Night of the Tustumena

by Arne Bue

  "Oh, shut up, Louie."

  "And you have peace?" Mr. Nakano asked.

  Louie was giving Donna a pale washed out blue look. His fingernails were dirty, and his hair was matted. Donna didn't care about what the hell kind of look Louie gave her, but she was listening to Mr. Nakano and she was shaking her head.

  "Hey, Louie said. "What you shaking your head to him for? I give you all the peace you want."

  "I lost all that when I was fifteen," Donna said.

  "Peace?" Mr. Nakano asked.

  "It went away, I think, when I started smoking and then the partying. Fun for awhile, but then it wasn't so much fun," Donna said.

  Louie stopped shuffling his cards, likely because Donna wasn't sounding right.

  "Shut up, Donna," Louie said.

  "Hey, you shut up. Look at you, a mess. Deal the cards." Louie started dealing.

  "This is my last voyage," Mr. Nakano said.

  "Oh, yeah? Louie said. He'd spoken as though Mr. Nakano's announcement was less than dust.

  "Don't mind him, Mr. Nakano," Donna said. "He doesn't mean no harm. Really, he doesn't."

  "I would like to give you, my neighbors, this English translation of Buddha's teachings. In there, are words that you may contemplate through a day. You will slowly be enlightened."

  "Slowly?" Donna said.

  "For some, it can happen quickly, but from my own personal experience, it happens at a less rapid pace. It depends upon the person," Mr. Nakano said.

  Donna wasn't picking up the cards. She was thumbing through the book.

  Mr. Nakano slipped away.

  He must be seen taking photos on the boat deck.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  The Captain looked down from his ship at the Sand Point dock. The garbage truck had already backed onto the car lift, where the ship's waste waited. He could hear the crew load the back of the truck, and the driver grind the levers. The garbage truck drove off the lift and up the Sand Point causeway. John saw Mr. Nakano down there, coming out of the storage building, limping. Mr. Nakano was looking at a man in a truck parked outside, but they didn't speak to one another that Captain Sewell could tell. Mr. Nakano crossed the dock and climbed the gangway.

  Sewell saw nothing unusual about Mr. Nakano's dock visit.

  His crew were expert, smooth professionals. He was proud of them. The Deck Officers were as good as one could find anywhere. They had their quirks and personal problems, but when it comes to the ship, they performed. Quinsen and Lingenberry had some problems to solve, and so did he. And Captain Sewell, like the crew, mourned the loss of Dick. But unlike the crew, he was sure Mr. Nakano had something to do with Dick's murder. Before the trip ends, he promised himself, he'd find out how Mr. Nakano fit in.

  Sewell thought to write letters of commendation to Elaine and Gary for their handling the so-called Williams family in Dutch Harbor. Arguably, the Williams people should have been cuffed aboard the ship, but he'd been the one who'd ordered no cuffs.

  He had his reasons.

  With cuffs, the errant threesome could fall, the tide so low and the gangway much too steep for a climb down with hands cuffed behind the back. They could have been taken off the ship through the car deck, but that would mean taking them down the stairs with cuffs on. They could fall there, too, going down the stairs cuffed. So that would have meant taking them down the elevator. That would have worked, as far as it went. But when he'd thought that approach through, he'd visualized them in their cuffs standing on the car lift, the lift making it sudden, jerking turn, and again, with their balance impaired, they could fall. So, Captain Sewell figured, they will not leave his ship in cuffs. Besides, the Williams family had settled down after Elaine and Gary had them under control, and at gunpoint. And at the boarding area the three of them appeared to be cooperating. Most of all, Captain Sewell figured, it was their safety about which he'd been most concerned. Uncuffed was the correct way to proceed. Anyone wants to give me heat, let them, Captain Sewell figured, recalling the harrowing close call with the Williams family on the dock in Dutch Harbor.

  Usually, Mr. Nakano took photos from the ship awhile after he'd walked around the docks in each port-of-call. Captain Sewell had fifteen minutes before the undocking, so he went looking for the man. He'd learn more of Mr. Nakano. If Mr. Nakano had killed his crewman, Dick, then Captain Sewell was going to be the one to find out. This was his ship, he'd find out in his way, using his own step-by-step method. A few questions at a time. By the time this voyage ended, Captain Sewell would have all the information anyone could ever want on Mr. Nakano. But he'd proceed slowly. He would not scare the man off.

