Stealth of the Ninja

by Philip Roy

  Ziegfried dropped his hand sympathetically onto my shoulder, gesturing for me to sit down on the sand, which I did. He did too, and Hollie jumped all over him. Seaweed landed beside us and just stared. Ziegfried reached over and gently touched my ear, which made me pull away. He said one word, slowly and clearly. “How?”

  I dropped my head. I felt ashamed. When I raised it, I saw a deeply sympathetic look on his face.

  “Did you rescue the old man?”

  I nodded my head.

  “Is he alive?”

  I nodded again. “Yes, but he’s really sick.”

  “He’s in the sub?”

  “Yes.”

  Ziegfried raised his eyebrows in disbelief. He didn’t seem angry. “Where?”

  “Out there.” I pointed out to where the sub was sitting in the water. You couldn’t see it from the beach.

  “And the sub? She’s okay?”

  “Yes, but we’ve got to get Sensei to the hospital right away.”

  “Okay, Al. Bring the sub in as close as you can. I’ll help you get the old man into the dinghy, and we’ll take him to the hospital in Naha. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  We jumped up, put the dinghy back in the water, and I paddled out, climbed in, and brought the sub as close to the beach as possible. Ziegfried walked out to his chest, climbed onto the hull, reached down into the portal, and took hold of Sensei as I pushed him up from below. Sensei was nonresponsive. I was really afraid for him now.

  “He doesn’t look good, Al. I’ll take him to the beach and put him in the car. After you go and hide the sub as best you can, I’ll come back out in the dinghy to get you.”

  “Okay.”

  I did as I was told. I tied the sub between rocks off shore. It worried me the hull would scrape against the rocks if the weather turned foul but there was nowhere else to moor it.

  I let enough water into the tanks to sink the hatch an inch below the surface. Water rushed in before I could climb out and seal the hatch, but the sump pumps would remove it. The sub could be spotted from the air only if someone was looking for it but was invisible from the beach and water.

  Once Ziegfried appeared in the dinghy, we made our way to his rented car, where Sensei was lying unconscious in the backseat. Hollie climbed onto my lap in the front, and Seaweed rode on the roof as we pulled onto the road. The car leaned close to the road on Ziegfried’s side. We both felt very tense because we didn’t know if Sensei was going to make it, although we didn’t talk about that.

  “Sheba sends her love, Al.”

  I had to look at Ziegfried to hear him. The ringing in my head was loud and distracting.

  “How was your trip?”

  “Not too bad. I was alone on the plane. No one wants to travel to Japan right now. This nuclear meltdown is a big deal, Al. Nobody knows how bad it will be, except that it’s really bad.”

  “Thousands died in the tsunami.”

  “I know. We saw it on TV. A natural disaster and then a man-made one, all at the same time.” Ziegfried shook his head. “What a catastrophe.”

  “Have you been here long?”

  “A few days. I thought about renting a boat and boathouse already, but didn’t want to leave the area in case you arrived. I’ve rented a cabin in a little town called Kunigami, but we’ve got to go straight to Naha now, to the hospital. How’s he doing, Al? Is he breathing?”

  I turned around and put my hand on Sensei’s chest. “Yes, he’s breathing.”

  “Check his pulse, Al.”

  I reached back again, took Sensei’s wrist, and felt for his pulse.

  “Here. Take my watch. Count how many beats you feel in a minute, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Sensei’s pulse was weak and slow. I didn’t like the feel of it. “Thirty-seven.”

  “Thirty-seven? Are you sure? You’d better count it again, Al.”

  “Okay.” So I did. “Thirty-nine.”

  “That’s pretty slow. Keep checking his breathing. We’ve got three hours to the hospital, I think.”

  We drove along the small road through a rocky, tropical landscape that reminded me of Saipan. Ziegfried’s side of the car leaned so close to the road that it scraped a few times. I settled into my seat, with Hollie on my lap, and kept an eye on Sensei.

