Reading the log up to this point, Kazuo already had a clear picture of the owner and his family. With a son in high school and a daughter in elementary, the owner and his wife had to be in their forties. The son belonged to a high school yachting club. The daughter, probably a fifth-or sixth-grader, was also crazy about sailing. Then there was the wife, who, being of genteel upbringing, did not enjoy life at sea. From what the log suggested, they were not only well-off but the very image of a happy family. Kazuo couldnt tell what the father did for a living, but he certainly didnt seem like a regular salaried employee if he could get ten consecutive days off work at this time of year and, of course, afford the upkeep of a luxury yacht. He had to be either the owner of his company or a successfully self-employed man.
As Kazuo read on, his envy subsided. The owners unabashed love for his wife and children made it difficult for him to feel resentful toward the family and its privileged circumstances. The log, in fact, was invigorating to read and put Kazuo in a sunny mood. Here was the kind of family you never saw in the seaside fishing community where hed grown up. His parents had fought constantly like alley cats, and theyd been too poor to afford a car, let alone a luxury yacht. As the second of four children, Kazuo had never been pushed by his parents to excel in either sports or studies; nor could he recall being praised by them, ever. His family had never spent so much as a single night away together on vacation. The life portrayed in the log reflected so many ideal family virtues, not one of which his own family had evidenced. Perhaps, it was just that this family was too perfect.
But by the third day out of port, the idyllic voyage was seeing signs of trouble, if that wasnt an overdramatic way of putting it. The father was beginning to get bad vibes about something and it was communicated in the pages of his log.
July 23, Sunday. Cloudy, occasional rain
It may have been a coincidence, but Im not sure. I do feel uneasy about this sort of thing when were out at sea. I wish she hadn t mentioned the dream at all.
When Yoko described the dream shed had last night, my wife gasped and fell silent. She reacts badly to things of this nature. She must have had the same dream.
Although I cant be sure, I think I had the same dream too. I cant be more precise because I simply have no clear recollection of it. Perhaps, as Yoko recounted her dream, I came to feel that Id also had the dream. I simply cant say.
Nothing could be as appalling as seeing your family, your dearest loved ones, drown in the sea before your very eyes and finding yourself unable to lift a single finger to save them. If that werent t bad enough, the sensation of having pushed them over yourself lingers in yours hands. Why, why? I cannot understand. Its the last dream anyone would want to have! Maybe the dream was born of fear. The terror of losing loved ones becomes so obsessive that you come to glimpse the worst possible scenario. Let that stand as the interpretation. Enough! Id rather not think about it again
It was clear to Kazuo what the writer was saying. A discussion of the previous nights dreams revealed that every member of the family had had the exact same dream the night before. Each had pushed the others into the sea with their own hands.
The log then went on at length to describe how smoothly the voyage was going. The writer was attempting to dispel the uncanny dream with a forced tone of cheerfulness, and Kazuo just skimmed these pages.
July 24, Monday. Fair, N wind 34 m, Temp. 30°C
Yoko made another strange remark today. She has a habit of doing this and its beginning to annoy me. She seems convinced that she has some strange powers. Such nonsense must be the fad at school. She was probably scaring her classmates with that kind of talk at the school outing before summer vacation. The scene isn t all that difficult to imagine. I know Yoko shared a room with three others. When it got dark, the silly girl must have told them, Theres someone else in this room. Hinting that there was a fifth presence managed to scare the others. And so now shes trying the same trick on us. Its the kind of thing she would do.
Listen, Yoko. There are only the jour of us on this boat. There is no fifth presence here or anything of the kind. Last year, when I brought one of my friends along, you didnt like it, did you? You said you had nothing against him but that it tired you having to be on your best behaviour all the time. So I planned this cruise for us to be all by ourselves, just the four of us. Have you got that? The only ones here on this boat are the four of us, the family. Just as you wanted
Although there was no exact indication of when this entry was made, it was probably at night. After all, the log came to an abrupt end with the following few sentences.
Tomorrow morning well enter the waters south of Torishima and begin our cruise around the island. We must thank God for this excellent weather and calm voyage.? 1 just heard someone scream. Takahisa is now on watch. He probably saw a sharks fin cutting through the water. Such a sight is certainly not comforting, especially in the moonlight. Now that I think about it, today at dusk
At this point, something no doubt caught the writers attention, for the sentence wasnt finished. He must have abandoned the log to go investigate.