  He'd issue a small discomfort to Mr. Nakano, instead.

  Captain Sewell located Mr. Nakano on the topmost deck, the boat deck. The man stood at the rail astern of the stack, sketching the dock below, a fork lift, the warehouse, the causeway, the boat harbor in the distance.

  "Perhaps," Mr. Nakano said to the Captain, "with my photographs, I can do a complete rendering of this scene."

  "With oil? Watercolor?" Captain Sewell asked.

  "No," Mr. Nakano said. "I will use colored pencils. To do this scene will take many weeks of hard work, but the results will be as I wish."

  "Did you call your wife?" Captain Sewell asked. He hadn't seen Mr. Nakano use the phone. Maybe Mr. Nakano would try to mislead, tell Captain Sewell he'd used the phone, when in fact, he had not.

  "No," Mr. Nakano said. "When I hear her voice on the phone, I worry. For some reason, these worries bother my chest. Then Misako -- that is her name -- will ask how I feel. I will know from her questions that she is worrying about me. I, of course, will tell her I am fine, when really I am not so healthy. This is not a pleasant way to communicate with a loved one, in my opinion."

  "When Joyce was alive, we..."

  "Yes, Captain?"

  "We worried about each other when we were apart."

  "Of course. I understand," Mr. Nakano said.

  "I'm still getting over it."

  "Yes."

  "I feel guilty when I think of becoming involved with another woman," Captain Sewell said. He had never shared this with anyone.

  "Do you feel she is watching?" Mr. Nakano asked.

  "I think she's alive, but at the same time I know she's gone."

  "A quandary. One that could lead to depression," Mr. Nakano said. "I myself was a sufferer of melancholy, until Misako entered my life."

  "Would you like to take some pictures of Sand Point from the wing?" Captain Sewell asked.

  "Ah, a return to the bridge, for another perspective. I would be grateful."

  Third Mate Gary Quinsen turned quickly and looked with hard eyes as Mr. Nakano stepped with Captain Sewell into the wheelhouse.

  "What's he doing here? You letting him up here when we undock? You never done that before." Gary's voice had gone to gravel.

  "Gary. Mr. Nakano is my honored guest. He'll take a few photos from the wing, then leave, and we'll start with the undocking. Is that clear?" Captain Sewell had spoken with a low, rumbling force that turned the head of the helmsman.

  Mr. Nakano snapped off five shots of the boat harbor, off in the near distance. "I will leave now, so as not to disturb you in your work," he said. Captain Sewell observed a shift in Mr. Nakano's eyes over to Third Mate Quinsen.

  Captain Sewell said, "Wait in the Master's Quarters, Mr. Nakano. We'll talk some more."

  In half an hour, Captain Sewell turned the bridge over to Gary, the ship well underway to Chignik. Sewell entered the Master's Quarters. Mr. Nakano sat on the guest couch in the bunkroom, waiting, as Captain Sewell had suggested.

  "Mr. Nakano, just exactly what is it that you do for a living?" Captain Sewell asked with the suddenness of a williwaw.

  Mr. Nakano seemed in need of air.

  "I work for a university. Also, I receive a grant from a rather obscure governmental agency. This grant money assists me in my work studying marine wildlife and birds and communities in the Aleut
ian Chain. Of course, I hope to achieve success when I sell my renderings in Tokyo."

  "Thank you, Mr. Nakano. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I'd like to speak with you more, but at a later time. I have administrative work I must complete. I'm sure you understand." Captain Sewell was being impolite and abrupt, and he knew it. But he'd taken this tact with a purpose: He wished to gauge Mr. Nakano's reaction to having been kept waiting for half an hour with the promise of friendly conversation, but only to discover the Captain had only one terse personal question. The Captain had practically booted his guest from the Master's Quarters. What, Captain Sewell wondered, will Mr. Nakano's reaction to this be?

  "Of course," Mr. Nakano said. "I understand. Thank you for letting me visit your quarters."

  Captain Sewell abruptly escorted Mr. Nakano off the quarterdeck.