  Although I had slept the night before, and the night before that, I couldn’t seem to stay awake. It was so much warmer on land than at sea, and the movement of the car, so smooth and steady, kept lulling me to sleep. I tried hard to stay awake to listen to Ziegfried, but my head kept falling forward. It was such a long drive to the hospital that I was asleep long before we got there.

  Ziegfried carefully opened the door and helped me out. He had already taken Sensei into the emergency ward. Now he had a worried look on his face for me. Was there anything else wrong with me, he wanted to know? I didn’t think so. Decompression sickness and a burst eardrum were enough, weren’t they? Ziegfried frowned as he stared at my sweaty head. No. There must be something else.

  As usual, he was right.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Sensei had a collapsed lung. He had picked up an infection that turned into pneumonia and collapsed the lung. The doctor told us that if we hadn’t brought him in when we did, it was unlikely he would have survived another night. Did he have family nearby? Yes, I said, he had a brother and other family, but I didn’t know who or where they were. What was his name? I didn’t know that either. I only knew him as Sensei. I knew that he was born on Okinawa, and that he was one hundred years old.

  “Many people in Okinawa are very old,” said the doctor. “Other than this issue, he appears to be extremely healthy for his age. He is, however, severely dehydrated.”

  “He was trapped in a ship under the sea for seven days,” I said.

  The doctor stared at us wide-eyed. “He was caught in the tsunami?”

  “Yes. I think one of his eardrums is burst too.”

  The doctor wrote these things in his chart. “We will take care of him. When he is conscious, we will find out who he is, and contact his family. Please keep checking in with us so we can let you know how he is doing.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  Ziegfried and I shook hands with the doctor and left the hospital.

  Next we went to a medical clinic, where a doctor looked into my ears, which was very painful, and prescribed the same medication I had taken back in India, where I first burst my eardrums. Don’t do it again, the doctor warned, or you will likely damage your hearing permanently. Will they heal completely, I asked? Possibly, the doctor said, but it will take a while. You can expect to feel weak and dizzy for a few more days.

  After my ears, the doctor examined my lymph nodes, looked into my eyes, listened to my heart and lungs, and had a nurse take my blood. This was at Ziegfried’s urging. He was concerned that I had been exposed to radiation in Choshi. I was lethargic and listless, Ziegfried told them. I thought I was just tired. But when the blood test was analyzed the next day, it showed that my iron and vitamin B12 were very low. I wasn’t eating enough red meat, the doctor concluded. That was true enough; I wasn’t eating any. Low iron and low B12 would make me tired all the time, the doctor said. Eat red meat. I shook my head.

  “He is a stubborn young man,” the doctor said to Ziegfried.

  Ziegfried frowned. “You have no idea.”

  When we left the clinic for the second time, we went in search of foods with lots of iron and B12. We bought nuts, seeds, raisins, grains, broccoli, spinach, blackstrap molasses, and nutritional yeast. Plenty of iron and B12 in those foods, Ziegfried assured me. That worked for me. Why kill animals if we don’t have to?

  Next, we had to find a place to refit the sub. I thought she was fit enough for the return trip to Newfoundland, but Ziegfried shook his head. “Not a chance.”

  He wanted to overhaul the engine, clean out all the pipes, clean and re-test the valves, replace electrical wires and fuses, test the propeller and crank sha
ft for metal fatigue, test the fittings around the hatch and observation window, and scrape and repaint the hull.

  “That would take six months!” I said.

  “We’ve got three weeks,” he answered. “We’ll work flat out.” But first he would make a close overall inspection.

  So we went back to the north of the island. I brought the sub closer to the beach, where Ziegfried could walk out to her and climb inside. He looked like a bear trying to squeeze into a rabbit hole. I stayed on the beach and played with Hollie, made a campfire, and roasted potatoes and vegetables in tin foil. Ziegfried spent about two hours inside the sub, which must have given him a stiff neck, because he couldn’t even stand up. When he came out and returned to the beach, he had a severe look on his face. That worried me, but his findings weren’t as bad as they could have been.

