“Assuming you mean somebody good with judo? Yes.”
“That ain’t the only thing some people might be good with. Not saying anything more till we get ashore to deliver.”
The restrictions of open radio, even on their privately arranged frequency, kept Hank from questioning him more. He hoped that Seth and Kodama had merely locked horns again.
A few days later, Jody spoke to him from Kodiak. Her tone troubled Hank at once. “Last night Seth brought the ship in town to deliver. He has something on his mind.”
Hank tried to sound casual. “More than on his mind, I guess, if Kodama gave him a judo lesson.”
“Well, I wish it was a joke. There’s a tender coming out there this afternoon.” She named its skipper, an old friend. “He’s agreed to put me on the factory ship you’re delivering to if they can’t find your boat.”
Hank tried to dissuade her because of the rough water. “If Seth and somebody had a tiff, let’s just talk about it, and if anybody overhears that’s tough.” But the thought of seeing Jody . . . And when did Jody mind rough water?
The tender delivered her to the side of the Jody Dawn. The rails of the two boats, riding different parts of the same surge, rose and fell in opposing directions. Hank called for Jody to stay while he negotiated the rails to join her on the tender, but instead she took a bold leap and landed in his arms laughing. Hank hugged her with relief while the men on both vessels, standing by, cheered.
Terry called from the wheelhouse. “Boss, the captain of the Maru we deliver to just called on radio. Said something like, ‘Captain and Madam Captain please do honor come to dinner.’ That’s the funny way he said it. I guess they were watching just now when Jody jumped aboard.”
Hank turned to Jody. “Probably serve us fancy Japanese food. When they do hospitality they really do it. Put you in a float suit for the trip over.” She shook her head so firmly that he called back to Terry. “Say thanks and some other time. Say weather’s too rough and Madam Captain’s tired.”
Soon after, Terry reported that the captain said they’d lift madam in a basket very safely. Hank called up another refusal.
In his cabin, while she dried off, Jody came to the point at once. “Seth’s found out something beyond what he thinks he can handle.” He had followed Hank’s advice from Baltimore to check everything, and had begun to watch Kodama’s catch reports. He’d enlisted Mo, who as deck boss was on site most of the time, and they took turns secretly counting every fish that came aboard. Kodama’s log at the end of the day came short of their count by more than three hundred fish. The next day it was the same. Seth then slipped into the freezer, and counted the fish tray by tray. There were at least five thousand pounds of fish more than the catch log showed. “Did you ever do that kind of checking, Hank?”
Hank forced himself to remain calm. “I never needed to. There’s been some mistake.”
“Seth then confronted Kodama. Your Japanese friend pretended not to understand English all of a sudden.”
“He got flustered. You know how Seth can come at you.”
“Listen to me, Hank. Your friend finally broke down and started beating himself on the head. Then, Seth said, he began to wail and grind his teeth like one of those Kabuki actors you’ve told me about. Seth said that for a minute he was scared for his own safety. You know that’s not like Seth.”
Hank turned away. Swede’s warning! He should have pursued doubts of Kodama himself. “Sonofabitch! Where’s Kodama now?”
“Still shut in his cabin when I left. After Seth told me all this I went down to talk to him, although I had no idea what I’d say. If he’s been cheating you all this time, what could I say? But not even a sound when I spoke and knocked on the door.”
Seth had read of disgraced Japanese committing hari-kiri, so they decided finally to break the lock. Kodama was sitting motionless with his head in his hands.
Hank sat on the bunk and rubbed his own head. “I brought him over as my friend. I trusted him. He’d look me in the eye.” He felt desolate, but tried to think it through. “Kodama wouldn’t have done it alone.”
“I don’t think so either.”
“Two months ago in Anchorage old man Tsurifune looked at me straight and said they had no part in the cheating I’d heard about. I trusted him. I’ve thought they were all good people. I’ve defended them. Bastards!”
Jody’s hand kneaded his tense shoulder. “I know, I know.”
“What am I going to do? They have me.”
Jody sat beside him. Neither spoke for a while.