  In the Master's Quarters, Captain Sewell decided he'd go a step further in his questioning of Mr. Nakano at a later time. He didn't want to make Mr. Nakano too suspicious, just a little. Go slow, Captain Sewell said to himself. Next time, ask for the exact name of the university. And get the exact name of the governmental agency.

  Captain Sewell sat at his desk and ran his hands through his hair, over and over, bringing Mr. Nakano's face, body and eyes back into the focus of his mind. Something not right. When I began with the questions about what Mr. Nakano did for a living, something about the man had changed slightly. Perhaps it was the way Mr. Nakano shifted his body, or the way the pupils of the man's eyes had changed. Maybe it was the moisture that had suddenly formed upon Mr. Nakano s upper lip.

  And why was Gary Quinsen upset when Mr. Nakano entered the bridge? Impolite, unprofessional. Captain Sewell decided he'd suggest Gary Quinsen polish his manners. He'd make that suggestion about the same time he presented him with the memo of commendation for his brave efforts in Dutch Harbor with the Williams family.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  On Monday, October 3, 1:45 a.m., the ship's horn brought Mr. Nakano awake. Ten hours had passed since Sand Point. The creaking of the joint in his stateroom from the rocking of the ship had stopped. Captain Sewell was docking the Tustumena in Chignik. There was no business for Mr. Nakano here, and for the time being no worries. He wished to return to sleep, but could not.

  Kodiak was the next stop after Chignik. He must get everything ready, and stay with his plan. He used the long blade of his knife and made cuts along the top of the box Chief Purser Anna Knight had provided him, sizing the edges and the height. He sealed the container with mailing tape, and wrote an address on the front in block English lettering. The activity relaxed him, and he yawned and climbed into his bunk. Sleep came to him instantly, but it was not a sound rest, for a vivid dream visited. He was in Tokyo. He was talking to his son.

  "I have been to the University of Alaska, Anchorage," he was saying to Kano.

  "Yes. I have heard of that school, and Alaska Pacific University, also," the son said.

  "UAA has a spacious campus, new buildings for business, the arts, a sports center," Mr. Nakano said.

  "I will apply there," Kano said.

  "I have been selling my sketches and photographs. Misako has a friend at a gallery. Tuition should be no problem." In the dream, Kenso Nakano's heart and chest did not ache. His knee carried no pain. He was an honorable man.

  Kano was not longer there. Mr. Nakano was looking about their home, and as though out of his body, he was floating. The apartment was a spacious two bedroom, white walls, ornamented with Japanese floral prints. The living room contained his framed sketches and photographs. The entire area was sunken, rich in brilliant green carpets and yellow live flower arrangements created by Misako in traditional ways. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with reading, Call of the Wild, Remains of the Day, Matador, Lizard, Humble Snyder, The Lid. Magazines and newspapers bulged in a rack, among them Alaska Magazine, The Anchorage Daily News, as well as newspapers from Kodiak and Homer.

  Mr. Nakano entered his son's bedroom, and approached the computer, near the boy's bookshelves. He worked at the computer, using a program that allowed him to draw, sketch and paint with color. After awhile he set aside this enjoyment and began entering information into the word processor, using the code. He must secure his journals with a password, so his son and wife cannot access the files. Though they would not understand what was in the journals, should they find them, surely they would ask why the entries are so nonsensical, coded as they are.

  They, wife and son, appeared behind him, and watched him at his work. He laughed out loud for the benefit of his wife and son, and was suddenly overtaken with a great concern. His chest pained him, his knee was as though carrying a thousand shards of glass. The knee locked, and his lower leg muscles, his calves, cinched into fists. He told his family he must leave.

  "I must attend the wake," he said, limping away.

  He hid in the back of the large private chamber reserved for ceremonies for the departed. Up front, Shige Nishimoto spoke, his eyes dark and vengeful.

  "My best soldier was struck down by a cowardly American in Sand Point, Alaska. This American was a common barbarian. We will take our revenge." Nishimoto looked to the back of the chamber where Mr. Nakano lowered himself out of sight behind other gang-members. Their heads moved about, and they looked over and down at him.

  Mr. Nakano sprang awake, his heart pounding. The ship's horn again had sounded. The time was almost 3 a.m.