As the captain was making this entry, his son stood on watch, while his wife and daughter were probably asleep.
The log recorded what the daughter had said earlier that day. Yoko had apparently tried to persuade her father that there was some other presence aboard the cruiser. Her father had dismissed her concerns as childish nonsense and later chided her in the log. The daughter seemed to be fond of making remarks that hinted of the occult.
Closing the leather covers of the log, Kazuo threw it onto the table. According to the entries, something had happened on July 24th two nights ago. The four of them had either vanished that night or been swept overboard the next morning, though the details of this werent clear. Two things bothered Kazuo now that hed read the log. The first was that the entire family of four had apparently had the same dream at the same time. The second was that the presence of someone other than the family members had been sensed by at least one passenger. Otherwise, the log spoke of nothing unusual. It seemed a faithful description of a smooth voyage.
Kazuo took a second bottle of wine from the refrigerator. He needed to get a little more drunk if he wanted to sleep that night.
Kazuo took a second bottle of wine from the refrigerator. He needed to get a little more drunk if he wanted to sleep that night.
3
Kazuo was aware that he was dreaming. But not waking up, he remained crouched atop a large rock surrounded by the sea, crushing the crabs at his feet with a fist-sized stone. The more crabs he crushed, the more came clambering out of the water to try to crawl up Kazuos feet. As he brought down the stone, he felt, first, the hard shell resist before it cracked and splintered, and next a mushy sensation. The top of the large rock was so littered with smushed crabs that hardly an inch of the surface was visible. Like an obsessed man, Kazuo continued to exterminate the crabs. He sensed a gaze burning into his back and wondered whether it was his conscious self staring at his dreaming self. But no, the gaze embodied a powerful will intent on senseless slaughter, and it gave Kazuo no choice but to wield the stone.
Soon there were no more crabs left alive on the rock, but the urge to continue killing did not abate. Where could Kazuo find the life on which to vent his murderous rage? The feeling of being watched grew stronger, and the gaze was urging him on. Obligingly, Kazuo raised the stone high over his head and smashed it down on his feet. The dull thud of tearing flesh and splintering bone reverberated upwards through him. Although he felt no pain, he suffered the horrible anguish of knowing that he was rending his own flesh. He kept smashing at his feet with the stone until the bones were pulverized, and the torment finally shook him awake.
His eyes now opened and fixed on the ceiling, Kazuo gasped and held his breath. The scene of the dream receded into thin air together with the putrid smell of dead crabs, and the features of the real world, the rocking of the boat and the lapping of the waves, came into focus. Kazuo sensed that something was different. He hadnt been roused from his sleep just by the terror of a nightmare; his seamans instinct that something was amiss had also stirred him. Instantly forgetting the dream, he concentrated every nerve in his body on the motion of the boat. It seemed subtly different from when hed fallen asleep.
Getting up, he went to the cabin and tried to calm his breathing. Telling himself to relax, he glanced at his watch, which read 12:30 a.m. Hed only been asleep three hours. His heart was pounding violently. He was getting the feeling that the boat wasnt plying water.
It was but five steps up from the cabin to the cockpit. A tall man, Kazuo dashed up stooping, opened the hatch, and made his way out.
Although he was quite sure that hed turned on the navigating lights before retiring, he found out differently. The expansive teak deck was illuminated only by the moon and stars above. The stern of the Wakashio VII, which should have been visible straight ahead, wasnt there.
Of all the
Unable to believe his eyes, he vainly scanned in every direction. There was no sign of any boat. The line that separated the sky and the sea was now a deep dark thing that also engulfed the cruiser. Kazuo stood all alone in the midnight ocean. An acidic taste came surging into his mouth.
Kazuo crawled towards the bow to check the bow cleat that secured the rope from the Wakashio VII. The rope was gone. It had apparently come undone from the bow cleat. Kazuo swallowed in alarm. This was absolutely impossible; no amateur had tied the knot; veteran seamen were all masters of rope-work. The rope had been bound to the cleat with a cleat knot and wound around twice for good measure. It simply couldnt have come undone on its own. Hed checked several times after the yacht had gone into tow. Could someone with a grudge against Kazuo have contrived a slipping knot? That seemed unlikely, but then, who on earth could have untied it when there was no one else on the boat but himself? Could he have done it himself? It was a hazy idea. Kazuo held out his palms and stared at them. He vaguely remembered seeing himself from afar untying the knot under some sort of compulsion. Another scene from the dream?