“If he’s doing this to me he’s doing it all over. He’s screwing Tolly. And both our crews. He’s trying to screw all the Americans trying to fish quota—Gus, everybody. Now that I know, I’m part of it.”
“I think we both know what you have to do, Hank.”
“If I blow the whistle on Tsurifune . . . That could mean the end of owning Puale Bay . . . or any other big longliner in the future. And he still has my Jody Dawn that we’re aboard right here. Look, now I think about it, there’s probably some mistake. Seth’s a damn hothead.”
Jody said nothing.
“Where could I ever find money somewhere else to buy back my Jody Dawn? At best I haven’t paid off half to the bank, since we had only two good crab years before crab went bust.”
At last she said quietly, “We’ll have to manage.”
“Oh, shit.”
Terry knocked on the door. “That tug they call a Kawasaki boat that takes our fish to the Maru? It’s just come over. The guy aboard, I think he’s the first mate, says it’s urgent you come over, Boss.”
Hank started out. “I’ll tell the guy to go to hell myself. I’m not talking to any damn Japs tonight.”
Jody restrained him. “See what they have to say.”
Hank slipped into float coveralls for the ride over. He said nothing to the mate beyond an acknowledgment. At the high hull of the ship he refused the lowered basket in favor of a jump to the Jacob’s ladder and a long climb. The captain stood on deck with a smiling bow. He expressed sorrow that madam could not come, and asked Hank please to come to the wardroom for friendly dinner.
Hank knew that he was breaking all rules of Japanese etiquette, but he said curtly, “No dinner, no beer, no sake. Just tell me what’s urgent, please.”
The captain led the way to the ship’s radio room, and snapped a command to the man on duty. The radioman immediately punched signals, spoke in Japanese, then handed Hank a phone. “Special new technology,” said the captain, and pulled out a chair for Hank. “Japan. Special secure call, all private. You shall hear Director Tsurifune in self, perhaps! Please.” He waved the radioman out of the room and left himself.
Instead, it was the smooth voice of Tsurifune the younger. “Hank! How are you? Is it raining? Rough weather there, eh?”
“What’s up, Mike? Let’s get to the point.”
“Well then, Hank. Father and I have heard disturbing news. It probably comes with having subordinate O’Malley in charge of your vessel. The man seems to have a strange notion. You and I can have a chuckle over this once it’s explained.”
“Explain it, then.”
“This subordinate has a fantasy, that our man Kodama was not reporting all fish that came aboard. This is of course a distressing accusation.”
“Cut the bullshit, Mike. We caught you underlogging, and cheating us.”
There was enough of a pause that Hank thought they had been disconnected. “Well now, Hank. If there was any misunderstanding, we’ll certainly make it up to you. After all, friends stick together. In order to keep everybody happy, Father and I’ve instructed our man Kodama to return home to enjoy his family for a while. Coming to replace is an excellent production master, Mr. Hoshi Tamukai, former high-seas fisherman, very honest and capable. If this Kodama has made error, we surely regret and will see that you don’t lose by it. So let’s just have a friendly laugh over misunderstanding, and keep producing.”
T
he radio room was hot. Hank still wore his float coveralls. He stood and peeled down the thick arms while collecting his thoughts. Buy the lie? he debated with himself. Because lie it was, he was now certain.
“Are you still there, Hank?”
“Just wondering, Mike, what threat you or your dad made to poor Kodama, to force a man with that much honor to cheat. We have proof he cheated, and I’m convinced he didn’t do it on his own. And if—”
“All right, Hank. We’ll make you glad that you’ve forgotten this foolishness. To apologize for misunderstanding among friends—friends who take care of each other, Hank—we’ll be foolishly generous and credit you double profit for all sablefish since you began to fish for us and until the debt on your vessel Jody Dawn is paid.”
“And if you’re doing it to me, you’re cheating every other American you’ve made deals with, and by default other American fishermen out there competing against you.”
