a law change that would allow bonds to be sold, the money to build a proper sewer system, and other needed projects.

“Henry repeated that he wasn’t going to campaign, but authorized our people to campaign for him with his platform.”

Ben smiled. “Sounds like steps in the right direction.”

At the entrance to the trousers factory, Ben was met with confusion. People were being turned away from the plant, not allowed to go in to work.

“Rats,” Clyde told Ben as they both backed away from the colliding crowd. “Managers won’t let the workers in. They’re going to have to do something about the swarms of rats that came with the crates of fabric just delivered off a boat in the harbor.

“Do you mind preaching over that way, today? I really need to go see what the city is doing about all the rats. You know that’s where the plague came from in Europe.”

“No, I didn’t,” Ben replied. “But you go ahead, I’ll go on to the Sutra. I’ll be fine.” After seeing Clyde’s questioning gaze, Ben added, “And I’ll be careful.”

+++

A couple days later Ben asked the on-duty white hat escort when might be a good time to find Clyde. On the next day, the white hat escort, a different one from the day before, guided Ben to an oyster bar at noon time. Clyde was ranting with another at a table for four.

“Ah, my friend, the preacher. Always good to see you… alive. To what do we owe the pleasure? Oh, this is my good friend, Alphonzo. Alphonzo keeps the peace, as much as possible, in the wharf district. Despite the interference by the police, right Alphonzo?”

Alphonzo smiled weakly.

Filling the opening, Ben brought Clyde up to date with the plans to have church revival meetings in October.

“Hmmm. Just weeks before the election. Should work well. An audience for a speaker, or two.”

Ben shook his head. “Sorry Clyde, but only if you plan on bringing a couple of the apostles back from heaven. God alone will be directing the awakening.”

Clyde silently stared at Ben. Finally, he laughed, bellowing, “As it should be, my preacher friend, as it should be.”

“The plague, though, will mass gatherings be safe by then? Will there be enough people still alive? Will it be safe to bring in our guests?”

Clyde thought a minute. "That is an issue, a present issue. The present mayor claims that the current matter is due to cadavers and burials. He got the council to issue an emergency order…”

“At ridiculous grafting rates,” Alphonzo interjected.

“… to empty every graveyard in the city. Move all the bodies to Colma a little town to the south.”

“The dead will outnumber the living a thousand to one,” Alphonzo added.

“And guess what?” Clyde immediately answered himself. “The mayor’s real estate buddy has exclusive right to sell the cemetery properties and take commissions.”

“And kickbacks,” Alphonzo added.

“You might avoid Chinatown,” Clyde said. “They’re gonna quarantine the whole district.”

“Nobody in, nobody out,” Alphonzo declared, a smile on his face that disturbed Ben.

“Guess that’s where I need to be. Do most of them speak English, or should I find an interpreter?”

Clyde and Aphonzo both glared at Ben as if he was a lunatic.

“God’s call is to people, gentlemen.”

After a moment, Clyde rose to leave. “Rat poison and cats, my friend. Fill your building with rat poison and cats.”

+++

“Best not to look, Mr. Ben. Look udder way.” Ben’s interpreter attempted to physically turn Ben’s body to face the opposite end of Kearny Street.

The interpreter, twenty-year-old Hao whispered “Tong”. 

Ben looked at him blankly.

“Tong, like gang, only worse. They business, Mr. Ben.”

“That child being drug by her hair?”

“She prostitute, Mr. Ben.”

“She’s a child! What ten, twelve?”

“Maybe fourteen, fifteen, I think,” Hao answered. “We small, you big.”

“Still a child.”

“Yes, Mr. Ben. Should be with parents. But she prostitute now.”

“Not here.” Hao led Ben to a more private area where he described the business of destitute parents in China who sold their daughters to a dealer who promised work and prosperity for the daughters, netting parents about $80, and then selling them in San Francisco for ten or fifteen times as much. “They promise work, family, good life. Not getting enough girls that way, the evil merchants kidnapped girls. Sometime girls not prostitutes, sometimes slave labor in factory.”

“Why would Chinese men here in San Francisco make it a profitable venture, the prostitutes?” Ben asked.

“Because of Chinese Exclusion Act. Only men, no women may immigrate to America,” Hao declared.

“And who helps these girls?”

Hao looked at Ben as if he was crazy.

“Who is the boss of Chinatown and not Tong?”

“Fang Cheng.”

“Take me to her.”

“She does not speak to gweilo, ghosts.”

Ben’s eyes bore into Hao’s. With a shrug and a “you will see,” Hao led the way to an apartment over a meat shop where a variety of dressed-out poultry creatures hung at the building’s edge facing the sidewalk.

Ben had been praying every step of the way.

Hao spoke animatedly with the shop proprietor, shouting going both directions. Presently there was a loud stomping as if a broom handle was pounding the floor above, heard by Hao and the proprietor below. They stopped arguing. The proprietor pointed to Ben and a door that led to a staircase.

“Mrs. Cheng?”

Fang Cheng again pounded her floor with a broom handle signaling Hao to accompany them.

“Mrs. Cheng,” Ben began sensing the Holy Spirit’s lead. “Little girls are beaten and injured. Little girls sometimes won’t eat, and become sick and die. Little girls take their own lives. They need a safe house where they can heal, where they can want to eat, where they can think of things besides taking their own lives.”

Ben waited for the translation, and then for Mrs. Cheng.

Several moments later Mrs. Cheng replied, her words interpreted by Hao.

“Fang Cheng did not expect this from you. She expected you to order her to stop prostitution. She wants to know if you are Hudson Taylor’s son, if you know Hudson Taylor.”

Ben smiled. “I would be proud to have known Mr. Hudson.”

Fang Cheng nodded at Hao’s interpretation. Presently, Mrs. Cheng stood, speaking a few syllables.

Hao simply said, “It will be done. We go now.” Hao headed for the door.

Familiar with the business of rescue missions, Ben asked Hao to translate more. “Is there anything I can do? Any way I can help?”

Ben took Mrs. Cheng’s frowning shake of her head as answer. He bowed and followed Hao down the stairs.