Only once did Johnny look up at us. He caught my eye but quickly returned to the machine. His glance lasted only half a second, but in that look I saw everything I have come to realise. He possesses a world that is locked away from me. That world may, I sense, be rich in secrets, but even if it is not, the fact remains: I simply do not know my husband. The man I married was not the same man who was now saving our lives. Standing on that deck in the clear sunlight, I could not even remember the man I married.
The repair did not take long. Johnny himself went to the helm, and after a shuddering bellow of black smoke and a screeching whine, the boat began to move. Mamoru insisted that we had not drifted far off course, and that the journey would not take long. Peter glanced at me and shook his head, but I did not respond. Now that the boat was moving again and Mamoru was in charge, I knew we would find what we were searching for.
All day we cut across the smooth green sea, steadily following the course Mamoru had set for us. We saw no other boats, no islands, no clouds, nothing; only the sun, white and hazy above us.
“Where are the bloody gulls?” Peter said. “Where there are gulls there is land. Isn’t that right?”
No one answered. The glare hurt my eyes and made my head swirl. I tried to stand next to Mamoru as he steered the boat, but I could not keep my balance. I heard Peter’s voice call my name and then felt Mamoru’s arm around my back, supporting me. I blinked and found myself seated on Mamoru’s soft travelling bag with a wet cloth draped on my brow.
Hour upon hour passed. We stopped looking at our watches. They seemed silly, useless. I drifted in and out of sleep. The others did too, I think. Only Mamoru remained alert. Every time I opened my eyes I saw him outlined against the painful white light. I should not have allowed myself to believe the journey would be a short one. I should have been like Johnny, who had resolutely and silently returned to the darkened cabin, or like Honey, who sat speaking quietly to himself before falling into alcohol-kissed slumber. I should not have allowed myself to believe the unbelievable, I said, turning to Peter. His eyes were closed in a thin sleep. He nodded, but I think he did not hear or understand what I meant.
And it was this thought that stayed with me as we glided into the still, shallow waters of this island. I would not let myself believe we were saved. We floated closer and closer to the beach until finally we felt the sand on the hull.
The sudden sight of land after days at sea does strange things to men. Honey jumped clean off the boat, mumbling as he did so, and splashed his way to shore. Mamoru dived into the water headfirst, and when he surfaced he turned his face skyward, eyes closed, mouth open, as if tasting fresh air for the very first time. He declared the water shallow and calm, and stood with his arms aloft, calling for me. I stepped onto the rough wooden steps on the side of the boat, Peter insisting on holding my hand until I was within Mamoru’s reach. When I reached the bottom step I simply let my body drop into his; he carried me to shore, lifting me so that only my feet brushed the water.
Peter helped Johnny off the boat and walked with him until they too reached the beach.
Beyond the wash of the waves the sand was hot and coarse under our toes — too hot to stand on — and we headed quickly into the deep shade cast by a huge sea almond. We lay here whilst Mamoru swam out to the boat to collect some of our things. He made several trips, and on the final one brought me this diary, still tightly wrapped in its wax cloth.
I cannot say exactly how long we remained there. The hours were meaningless: all night and into the morning, we lay sleeping or merely staring at the rust-coloured leaves of the tree above us. Its boughs pointed like crooked fingers out to sea, curling at the ends as if to indicate the boundary of our makeshift world. Not once did anyone venture beyond its shelter.
We are not dead, and for that I should be thankful. But I do not want to believe that we are properly, completely alive. Not yet.
THE COOLNESS OF THE EARLY EVENING began to lure us from our refuge. Peter was the first to venture forth, stretching his long limbs uncertainly as he descended the gentle slope of the beach to where the wavelets washed ashore, fading into the sand. He paused before tentatively stepping into the sea, putting one foot slowly in front of the other, as if remembering how to walk. Suddenly, he collapsed, falling into the water in a thrashing, pulsating ball.
“What on earth is he doing?” Honey said. “Is he having a fit?”