  “She’s not too bad, really” he said, wiping grease off his hands with sand and water. “The engine’s running well, but needs a cleaning. She could use new valves pretty much everywhere, in the compressors, air exchangers, gauges, tanks. Batteries need topping up. You’re not getting full electrical power.”

  I nodded. He was incredibly strict about these things.

  “She’s running well, but she’s tired, like you. Not burning air and fuel as well as she ought to. I need to see the hull better. Let’s eat, and then I’ll borrow your goggles.”

  I didn’t think my mask would fit Ziegfried at all and was surprised he would plan to go underneath the sub because he had such a fear of drowning. That showed just how dedicated he was.

  But first we sat on the sand and had a feed. I told Ziegfried how Sensei caught jellyfish and prepared them, and how he kept a garden on the ship. Ziegfried listened with great interest but raised eyebrows.

  “I don’t think it’s the best thing for you not to eat meat,” he said.

  “Sheba doesn’t eat meat.”

  Ziegfried’s face melted at the mention of her name. She was his queen.

  “Sheba’s not running herself into the ground fighting against the world.”

  “I’m not fighting against the world; I just don’t want to kill animals anymore.”

  “Animals kill animals.”

  “I know.”

  “Humans have been eating animals for hundreds of thousands of years.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re as stubborn as your grandfather.”

  “I feel fine.”

  “I stand corrected. You’re more stubborn than your grandfather.”

  I smiled.

  After our feast, Ziegfried pulled on the mask, which made him look like the Cyclops. He stepped into the water and carefully walked all around the sub, examining the hull, and occasionally taking a deep breath and sticking his head under water. I could tell by the stiffness of his movements how much he hated doing that. He tried to reach underneath the hull with his hands, feeling for barnacles and such, but had to go right under to see the keel and propeller. When he came out of the water he looked surprisingly happy for someone who liked being under water about as much as a cat.

  “It’s an amazing paint we put on her,” he said, as he stood dripping into the sand. “But she needs to be repainted. You’re probably losing four knots for all the barnacles you’re carrying.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t think it was that much. I could live with it anyway.

  “She’ll have to come out of the water.” He looked me in the eye. I winced. Scraping and painting her was a huge job, and I knew who would be doing all the scraping.

  “Where can we do that here?”

  “We’ll find a place. On an island like this there have to be good boathouses with pulleys for raising boats out of the water. We just have to find one to rent. We’ll look in Naha.”

  I nodded. In spite of my resistance, I knew he was right. He always was. And I was incredibly grateful for what he was doing for me.

  “I’m very sorry I broke our agreement. I just couldn’t have lived with myself if I hadn’t tried to rescue him.”

  Ziegfried shrugged and stared at the sea. I wished I knew what he was thinking. When he finally spoke, he surprised me.

  “Agreements must be amended over time. You’re a man, now, Alfred. I don’t need to tell you what to do anymore. Truth is, I couldn’t have lived with it either—if I were you. I was just trying to keep you alive, Buddy. That’s my job, and it’s not the easiest job in the world, I can tell you.” Then he smiled and slapped me on the back. “Let’s get her in shape, and get you back in the water.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The next time we went to the hospital we found Sensei sitting up in bed, surrounded by family. He was pale and thin yet much improved, and smiling a lot. He looked different to me once again, dressed in a hospital gown and surrounded by people, young and old, who seemed to admire and respect him tremendously. Was this the ninja I had known on the ship? I hardly recognized him.

  As it was already crowded in the little room, Ziegfried and I didn’t want to intrude on a family gathering, but Sensei made an urgent gesture with his arms for me to come closer. So I did. But before I could reach the side of his bed, I had to shake hands with everyone in the room, because they wanted to thank me for rescuing him, which made me feel a little awkward. Everyone bowed also, which was customary in Japan. Ziegfried and I tried to imitate the bowing, and that was awkward too. Then in an act that made everyone in the room gasp, Sensei pulled his sword from the side of his bed, and held it out for me.

