by Arne Bue
"We'll be posting a guard," Elaine said, a voice with the force of adrenaline.
"I have done nothing!" Mr. Nakano's heart seemed to twist inside his chest.
There must be a way, he thought. Contemplation may bring an answer to me.
"You'll be safe if you stay in quarters," the Captain said.
Safe? Safe? Had Nishimoto sent another soldier? No. Foolish thinking. He brought himself around to what really had happened. The Troopers had found Redbeard. The Troopers had found Sugimoto. How did they connect that to me? Perhaps they'd observed me as I spoke to Redbeard, seen me go into the Sand Point warehouse. They'd seen Redbeard follow. I can escape from suspicion if that's all there is to this. I can create the illusion of innocence.
"Mr. Nakano," the Captain said, "The Troopers want to talk to you about some matters." The Captain's face had grayed over in stone.
Mr. Nakano's mind raced. They know. There is no doubt. I will not see Misako again. I will not see my son grow to become an honorable man. They know. His heart had begun the heavy pounding. He moved his arms to his chest and breathed in and out several times. Are they going to return me to Japan? They'll kill me there.
Elaine moved her head and re-riveted her stance. She said, "Mr. Nakano, are you going to be sick?"
He must speak in a reasonable, convincing manner. He must turn their hearts. Perhaps he could insert an element of quiet and peace.
"You are frightening me. You must help me understand. In Japan, if I see others in solitude, in prison, or suffering from illness or other troubles, I always try to relieve them and make them happy, by explaining the reasons and laws to them. But you are making no effort to help me understand by explaining reasons to me for turning my stateroom into a prison cell."
Captain Sewell looked over at Elaine. "Give us a moment, Mr. Nakano."
Mr. Nakano's world had become dense and closed. His stomach seemed as though heavy with swollen rice. His chest heaved with a knotted heart, a genetic malady he was sure father Etsuo had left him. Captain Sewell stepped back a few feet and spoke quietly into Elaine's ear, looking across at Mr. Nakano. Mr. Nakano saw in his mind the blade. Too far away, too difficult to remove from the mattress.
Think. Think. There is a way, a route of freedom, as were the tunnels beneath the streets in the neighborhood. Forms and remembrances of the waters of Homer merged. He saw the life preserver boxes aft of the top deck solarium. Two seamen had repaired a broken lid. Mr. Nakano could open it. He saw the lid open, saw himself donning the orange vest, tying the belts about his waist and legs. He visualized Homer coming up, not far in the distance. He leapt, felt himself in the dream falling and striking the cold waters of Kachemak Bay. He would swim to shore. Dry clothes in the duffel. Change ashore. Call Maggie's Taxi. To the airport. Fly to Anchorage. Stay at the Anchorage Hotel, then fly from Anchorage to Albuquerque in the morning. Change his appearance. Hide for several years in Socorro. Not contact his wife or son. They'd think him dead. They'd have all the money. Misako live out her life in good health with no medical bills to worry her. His son would be honorable. That would work. Misako would have the instructions, how to access the accounts. She'd have cash coming to her by mail. Kano could enter school, perhaps UAA. Such a fine, fine plan. Such a quick, creative mind.
Captain Sewell finished with his deliberations with Elaine. She'd already handed the .30-.30 to Captain Sewell. She held a pair of handcuffs, moved them, positioned them.
"Elaine and I have discussed this," Captain Sewell said. "We're going to restrain you for the time being."
"But how will I eat? How will I take my shower?"
"You'll be OK. We'll take care of you," the Captain said.
"I want to talk to the Japanese Consulate."
"I'm the law here," Captain Sewell said.
"If you are the law, then you are like a ruler."
"That is correct."
Elaine said, "Now? Cuff him?"
"Cuff him."
Elaine moved into the stateroom with surprising speed and spun Mr. Nakano to the wall.
"Spread you legs and put your hands out and lean forward on the wall."
Elaine grabbed his right hand. "Just go with me. Stand up straight. I'm moving your right hand around behind your back."
She fastened the cuff then cuffed the left hand.
