There's no one here!'
'Double-check the berths and bunks!'
With this command from the captain, the scout went back down into the cabin, before returning a minute or so later.
'There's not a soul aboard, Captain!' Then he added in a lower voice, with less confidence, 'There's something weird about this
But this was drowned out by the captain's roar: 'Give me her registration number!'
The man read off the number that appeared on either side of the yacht: 'KN2 - 1785, sir!' The KN indicated that the boat was registered in Kanagawa Prefecture.
'Got that. Stand by and await further instructions!'
Returning to the bridge, the captain placed a call via the Inmarsat phone to the Third Maritime Safety Division headquartered in Yokohama to report a deserted ship adrift at 29 degrees north by 141 degrees east. Asked for a detailed description of the boat as it was discovered, Captain Takagi gave a frank account of what he'd just seen.
'Any persons adrift in the sea around the vessel?'
'Negative.'
'Any objects adrift near the boat?'
'Negative.'
'Any suspicious cluster of fish or fowl?'
'Negative.'
Every question could only be met with the same answer, 'Negative'. The yacht simply lay afloat on calm waters with its sails down.
The Third Maritime Safety Division contacted its air rescue team at Haneda, where arrangements were made to immediately dispatch an aircraft to that stretch of sea. During the two to three hours it would take the plane to reach the ship, the Wakashio VII was obliged to remain on location and to keep an eye on the deserted yacht.
The nineteen crewmembers of the Wakashio VII reacted in one of two ways to this turn of events: some groaned about being held back when they were so close to Japan; others wondered about this intriguing yacht that had appeared out of nowhere. Kazuo belonged to the latter group. He'd always dreamed of sailing the ocean someday aboard a luxury yacht just like this one. The sudden appearance of the yacht somehow presaged the fulfilment of his dream. He felt a strong urge to board her.
They waited two and a half hours before they heard the roar of an approaching aircraft, the one dispatched by the Maritime Safety Agency.
The aircraft circled high above the Wakashio VII several times, searching for any evidence of people set adrift. The plane scoured the area no more than thirty minutes and headed back to its home base.
What course of action to take next was discussed in a second telephone conversation between the Wakashio VII and the Third Maritime Safety Division. Any obligation the fishing vessel may have had toward the abandoned ship was fulfilled by notifying the Maritime Safety Agency. Although the agency had dispatched an aircraft to confirm the report, the Wakashio VII had kept the yacht under surveillance the whole time. There could be no justification for compelling them to do any more than they'd already done.
Still, as a practical matter, they couldn't just leave the yacht and go. Who knew where it might drift unattended? A patrol boat from the Maritime Safety Agency would have a difficult time relocating the deserted boat. Naturally, the agency requested that the Wakashio VII stay put and keep an eye on the yacht until a patrol boat arrived.
Captain Takagi thought for a moment before responding to the agency's mildly worded request. It would be all too easy to refuse. They did not want to tarry any longer. If, by any chance, they ended up being detained for a few days with the home port so close, the crewmembers would turn rebellious. Takagi's prime concern as captain was precisely how best to keep his men's irritation and discontent under control.
On the other hand, there was that blot in his copybook about the two men who'd been swept overboard off the coast of New Zealand. Although one had been rescued, the other had lost his life. That had been an accident pure and simple, but the captain knew that the Maritime Safety Agency would launch an inquiry immediately upon their return. Volunteering to aid the agency with the present case was surely the wise thing to do; it would buy the kind of goodwill that might stand them in good stead later.
Captain Takagi came up with a compromise. 'How about if we towed the yacht part of the way back?'
The compromise would permit the Wakashio VII to continue her northward journey, with the yacht in tow, while maintaining contact with the patrol boat heading down south from Shimoda. The vessels would rendezvous at a point where the Wakashio VII could relinquish its load. With a yacht in tow, they would be forced to reduce speed to around five or six knots, but that was far preferable to waiting idly for the patrol boat to arrive.
The Maritime Safety Agency accepted Captain Takagi's proposal, whereupon it fell to the Wakashio VII to tow the yacht.
No sooner had the decision been made than Kazuo appealed to the captain, 'Shouldn't someone man the yacht just in case?'
It would surely be of help if a seaman aboard the boat in tow handled any unforeseen problems, making fine adjustments as necessary, provided the yacht's equipment functioned normally. It would eliminate the need to lower a boat every time a problem arose.
'You like her, don't you?' Takagi had read his mind.
'Yes, sir.'
'Well go ahead then.'
The captain gave him a walkie-talkie, which would easily work over the distance and was much handier than using the radio.
It was decided that Kazuo should man the yacht all alone. Why no one else had even bothered to volunteer puzzled him. Excepting crew who had to go on watch, there was surely no work to be done on a ship on the final leg of its journey home. How comfortable it would be, he imagined, to sleep in the cabin of the cruiser, rather than on a bunk in a cabin shared with four men! He saw himself sprawling out in a double berth all to himself.
As Kazuo boarded the yacht, the veteran seaman Ueda handed him a supply of food and water. The average age of the crew of Wakashio VII was thirty-seven, with Kazuo being the youngest at twenty-seven, and Ueda the oldest at fifty-seven. This survivor of many a crisis at sea wrinkled his creased face further and muttered, 'Won't see a ghost ship every day.'
The words gave Kazuo pause. Ghost ship… Was that how the other crewmembers felt about the yacht?
Kazuo finally understood why the other crewmembers were giving him curious looks. It explained why no one else wanted to board the yacht; they didn't see it as a luxury yacht but as some hideous thing from hell.
It was only as Ueda's boat drew away that Kazuo experienced his first doubts.
Come to think of it, what had happened to the crew of the cruiser?
… Swept overboard.
Kazuo had assumed that they'd fallen into the sea because of an accident. Perhaps some crew had been swept overboard by a huge broadside wave and the rest had plunged into the sea in a vain attempt to rescue their mates. Since the lifeboat was still in place and showed no signs of having been used, they couldn't have taken it to escape some crisis aboard. Kazuo had been under the impression that his crewmates thought more or less the same, but now, it occurred to him that perhaps the yacht had been deserted for some other reason. It gave him the chills, rather too late.
Ueda's boat safely tucked back, Wakashio VII slowly began to pull away, causing the towrope connecting it to the yacht to snap tight. The luxury boat started to glide along in the calm waters. With an air of regret, Kazuo stood for a while on deck and stared at the stern of the Wakashio VII. The ship wasn't leaving him behind, it was just fifty yards or so ahead. The rope was tied to the bow cleat. If he felt in need of even a casual chat, he could always use the walkie-talkie. He had nothing to worry about.
The evening sun was setting into the western horizon. Somehow, its scarlet hue that evening seemed to set it apart from all other sunsets he'd seen. He couldn't put the difference in words, but he thought of the colour of blood.
Kazuo was due to spend the night all alone in the cruiser's cabin. He was far from excited, and two cold shivers ran through his body.