The boy said nothing, but he wondered to himself: "Is Haruko just a whore, nothing better than that? No, it doesn't have to be that way," he thought.
The harbormaster sent two boys off on an errand and then sat down.
"Why did you take her out in your boat?" the harbormaster continued.
"He loves her," Sugiyama intervened. "I asked him yesterday if she was his girl, and he said yes."
"You ought to wise up. But you're too young I guess," the harbormaster said. "She's not too bad at that, Markie. Say Kazu, wasn't that the same girl we got for you the first time we took you out?"
The boy looked angrily at Kazu.
"Was she? I don't remember," said Kazu.
"Why, you should remember your first piece. And Hamaguchi, for a while you took Haruko all the time, didn't you?"
"Nah, it was only a couple of times because you said she was a good lay."
"Is that how it was?" said Matsukawa, scratching his head.
The boy looked angrily at the circle of men as if they had all violated Haruko.
"I guess she's about worn out by now," said Hamaguchi.
Everyone laughed again at Hamaguchi's remark. In a fit of passion the boy was ready to attack them all, but he managed to hold back. He left the place without saying anything, and the others began to talk and laugh.
The boy tried to put Haruko out of his mind as he had when he found her busy with a customer, but he could not. He could not rid himself of the picture of the woman who had been so kind to him on the previous night; he could not see her as a whore bought by the harbor boys one after another, though at heart he knew it was her trade.
The boy's anger mounted: ". . . those bastards—Hamaguchi, Matsukawa, Yama, Sugiyama, and even Kazu . . ."
The private world of his boat and his girl, so recently realized, was now smashed by something he had not reckoned on at all.
He ran off toward the harbor. The Contessa was being repaired and repainted. She looked more voluptuous than ever, drawn up on the shore, her keel visible.
"Well, that's the end of my dream. My beautiful dream's been destroyed! All I worked for so hard was just to be made a fool of. But I'm not a fool. I didn't do anything wrong! Haruko didn't do anything wrong either. It's those bastards who ruined it all—they're the ones who pushed my face in the mud!"
The boy felt dizzy and reached out for the boat's hull.
"Wait, I'll even things!"
Then he climbed up onto the deck and lay down looking up at the sky. The masts and stays were all trembling in the gale. Small flags over the weather vanes were flapping wildly, ready to tear any moment. He could tell the wind must be especially strong because normally it was kept out by the high walls to the south.
Some time later he heard Hamaguchi calling, "Markie! Hey Markie!'
The boy stood up and Hamaguchi saw his head.
"Oh, there you are!" said Hamaguchi. "Can you come over and help us rig the Roi d'Or? We've got to get to Misaki before this storm breaks loose tonight."
"Who's going?"
"Mr. Williams, Sugi, myself, and one more who isn't busy."
"Can you handle it? The wind'll blow up a lot stronger, and the waves are going to be plenty rough."
"That's why we've got to get there before dark. It's already taken us an hour longer than we expected to get the mast repaired."
The boy jumped down from the Contessa.
When he came over to the side of the boat, Hamaguchi said, "I'll go and phone the others. Can you go help with the mainstay? . . . I wonder if that idiot might have forgotten to . . . "
"Where are the stays kept?"
"In the storehouse," said Hamaguchi as he rushed away.
The boy went to the storehouse on the quay. Huge waves were beating against the rocks, sending the spray up against the walls. He went inside and picked up the mainstay labeled "Roi d'Or." As he was about to take it, his glance was drawn to something strange. Under the lamp he examined the stay more closely and saw that part of it was worn. Anyone could break it easily with his hands.
Something suddenly occurred to the boy: the crew would be Hamaguchi, Sugi, and Mr. Williams. Outside of Mr. Higgins, he didn't care for any foreigners. Too bad that Matsukawa wouldn't join the crew, but you can't have everything.
He left the storehouse carrying the stay and went over to the Roi d'Or. She lay in the water, her masts towering high above the deck and leaning with the wind. The boy was particularly skilled at working aloft, and he did a good job of binding the masts with rope and setting the stays. But after thinking for a while, he fixed the cracked stay at a point where it would break easily when used.
This stay would not be used while the boat was leaving the harbor and heading out to sea. But when the Roi d'Or tacked and was in full sail, the stay would be pulled to its tautest supporting the mast, and the mast would be bent with the heavy swollen sail. The damaged part would easily break, and the mast without the supporting stay would be quickly broken by the angry gale wind. This was the only way such a cruiser-type boat would capsize.
The work over, the boy took a look out to sea and saw the high waves angrily foaming and tossing in the wind.
All the clouds on the horizon between Oshima and Izu had been blown away except for a solitary speck in the distance that looked like a little island.
"Okay!" the boy said to himself in a low voice, but with obvious relish.
The yacht left the harbor at four. The boy did not feel like watching with the others, so he made off into the hills beyond the harbor where he could be alone and survey the progress of the yacht.
All the small yachts had returned because of the strong winds. Then one by one the other boats came in while the setting sun spread a deep glow across the surging waters. The solitary departing yacht presented a picture of tragic beauty, heeling over in the wind as she sailed towards the fading light.
"It serves you right!" the boy said aloud. "Even if you turn back, the stay'll snap!"
He made his way home.