"This is most uncomfortable. I will fall and hurt myself. I cannot lie in the bunk. I must use the restroom."
"Well, that's the way they taught us in Sitka at Troopers school," Elaine said. "I better search him, see if he's carrying."
She patted Mr. Nakano down.
"Check everywhere," Captain Sewell said.
Elaine checked around the washbasin and the mirror, the pockets of his coat, went through his duffel, ran her hands over the mattresses of the top and bottom bunks. She examined the camera.
"Where's your drawings?" Elaine asked.
"I have sent them home, to Misako."
"Misako?" Elaine said, looking at Captain Sewell.
"That's his wife," the Captain said. "Since we're underway, we'll cut you a little slack. You're being cooperative and all, so, Elaine, cuff him round front."
"Right. Around front," Elaine said.
Elaine re-did the cuffs.
Good. I can watch the time, Mr. Nakano thought, glancing at his Seiko. We've been underway two hours.
"How will I eat? What about my shower?" Mr. Nakano asked.
Captain Sewell said, "Heard about you from the Troopers over the radio. They want to talk to you in Homer. Matter of fact, the public safety officer and the harbormaster in Port Lions heard something was up. They knew you were the one. We pretty well knew about you when the trip started."
They know. They've known for the entire trip! Mr. Nakano thought. They know about the route. But they don't know about Redbeard, Mr. Nakano thought. They do not know about Sugimoto. Otherwise they'd have said something.
"May I have my meal in the dining room?" Mr. Nakano asked.
"I'll have Judy bring you food, Mr. Nakano," Captain Sewell said.
"What about my shower? I wish to shower this afternoon." Already Mr. Nakano felt moisture upon his lip, beneath his arms, trickling along his back.
"That will be fine, Mr. Nakano. I'll instruct my men to let you take one shower before we get to Homer."
"Thank you so much," Mr. Nakano said.
"One more thing," Captain Sewell said. "I'm quite upset about this, and I'll be coming back to talk to you in an hour. I'd like to hear your side."
"Of course," Mr. Nakano said.
Yes, Mr. Nakano thought, there is a way.
"We're posting a guard. Understand?" Elaine said.
"Yes," Mr. Nakano said.
Mr. Nakano looked for a long while at the closed stateroom door after the Captain and Elaine left. Then he lay back in the bunk and looked at the cuffs about his hands.
They must not return me to Tokyo, Mr. Nakano said to himself. I have betrayed Nishimoto. I went through the ceremony. I gave them my word. I gave up my honor to save my parents. And when I did that, I also betrayed my parents. And now I have betrayed my oyabun, Nishimoto
Mr. Nakano closed his eyes. The gang members were all there, the day of the ceremony, when he'd become one of them. An auspicious day had been chosen, and the members of the organization had attended, with torimochinin, the guarantors, present as intermediaries. They'd set rice, whole fish, and piles of salt in the Shinto shrine alcove. In front, the old man, the oyabun, and the kobun, Kenso Nakano, sat facing each other. The torimochinin arranged the fish ceremonially and filled the drinking-cups with sake, and added fish-scales and salt.
They drank.
The torimochinin turned solemnly to kobun Nakano and warned him of his future duties:
"Having drunk from the oyabun's cup and he from yours, you now owe loyalty to the ikka and devotion to your oyabun. Even should your wife and children starve, even at the cost of your life, your duty is now to the ikka and oyabun. From no
w on you have no other occupation until the day you die. The oyabun is your only parent. Follow him through fire and flood."
Judy brought Mr. Nakano his spaghetti and meatballs and coffee for lunch. He ate quietly, sitting in the canvas movie director's chair. The seas calmed. No creak in the stateroom joints gave him company. He heard a knock on the door, and immediately Captain Sewell entered. Mr. Nakano saw past the Captain into the passage. A seaman stood there holding a weapon, probably the .30-.30 he'd seen Elaine hold upon him.
"Tell me about this, Mr. Nakano," the Captain said.
Mr. Nakano nodded. "Please let me think a moment," he said. He ate a few more morsels of the food.
Perhaps, Mr. Nakano thought, the Troopers have sent him to me, to find out more. I must sway this man's mind.
