The Harmony Silk Factory (26 page)

“What on earth is he doing?” Honey said. “Is he having a fit?”

We sat up and watched as Peter’s body became still. He crouched in the water with his head bowed. Mamoru stood up and went to help him; then Peter let out a strange squeal, standing up and running towards us as he did so. He was holding something in his hands. “The bugger’s nipped me!” he cried. It was only then that we saw he was holding a large green-black crab.

We cooked it over a slow, glowing fire that Mamoru made from coconut husks and sand. He gathered some glossy leaves from the edge of the scrubby forest behind us and placed the now reddened crab on this plate of foliage. I had not felt hungry before—the sun had dried all thoughts of food from my head—but as Mamoru divided the crab with his knife I felt my insides boil with hunger. He pulled a claw from the carapace and smashed it with the handle of his knife. With his fingertips he pulled away the broken bits of shell and handed me the glistening piece of brown-veined flesh. “Be careful,” he said as he gave it to me, “it is still very hot.”

Even though it was a large crab, there was not much meat to go round. When we tasted those little jellies of sweet white meat, we all realised we were hungrier than we thought. We took to sucking at the broken pieces of shell, which tasted of firewood and sea salt. Peter declared that he had never eaten anything as delicate and delectable.

“Ortolan pales in comparison,” he said. I was about to ask him what this was when he turned to Johnny and explained that it was a small French bird. “Like a sparrow,” he said patiently.

Only Johnny did not eat. He seemed too weak to do so. When I offered him a chunk of meat that Mamoru had prepared for me, he declined. I tried to insist that he eat, but Peter touched my arm and shook his head. He was right: Johnny seemed happier left on his own, resting against the base of the tree, set slightly apart from the rest of us.

When we finished, Honey suggested opening some tins from our rations, which are still plentiful. I looked at Peter. My hunger remained, it was true, but curiously, I did not yearn for preserved food. Now that I had eaten that crab, I wanted something similar.

“How could you even think of doing that, Honey?” Peter said. “It would be akin to raiding your larder for half a cold Scotch egg after dining on
omelette au crabe
at Boulestin. What savagery. I’d sooner starve.”

In the end we did nothing. We simply sat cross-legged around the fire, watching it die down until it was smouldering and hardly smoky. In the blue light I could see Mamoru looking at me. His face was slim and calm.

We retired to the makeshift camp beds Mamoru had prepared. Mine had been specially draped with cotton sheets, whilst the men made do with rough canvas. Mamoru came to me and said, “Don’t worry about Johnny, I will keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you,” I said, reaching to touch his shoulder in the dark.

As I fell asleep I could still taste the sweetness of the crab on my tongue. “Peter,” I called out. “I nearly forgot: thank you for our dinner.” There was no answer. He must already have fallen asleep.

 

 

THIS MORNING IT FELT as though all the things on the boat had happened a very long time ago. We breakfasted on rice (cooked, by Mamoru, in a pot over hot embers) with
ikan bilis
(which Honey declared “intolerable” before opening himself a tin of beef), jackfruit, and coarse coffee. There was much talk about whether this island was one of the Seven Maidens. In the distance, from this isolated beach, we can see two small islands, but there is no way of telling if these too are Maidens without surveying the area around these islands.

“If local
on dit
is true,” said Peter, “all we’d have to do is wait until sunset to see if they disappear.”

Mamoru and Honey went out to the boat to organise our supplies and consult their maps. They were gone for a considerable length of time, during which I remained here, writing, and Peter coaxed Johnny out onto the beach. They walked along the water’s edge, stopping now and then to dig shells and other mysterious things from the sand. They stood next to each other like two toddlers inspecting a toy. Sometimes Peter would run into the sea, throwing himself into the water when it was deep enough to swim; he exhorted Johnny to join him, but Johnny never ventured far, stopping as soon as the water reached his calves. He stood in the shallows, arms folded. Peter frequently broke into song, and every time he did so I found myself perplexed at how his voice transformed itself, suddenly acquiring a rich, silky texture. The sound it made filled the huge silence around us (there are no birds or insects here to make any noise). I began to recognise a few of the tunes he sang; one of them in particular was repeated many times. I am not sure what language it was in, but I found it surprisingly engaging. It was often accompanied by silly theatrical gestures—Peter beckoning to Johnny, who, I am sure, did not know what the song meant.

Mamoru joined me when Peter and Johnny were at the far end of the beach. “Peter and your husband are very good friends,” he said. “I think they mean a lot to each other.”

I laughed. “I had not thought of it before. It doesn’t seem to me that the two of them are capable of the emotional bonds you speak of.”

“I didn’t mean to say that they have established a spiritual rapport, or that they would remain close friends forever. I simply said that they represent something to each other.”

I looked at him. “What do you mean?”

He laughed. “I don’t know what I mean. I’m not sure. Each seems to symbolise something in the eyes of the other. I have not been able to discern the nature of these symbols. How terrible for an academic to be so vague.”

“Honestly, Mamoru,” I said, smiling at him, “I didn’t think you spent so much time observing people. Your brain must never rest.”

He dropped his head and looked at the sand. (He is so easily embarrassed.) “I don’t spend time watching people,” he said, as if he had made a mistake and was apologising for it. “I do think about things, of course, but that is after all what my profession demands of me.”

“I was only teasing,” I said. I wanted to touch him, to assure him I meant no offence, but I did not; I was not sure it was the right thing to do. He sat up and looked out at the beach. No one was in sight. He took my hand and placed it against his cheek. “You are allowed to tease me as much as you like,” he said.