As it grew dark, the wind blew stronger. People on the street were exchanging greetings, saying how early it was for a typhoon, and gathering their belongings to prevent them from being blown away. The boy turned on the radio during supper. The weather was the main topic of the news:
. . . minor storm-centers that had been far over the southern sea joined at about two o'clock this afternoon . . . . seems to have developed quickly, at first giving indications that it would move on to the eastern sea, skimming south of Hachijo island. However, now it is rushing in a north-north-easterly direction having made a sudden shift in its course. If it keeps on the present course, it is very likely to reach Sagami Peninsula, passing the island of Oshima late tonight or early tomorrow morning. A shift toward the western part of Boso peninsula can also be expected . . . . Miyake island reports typhoon winds . . . . Typhoon warnings have been issued for the Kanto district."
"A typhoon, huh?" the boy said in a low voice, putting down his chopsticks.
Now he believed that the catastrophic violence of nature was lending its strength to his scheme of revenge. A smile crossed his face. After supper he went to the harbor.
Black clouds were flying low across the sky. A three-quarter moon, with a bluish ring around it, made a momentary appearance from behind the fast-moving clouds. Rain drops pattered on the dry roofs and then stopped as a presage of the oncoming typhoon.
The people of the harbor had pulled as many boats as they could up onto the beach, leaving the ones in the water tied firmly together at the bow and stern. They were now awaiting the storm. Everyone showed serious concern for the yacht that had left the harbor for Misaki earlier that evening, complaining that the weather forecast had been too late in coming.
The aspect of the sea was completely altered now. The waves crashed with a roar over the breakwater, the spray falling on the barrier continuously like a torrential downpour. Each time there was a gust of wind, all the masts hit together, making a great
clatter. The waves that surged towards the inlet through the harbor mouth ran all the way up the beach, exploding ferociously, claiming everything they touched.
When the boys finished their work on and around the boats, they gathered at the club office for further information about the storm and the Roi d'Or. Looking tense, Mr. Matsukawa tried to call the ports of Misaki, Hiratsuka, and Takeyama by phone. He got through to Misaki, then to Hiratsuka. Both answers were "no arrival."
"She couldn't be at Takeyama; she'd have come back here. I wish she'd tell us where she is."
Matsukawa had asked the authorities to see about rescue preparations.
"This is awful. Nothing like this has ever happened before."
"With such a southerly wind full in the face, how could she get to Hiratsuka? She should have come back here or taken refuge somewhere near Takeyama at least."
The phone rang.
"It may be Takeyama," said Mr. Matsukawa.
Everyone stopped talking and waited in silence.
Matsukawa shook his head and hung up the phone.
"No news," he said. "There's little hope in this storm! If there's anything wrong with the rigging, the mast'll snap and she'll capsize. It's all the weather bureau's fault. How could they wait so long!"
"Who was on board? Maybe we'd better inform their families?"
"Mr. Williams, Hamaguchi, Sugi, and . . . And who took Kimijima's place? Who took your place, Kimijima?"
"Tokiji" was the reply.
"What?" cried the boy. No wonder he wasn't there. "Tokiji! Are you sure it was Tokiji?"
Kimijima nodded.
The boy was struck dumb at the unforeseen turn of fate. His scheme had failed. But the boy did not blame himself. Now he hated Hamaguchi and Sugiyama more than before for having probably tricked Tokiji into going.
"Bastards! Tokiji was aboard too."
"Take it easy. Fussing won't help."
"Poor Tokiji," Kimijima moaned and began to sob. "I killed him. It's just like I murdered him."
The boy was shocked at the thought. He stared at Kimijima crying over his friend. He had let Tokiji take his place in the crew when he was called home. The boy could do or say nothing for him; he just patted him on the shoulder.
"Killed? Killed?" the boy thought.
The boy had not thought beyond the fact that the stay would snap, the mast would break, and the yacht would capsize—that was all.
Have I killed him? Is that the way this will end?
The boy was about to shout the words but managed to swallow them. With his teeth clenched he ran out of the room.
"I don't care about the other guys. Don't let him die—don't kill him! Tokiji! Tokiji!" He called his friend's name, but his voice trembled. He rushed to the storehouse. Clearing some of the boats out of the way, the boy quickly got his own into the water. He lowered the rudder and hoisted the sails. He was not quite sure what he was doing. He just felt as if he absolutely had to start for someplace. The sails soon filled out in the wind, and he was away. At that moment, Mr. Matsukawa caught sight of the boy and came running out of the clubhouse.
"Hey! Where are you going, you fool? Come back! Stop! Stop!" he cried.
The boy seemed to hear him, for he turned back a moment as his yacht passed through the entrance of the harbor.
Beyond the harbor walls the strong gale swept down upon the yacht, hurling it for a moment to the top of a wave and then down into an abyss. The boy managed to steer aslant the high waves though the heavy water drenched his body.
Tears streamed down his cheeks for a while, but now battling with the huge walls of black water he began to concentrate entirely on sailing the little craft. He was a good sailor, and once he was caught up in the challenge that faced him he forgot Tokiji, Haruko, and everything.
The only thing in his mind was the legendary white knight.
As the boat rushed towards the open sea it had to pass close to a number of dangerously projecting rocks around which the waves broke in angry swirls.
The harbormaster and those around him stood dumbfounded watching the boy's yacht head out to sea.
Like a phantom it would come and go, momentarily showing its small white sails as it drifted up with the swell only to go out of sight again as it swept down into a dark valley of sea.
Once and for all it disappeared in the black water and was not seen again.
Season of Violence Page 13