"You, the Captain," Mr. Nakano said, quietly and politely, "are the ruler of a ship. As such, I hope you will temper your verdicts and opinions of what I am about to tell you with compassion. After all, a Captain, I believe, should try to consider a case such as mine with clear wisdom and then make a verdict in accord with humane principles. Do not all humans follow natural humane principles? You must examine the truthfulness of the facts I am about to present to you. And certainly, I would hope you will rule that this situation falls within your jurisdiction. If you render a judgment with full authority, it will, I am sure, be effective."
Mr. Nakano wiped his mouth with a napkin, and continued.
"I wish you to judge justly. You look like a just man. You speak of justice when you remember the death of your wife. And to be just, you must enter into my mind. If you find my deeds done without criminal intent, you should discharge me. You should pronounce your verdict with kindness but not harshness. If you believe I am to be punished, you should apply a proper punishment but should not go beyond that. A good ruler of a ship should instruct someone like me with kindness and give me time to reflect upon my few mistakes.
"You, as the Captain, should judge with sympathy but not in anger. You should condemn any crime I may have committed, but not me. You should let your judgment rest upon a foundation of sympathy, and you should use the occasion to try and make me realize my few mistakes.
"I've heard you talk," Mr. Nakano continued. "I've studied your mind, Captain. I believe that is the way you will think when you hear my story."
Mr. Nakano was ready. He would tell the Captain of his version of his true life.
"I've done this always for family," Mr. Nakano said. "I sacrificed my honor to save my parents. Now, I've betrayed my boss in Tokyo to save my wife and son. All of this is most true."
Mr. Nakano spoke of his life. He felt his anger rise as he relived his meeting with Shige Nishimoto, the meeting where he was denied financial aid to help Misako's situation. He became upset as he described how Nishimoto had suggested son Kano should come into the gang.
"I have wanted and needed honor for all of my adult life. But I strayed, and fell into the addiction of being part of the gang. I have routed shabu to people, and I have seen their looks and faces and bodies, and I have heard their voices. They, like me, have lost the way. I can tell they want the right thing, but cannot move themselves onto the right path. It is as though their wants are on their skin, and when I am near to them and I hear them talk and I see their eyes, how they look about as for something lost, it is as though these true needs and wants jump from their skin onto my own skin. And I can feel their needs inside of me. The needs I feel are not what they say they want, not the descriptions of where they are in their lives. Not that. But the underlying, true need. Most people want for honor. But, like me, they have strayed. They cannot find their lost honor. I have often felt this in other people. This desire jumps onto my skin from theirs and enters me, and I can see them hurting, wanting to live truly in the moment and in the grace of enlightenment. But they have strayed and cannot get back on the path. So, Captain Sewell, on this last of all voyages for me, I have given my book, "The Teaching of Buddha" to the Nelson's and counseled them on meditation as a way to get their minds to focus on living honorably in the moment, to fill their days with intense concentrated living. I have presented myself to Second Mate Harry Lingenberry, who has strayed, who has run from giving the world a child so he may enjoy pleasures of the flesh. Sometimes just being there to listen is enough. Then the speaker takes the emotions, and puts them into words and releases those emotions into the winds. And something always comes back. Maybe a simple word. Maybe the nod in understanding of a listener. And the simple returned word and the nod of understanding will raise the one in pain to the level of life where he should be. And an honorable man will begin with the small step on the new path. That is what I have given Harry Lingenberry. And, Captain Sewell, that is what I have given Second Mate Gary Quinsen. He took his anger at himself and spewed it upon me. And once he'd done that, Captain, he saw clearly he'd strayed. And, Captain, he one day will make that one step on the correct path. You will no longer, I believe, have a Deck Officer by the name of Gary Quinsen after this voyage. And you, Captain, the same. You, too, will go on with your life. And again you will live. That which you thought so important, control, is really not so important after all, is it? It is living honorably. That is important."
Captain Sewell looked off. Mr. Nakano read the look as compassionate, yet troubled.