  The Tustumena departed Chignik.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  When Chief Mate Elaine Miller's alarm clock went off at 6:30 a.m., she awoke with the vision she'd been seeing in her sleep, the Japanese man Kenso Nakano telling her something in perfect English, then limping off down a passageway. Although the details of the dream had already faded, she somehow knew whatever Mr. Nakano had been telling her was quite disturbing. But for some reason parts of his words made her fill with joy.

  Well, I might as well get going. Elaine washed up, straightened her hair, checked her uniform, and ate a breakfast in the officer's mess. She stepped into the wheelhouse at precisely five minutes before eight to relieve Second Mate Harry Lingenberry for one of the watches on the 18 hour run to Kodiak.

  "God, I feel awful," Harry said.

  "I heard. You've got some sort of venereal disease. Anna told me all about it. God, I hope you washed your hands. I don't want what you've got."

  "I've spoken to a medical man. This is merely an infection of the urinary tract, certainly not the sort of disease you think. The situation can and will be remedied soon as I get to Kodiak, where I'm sure I can get some pills."

  Elaine was in a dark, horrible mood this morning, and decided to take it out on Harry.

  "Oh, come on, Harry. Say it. Say it. You've got the goddam clap. You've been screwing some broad in Dutch Harbor all summer."

  "Elaine, we don't know that. I've spoken to a medical man. It's an infection of the urinary tract. That's all."

  "Who is this medical man? Kenso Nakano?"

  "Yes, if you must know."

  "And he's a doctor?"

  "A medical man, I think. Sounds like it to me, when I spoke to him about it."

  "Oh, give me a break, Harry. You going up to our passengers, telling them you've got the clap? That good PR, Harry? Think about it."

  "Mr. Nakano, Elaine, is a very nice, concerned, gentle individual with probably a medical background."

  "What, he show you his degree?"

  "No, not really, but I'm not stupid. I know when someone's giving me medical advice that's sound."

  "So, Harry, he gives you medical advice, and that makes him a doctor?"

  "I did not say doctor, Elaine. I said medical man."

  "I see. Medical man. You've been cheating on your wife and you talk to a passenger, he gives you some advice, and that makes him a medical man."

  "Yes, but it's not as stupid as you're making it sound."

  "Oh?"

  "Because his advice was sound advice."

  "Which was? I
want to hear it, Harry. Which was?"

  He said, "Elaine, I should have it looked at."

  "Oh, great. I'm sure he's a goddam brain surgeon, Harry. God, why don't you grow up, go back to your wife. Imagine, at your age, cheating."

  "Well, she's been stepping out on me."

  "Maybe if you'd listen to her, spend quality time with her."

  "She wants a kid," Lingenberry said.

  "Well? Why don't you and her go ahead, have a kid? What's wrong with that?"

  "God, I feel awful. Every time I piss, you know?"

  "Get out of here, Harry. I don't want to hear about it anymore. You think this Kenso guy's OK, I don't. There's something not right."

  Elaine was fuming even after Harry Lingenberry made his exit. And why not. Kenso Nakano was from all appearances, closer to John Sewell than she was. She couldn't even get to first base with the guy. I know, I know, John's checking Nakano out, doesn't trust him, is playing the guy along to find out who he really is, what he does. But it still irks me no end that Nakano gets to have heart-to-heart talks with him, and I don't.

  At noon, Third Mate Gary Quinsen relieved Elaine. He was in a mood darker than Elaine's.

  "You seen that Japanese guy?" Gary asked.

  "Yeah, I know. Been coming up to the bridge with the Captain."

  "I don't like him. Don't trust him. Maybe he'll do us all a favor, fall overboard," he said, looking out at the seas. They had come up within the last hour.

  Gary seemed to want to dump on Elaine. He added, "You'll never get John Sewell, you know."

  "Shut up, Gary," Elaine said.

  "He's too wrapped up in the death of his wife. He can't get past the mourning. But then again," Gary said, "maybe the Nakano guy will get him going on the right track. Isn't he a psychologist or something?"

  "Oh, God. A psychologist. Where did you get that one?"

  "The Nelson's. Nakano's been giving them psychological advice. Louie and Donna told me they're sure he's a psychologist. He's really helped them, they're telling me."