“Did you hear me, Hank? Double profit. And, Father will question my generosity, but . . . forty thousand dollars more against your debt to us, registered at once to our Seattle bank. I think we shall also give your overzealous subordinate O’Malley, say, five thousand dollars cash to help him realize the mistake he’s made. You have a great future with us, Hank. Produce well, and one day you’ll own longline vessel Puale Bay, then another, then vessels vessels and be rich!”
Hank was sweating. He mopped his sleeve over his face again and again.
“As long as we’re having a laugh over it, Hank, let me outline what would happen if Father suddenly decided that you were a poor producer and not a friend. Our bank would be forced to call in everything. For the sake of argument, let’s consider your vessel Jody Dawn. The shipyard price was what? One million five hundred ninety dollars I believe. Through hard work, which all admire, you’d paid off, say, thirty-seven, percent plus interest to the bank that loaned you the money before we assumed the loan. Since then, through earnings with us, we’ll say that you’ve paid another ten percent, give or take after accumulated interest. Do you follow, Hank?”
“I follow.”
“Unfortunately, since the collapse of king crab, and consider also aging, this vessel is no longer worth as much as your bank paid for it. Many such vessels are rusting idle and worthless. If we were forced to foreclose and auction the vessel, it would go for less. Let’s be optimistic and say that with good luck we’d realize one million one hundred thousand. Our fifty-three percent ownership would still come from purchase price on which we assumed the loan, not auction price. Let me calculate here. We’d need to claim eight hundred forty-three thousand, plus a few more for interest, leaving you about two hundred fifty thousand of the nearly seven hundred fifty you’ve invested. Enough still to buy a nice, little boat, I expect.”
Hank closed his eyes and swayed in the heat.
“But, suppose the vessel brought merely nine hundred thousand at auction—disaster! Then you would only receive back, oh dear, let me check that again to make sure. Yes, you’d receive back only fifty-eight thousand dollars, at personal loss to you—let’s not even talk about it please, too distressing. All those years of work. Surely not enough to buy a new vessel much beyond a rowboat, eh? And remember, it might take a year or two even to reach auction before you received a penny, while meantime you’d have no vessel to earn with. And then there’s your home, your castle, as Americans like to put it.”
“Wait! Our agreement took my house off the table.”
“A gentleman’s agreement among friends until signed by both parties. But when friends are no longer friends . . .”
“Your father had that lawyer Rider draw up a changed contract!”
“And he did. But when did you sign it? You had so many changes and questions on the copy we sent, that some lawyer of yours returned it. Such changes have taken long long to consider.”
“Now I see that you wrote it wrong the first time on purpose.”
After a pause Mike said, “Well, Hank, we’re only being theoretical, so let’s stop. Have a good night’s sleep, and keep producing. It will all be fine among friends. Father sends cordial wishes, and looks forward to the occasion soon when we’ll bring you back to Japan, perhaps with your beautiful wife.”
When Hank emerged from the radio room where the captain had left him alone, the captain offered him warm sake and he accepted it. He allowed himself to be returned to the Kawasaki boat by basket, and jumped clumsily rail to rail back on his own boat. Back in the cabin he told Jody about the house, and wept on her lap. She patted his head.
By next morning he had pulled himself outwardly together. But he snapped and was irritable all day. When one of the tow lines tangled, he started berating Tom and Jace in the worst fashion of a screaming skipper. Tom looked up, startled. Jace scowled, and muttered that he knew the sort. The tender was to pick Jody back up late in the day. She watched Hank, worried, and wondered if she should go. They were eating glumly in the galley, when Terry on watch called down.
“Look astern, Boss. Skipper Lars radioed over, and so did Skipper Gus. Think you’d better look.”
Hank hurried to the wheelhouse. Layers of haze hung around the mainland peaks to starboard and had obliterated the lower Kodiak hills to port. The thickest haze moved slowly upward. He checked his barometer. It fell as he watched. Nothing in the morning forecast had predicted different weather. But such wind as now breezed outside had altered direction. A change was in motion. “We’re hauling in,” he barked over the speaker. Tom was the first to reach deck and had begun to undog the windlass by the time that the others appeared.
