“The problem lies here,” Mamoru said, lifting a heavy board of wood towards the bow of the boat. He peered into the hull. “The mechanical parts have failed. We will have to repair them. Somehow.” He sighed and, for the first time, seemed concerned. “I am afraid it might take longer than expected to reach the Seven Maidens.”
“Christ almighty,” I heard Honey mumble under his breath.
Peter said, “This shouldn’t be too difficult to repair, should it? It’s only a primitive little thing.” He spoke the words brightly but could not hide the slight tremble in his voice.
“I hope so,” Mamoru said.
“I hope you’re equipped to deal with such vagaries of travel,” Peter said. “Seeing as you are an academic.”
“I shall do my best.”
“Can’t you do anything, Honey?” said Peter. “You’re in charge of tin mines, for heaven’s sake. Who repairs all those monstrous dredging machines you have?”
“Not me,” Honey said. “I look after other things. More important things.”
“Such as?” Peter said with exaggerated incredulity.
“Money. Relations with the locals,” Honey replied, snorting his derision. “Things you wouldn’t understand. Isn’t this a case of stones in glass houses, coming from a jobbing actor?”
“I told you before: I’m not an actor. Anyway, actors aren’t renowned for their prowess with Malay fishing boats.”
“Why do you always look at me when things go wrong?” said Honey. “What about your little friend there?”
“You mean Johnny?” Peter said, raising his voice. “He’s a textile merchant, not a bloody mechanic. What do you expect him to do?”
Mamoru raised his hand suddenly. “Stop,” he said quietly.
We stood in silence for a moment. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“The wind,” he said. True, a breeze had developed steadily, though none of us was aware of it until then. “And the moon.”
As I lifted my head to look at the clouded-over night sky, Mamoru shouted, “We must drop anchor now!”
“Mamoru, what’s going on?” I said, but he was running across the deck, searching for the anchor.
It was Johnny who spoke. “We have been drifting. The wind has pushed us off course. Without the motor we have nothing to resist it. Now that the light has gone, it will be impossible to navigate.”
I looked again at the ink-black sky. It had darkened rapidly, soaking up the night like father’s watercolours on rice paper. Not a single star was visible.
Mamoru said that we had not been blown too far off course and assured everyone that we would reach the Seven Maidens as planned. I tried to tell him it was not his fault, but he paid no attention to what I said.
“I lost concentration, just for a moment,” he said as he rattled various parts of the machinery. “I should never have let this happen.”
“Please, Mamoru, do not blame yourself,” I said. “There’s nothing you could have done.”
I watched him work. His strength surprised and scared me. He pulled at a metal shaft, which seemed to break in his hands. The noise it made screamed in my ears. He said very little, in spite of my attempts to engage him in conversation. Obviously, he was still upset for falling short of his high standards.
“Mamoru, calm down, this is not your doing,” I said over the uncomfortable noise he was making with the machinery. He put his arms around a part of the machine as if constricting, suffocating it the way a python kills a pig. I thought he was making a noise too, a low howl of pain that seemed to stay within his chest. Then he took a step back and kicked the machine. Small parts came loose and fell away. I did not know what he was doing. He seemed to be tearing it apart.
He stopped and glared at me. His face and forearms were dirty; the grease cut black streaks over his white skin. A fox peering from the dark. “I think you should get some sleep,” he said.
I returned to my cabin immediately. The others appeared to be resting or sleeping. I did not pay too much attention to what they were doing. I simply went to bed.
When I woke up it was light and we were still motionless. That was two hours ago. I joined the others on deck, sheltering in the shade of the little shack. No one spoke. Mamoru sat on the floor, his back leaning against a bench, his head bowed in exhaustion. He did not look at me even when my footsteps passed in front of him. The sun had burnt the cloud away; the light spread evenly across the placid sea.
I caught Peter’s eye. He shook his head and silently mouthed a few words I could not comprehend. I went back to my cabin and sat before my diary.
Now we are lost, drifting, it seems, to nowhere.
STILL NO PROGRESS. Peter thinks something is very wrong. He says we are still being blown by the wind. He has been watching the waves all day and believes we are being swept away.
Mamoru still not speaking.