Captain Sewell said, "I lost my wife in a drive-by shooting at Northway Mall in Anchorage. I was helpless. I wish it had been me. I wish I'd acted quicker."
Grace and sympathy is called for here, Mr. Nakano believed. I must show compassion and understanding. In return, perhaps the Captain will soften.
"You must get on with your life," Mr. Nakano said.
"You'll go to court." His face rearranged itself into a tight frown.
This is not working, Mr. Nakano thought. The Captain will not relent, will not yield, will not release me!
"Will they send me to Japan?" Mr. Nakano asked.
"They might."
"I will be killed there."
"Don't try to escape, Mr. Nakano. The waters are cold. You'd get hypothermia and drown. Even with a life preserver, you wouldn't have much time to get to shore. You'd have to be young and with a very strong constitution to make it. And even if you did, chances are the cops would be all over you soon as you hit shore."
Captain Sewell got up. He looked back at Mr. Nakano in a strange way as he closed the stateroom door.
Several hours passed, but Mr. Nakano could not quiet his soul. People in this world, Mr. Nakano thought as he lay in the bunk, are prone to be selfish and unsympathetic. They do not know how to love and respect one another. They argue and quarrel over trifling affairs only to their own harm and suffering, and life becomes but a dreary round of unhappiness. Regardless of whether they are rich or poor, they worry about money. They suffer from poverty and they suffer from wealth. Because their lives are controlled by greed, they are never contented, never satisfied.
Though I am not wealthy, I have worried about my possessions. I've worried lest some disaster befall me, my apartment in Tokyo burn down, robbers break in, my wife's health, my son's future. I worry about death and the disposition of my meager estate. Indeed, my way to death is lonely. Nobody will follow me to death.
I am more like a poor man. I have always suffered from insufficiency and this has served to awaken my endless desires. I must admit that at times I have been flamed with covetousness, though I have hidden such traits deep within myself, as I have hidden my blade deep within the mattress. I have worn out my body and my mind. I will come to death in the middle of my life if I do not escape. The whole world seems pitted against me. The path to death seems lonesome. It has been as though I have had a long journey to make and no friends to keep me company.
With Mr. Nakano's hands cuffed in front of him, retrieval of the long blade from inside the mattress was difficult. He had to push and twist his hands about and through sinew and binding and among stubborn springs. The material chaffed the skin of his bound hands
.
Opening the blade was no problem, because he simply started the tip with a thumbnail, much as he would were his hands free. He pushed the blade's tip against the bunk's siding and worked the sharp edge open.
Elaine Miller has the key to the cuffs.
He looked out the porthole. He checked his watch. 7:40 p.m., October 4. He opened the door slightly. A seaman swung around and leveled a rifle in his face.
"Stay there. Chief Mate's coming to get you, turn you over," the man said.
"Yes," Mr. Nakano said.
There are evils in the world, Mr. Nakano thought. There is cruelty. Every creature, even insects, strive against one another. The strong attack the weak. The weak deceive the strong. Everywhere is fighting and cruelty. And there is the tendency for people to disrespect the rights of others, to exaggerate their own importance at the expense of others, to set bad examples of behavior and, being unjust in their speech, to deceive, slander and abuse others.
Mr. Nakano had wrapped dry clothes in his duffel. His legs and chest hurt and his head pounded, but he concentrated on how he would move. The handle to the door turned, and the door opened. Chief Mate Elaine Miller stuck her head into the stateroom.
Mr. Nakano leapt, arms outstretched. He circled his arms about Elaine's head, twisting, turning her body. They fell to the deck of the stateroom. She was on top of him on the floor, her back pressed against his chest. And he gripped the blade against her throat.
The seaman pushed in behind and leveled the rifle on Mr. Nakano.
"Drop the knife!" the seaman said. Mr. Nakano's grip on her throat tightened.
"He's got a knife to my throat, Jerry," Elaine said. Mr. Nakano pushed the edges up, pushing the skin in. A slight movement would draw her blood.
"Get out of here," Mr. Nakano said.
"Do as he says," Elaine said.
The seaman backed away. The stateroom door closed. Mr. Nakano and Elaine were alone.