Hank radioed his partners. “Yah,” said Lars, “that kind of fog here means maybe going to blow norderly. Rain for sure. But she’s below freezing. If it’s snow ve got no problem. Anyhow, I think I haul in too. See what happens.” Joe Eberhardt said he was doing the same.
“I know the signs,” said Gus when Hank called him. “It’s ice coming sure. We’ve chopped lines and we’re heading for a lee. Geographic Bay’s best shelter but too far away unless she holds off. Take care yourself, Hank.”
The tender that was to have picked up Jody was now delivering supplies miles from the Jody Dawn, and the captain decided to race for shelter while he could. “Sorry,” he radioed. Jody sent an apologetic message via the cannery office to the friend who had picked up the kids from school, supposedly for just dinner with her own children. Then she went below to fix a meal before the storm broke, since Ham the cook would be staying busy on deck.
For days the wind and waves had come from the southern end of Shelikof Strait, where the sun still shone through a clear sky. Within an hour the wind shifted to blow nearly a reverse course. Gray clouds black in their deepest part moved from the north, covering everything in their wake. They slowly obliterated the highest of the snow peaks, although those to the south still glowed. The wind increased with the same dark thrust. It had raced around the compass blowing harder by the minute. The water began to build in long swells.
Hank had set his tow heading into then-prevailing wind and current. He now was committed to the same direction for haul-in while the altered forces pushed him from behind. The newly rising swells built higher, glistening dark green in the center. They chased the boat, surged up the stern ramp, splashed in the air, and blew over the men.
“Area Four-B,” came a voice on the emergency channel. “Northwest gale warning from west sides Afognak and Kodiak Islands to the Shumagins including entire Shelikof Strait. Freezing winds predicted up to fifty knots. Small vessel alert. Icing may occur. It is recommended that all vessels in Shelikof Strait move to shelter.”
“Fuckin’ late warning,” said Joe Eberhardt over the CB. “She’s on us.”
Waves suddenly started to race down the strait. Their tops dissolved into foam that blew off in strips of scud. A discharge of dead fish from the Japanese mother ship, which had floated away from them an hour before, now overtook them like a wall and started to wash up the ramp onto deck. Tom an
d Jace shoveled them back over the rail. Some of the fish hovered in the air and then blew back to deck. Hank saw in a glance that Tom managed two shovelfuls to the sobered drunk’s one although the latter kept at it with an even pace.
Terry shouted up the cable markings as the warps wound in. He raised his face and the wind blew away his cap. The Jody Dawn still had a quarter mile of gear in the water. Hank altered course as much as he dared toward the mainland, but other boats were also hauling in while trying to do the same. Tangled lines would bind them all. Since wind and sea built in the same direction, however, the twin forces on boats with a tow pushed them down the waterway in a collective line.
A massive gust of spray plumed up the ramp. It dispersed against the cabin with a tinkle. “Oh shit, she’s cornin’ ice,” said a radio voice. As Hank watched, small crystals began to join in midair and hit the cabin. A shaft of sun sparkled the ice into rainbow colors. The rigging began to thicken, then the rails. Back on deck Ham slid, fell, and scrambled back up. “Watch your footing!” Hank shouted needlessly into the speaker. All the men now gripped handholds as they moved. Using gaffs as clubs they hit at the ice. Shards blew free from the wires. Some pieces scattered to sea, but others attached to the boat elsewhere.
At last the trawl doors surfaced and each bumped up the hull to its side of the boat. Ham and Tom skidded over deck to secure the one, and Terry with Jace the other. Spray lodged and glistened thickly on the flat metal and its chains even as they worked.
Their fat bag of fish now floated astern. As soon as it hit air the meshes began to whiten. “Terry!” Hank called over the speaker. “Attach a marker buoy if you can, but send it free. Now!” Terry waved assent. Soon Ham and Tom were sliding aft, each holding a buoy. Tom lashed one buoy to the bag’s ground line. Ham threw the other, attached to an anchor, into the mesh. When they unshackled the bag it floated free. Dead gutted fish washed around it and froze to the sides. Quickly the part of the bag above surface became a white glazed hump.
Raiders Page 40