  “This was my father’s sword,” he said. “I want you to have it. You are like a son to me.”

  I stared at the astonished looks on the faces of his family. This was a big deal, I knew, and I wasn’t sure that everyone here agreed with it, especially one girl who was my age. She frowned at me. I didn’t want to upset anyone by accepting the sword, but I couldn’t insult Sensei by not accepting it. So I took it as gracefully as I could, bowed my head, and said that I would treasure it always and take good care of it.

  “You will come to our home,” said the next oldest man in the room, who must have been Sensei’s brother. “We would be honoured if you would visit us when our dear brother is out of the hospital.”

  Ziegfried and I promised that we would. After a short chat with everyone, and an exchange of addresses, we were ushered out of the room by a very strict nurse. I never had a decent chance to speak with Sensei. The patient needs to rest, she said. Ziegfried and I shook Sensei’s hand, bowed to everyone once again, and left the room. As we walked out of the hospital into the sunshine, I carried Sensei’s sword proudly on my back.

  “I bet that’s sharp,” Ziegfried said.

  I remembered watching Sensei cut open a dead shark with the sword. “Yup,” I answered. “It is.”

  Naha was bustling compared to the quiet north of the island. And unlike Choshi it was colourful, full of shops, markets, and people. Newspapers and TV screens still showed pictures of the tsunami and the nuclear reactors at Fukushima, but people didn’t wear masks, and didn’t look frightened. People were unbelievably friendly, too.

  Ziegfried said that Okinawa had the oldest population in the world, with more people over a hundred than anywhere else. That didn’t surprise me. We saw lots of old people walking along the side of the road, tending gardens, or sitting outside their houses and waving as we went by, just as people did back in Newfoundland. It would have been so nice to travel all over the island, talking to people and exploring, but we had work to do.

  Finding a boathouse to rent wasn’t hard, but finding one with pulleys strong enough to lift the sub out of the water was. Communicating over the phone was tricky, too. Many people in the city spoke English, but once you went into the countryside, they didn’t as much. On one of our searches, after confirming the exact dimensions of the boathouse and strength of the pulleys, we arrived at a small chicken farm. The shed was a good size, and the pulleys were strong enough, but we were five miles from the sea.

  It took two days to find the r
ight one. The owner, a friendly, fast-talking businessman, was selling it, but was willing to rent it to us for three weeks. He was hoping we would buy it after that, but Ziegfried made it clear that wasn’t a possibility.

  Once we had the boathouse, we had to rent a boat. The boathouse was just north of an American military base near Naha. The only way to bring the sub in and out of the boathouse secretly was to sail it directly beneath a boat, with the top of the hatch nearly touching the bottom of the keel. Finding a suitable boat was almost as hard as finding the boathouse, unless we wanted to pay an insane amount of money to rent a fancy motorboat. Instead, we settled for an old fishing boat, which wasn’t entirely sea-worthy, but which we were able to rent dirt-cheap because the old fisherman liked Ziegfried. Ziegfried loved Okinawa, and everyone he met here could feel that. He had half a mind to move here, he said, if he could talk Sheba into it. Good luck with that, I said.

  Once we had arranged for the boat, Ziegfried moved out of his tiny cabin in Kunigami. We planned to work, eat, and sleep in the boathouse. It was the only way to get the work done and guarantee secrecy. I wasn’t looking forward to three weeks of hard physical labour but kept that to myself. Ziegfried was doing me a great service, and I was grateful.

  He, on the other hand, grew more cheerful with every tool we rented and every piece of material we bought—mostly second-hand. Ziegfried was as passionate about working with metal as I was about the sea. The only thing that excited him more was a big sprawling junkyard, which we found outside of Naha, and where I followed him around for three hours while he talked excitedly and waved his arms at all the uniquely Japanese junk. I had to resign myself once again to being his lackey, which, after being captain of my own vessel for almost three years, was a little humbling. Ziegfried said it was good for me to be humbled from time to time. It was character building.