Later in the day we remembered something important. Mamoru noticed the tide coming in and gathered us all together. We gazed out at the islands. The copper-coloured water glowed uncertainly around them. “They’ve
got
to be Maidens,” Peter said softly. “Come on,
disappear.
”

But they did not. The sun had dipped below the horizon but the islands were still there.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Peter said. Mamoru agreed, saying again that we needed to survey the area.

We trudged back to our little camp under the tree and set about preparing supper. I helped Mamoru collect broken coconut husks and small pieces of wood. No one spoke. We settled down with our tins around the hesitant fire. The last of the purple light stained the sky. I allowed myself a final look at the two small islands.

“Look,” I whispered.

In the glowing twilight only one island remained. The other, which previously sat immovably beside it, had vanished into the sea. In its place there was only twilight sky. It was as if it had never existed.

There is only one other thing I need to say (the fire is nearly out): at last I can believe we are truly alive.

WE SAILED AROUND THE ISLANDS in waters smoother than glass. Peter’s voice filled the space around us with song. It seemed to echo in the windless sky; each note hung in the air for a very long time, playing in my ears whilst the next note danced over it. Sometimes (as when Peter sang that song which seems to be his favourite) I could not understand any of the words. The notes seemed to weave in and out of one another, no longer discernible, like a length of shot silk held up close to your eyes. It made me smile. I looked at Mamoru; his hands steered the boat with the lightest of touches, his eyes were clear and very bright.

I sat with Peter and Johnny as we went past each of the islands. Earlier that morning we had made the decision to pack our things and set off exploring the islands. Mamoru was hopeful our reconnaissance would unearth a site suitable for a permanent camp. Although they varied in size—some were little more than large boulders whilst others seemed to stretch for miles—the coastlines of the islands were similar: rocky barriers punctuated by sandy coves. Behind them, small coconut trees rose from the low, scrubby forests, their trunks dried bone-white by the salty air.

“How will we know which one to stop at?” I said to Peter. “They all look the same.”

“It’ll announce itself to us, my dear, it’ll announce itself,” he replied.

By midday, however, we had still seen only six islands, and none of them seemed very special. Not one showed any signs of life. Not a single bird hovered over the trees; the forests looked dry and fruitless. “Aren’t the Seven Maidens renowned for their flora and fauna?” I asked Peter.

“That’s what people say, yes.”

“There doesn’t appear to be any.”

“How can you tell? That rather unpromising façade may disguise an entire universe of riches.”

“Or it may be even more barren than it appears.”

Mamoru and Honey were deep in discussion, examining one of Mamoru’s maps.

“The Seventh Maiden isn’t where it should be,” I overheard Mamoru say.

“I don’t understand,” Honey said, his voice lowered. “You said these maps were a hundred percent accurate.”

“They are. Something is not right.”

“Maybe we’re not looking in the right place, or we’re overlooking something? Perhaps the Seventh disappears with the tide too?”

“The Seventh is the largest by far. It is low tide for these islands—it shall not be high tide until dark. If it is here, we will find it. Let’s retrace our steps.”

The boat began to sweep round in a broad arc until we faced the direction from which we had begun. In truth, we had sailed around these islands for so long now that the sea and the position of those barren outcrops began to appear confusing. Yet we kept up the pretence of being alert, scanning the horizon for some clue we may have missed before.

“Do you know what we’re looking for?” I asked Peter.

He had his hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun. “My dear, I haven’t a clue. I’ve been lost all my life.”

Johnny said, “There’s going to be a storm.”

“You silly monkey,” Peter said, laughing. “There isn’t a cloud in the sky.”

Johnny shrugged his shoulders and said, “I can smell it.”

Mamoru left Honey to steer and came to consult Johnny. “Are you certain?” he said, unsure of whether to dismiss Johnny’s words as mere speculation.

Again Johnny shrugged. “I think so. Not a long storm, but a sharp one.”

Mamoru nodded and rejoined Honey at the wheel. They spoke for a while and consulted the map again.

“You’re right, Johnny,” said Peter, “the air does smell different.”

It was then that we noticed it, moving like a shadow over the water in the distance. A single black cloud, heavy with rain, scattering shapes across the surface of the sea. From afar it looked as if the green waters had turned grey under this darkened umbrella. It grew larger as it moved towards us, and soon we could see how quickly it was travelling. “Christ almighty,” Peter breathed. Underneath the cloud the water was flecked white with the foam of waves; yet just beyond the circle of the cloud’s shadow the sea was as calm and green as it was under our boat. It was as if a neat circle had been drawn around those waves, herding them tightly like wild animals.

“Life jackets!” Peter cried.

Johnny remained sitting impassively on a bench, his body slumped against the shack. “There are none,” he said indifferently.

Mamoru said, “Hold on tightly to something. Everything will be fine. The storm will pass.” His voice was calm and steady. He came to me and held my hand. We were standing near Johnny. I did not draw away. “Stay close to me,” he said. “I will be steering the boat. No harm will come to you.”

Peter bumped into me as I tried to follow Mamoru. He looked at me with a wild-eyed expression.

The storm hit us before Mamoru was able to return properly to the helm. I had not even reached the shack. It was as if the storm cloud had sped up, travelling more swiftly than before in order to catch us off-guard. As I fell I saw that Mamoru, too, had lost his balance. He was thrown off his feet; his back smashed into the side of the shack as the boat rocked with the force of the first wave. In a second the air passed from being dry and salty to moist with rain; a moment later I felt as if I were breathing water. A wall of rain crashed down upon us as we gasped in vain for air. I tried to keep my eyes open, but the force of the rain was so great that I could see only blurred shapes through my half-closed eyes. The boat suddenly felt small and very light. The waves threw it clean into the air and dragged it down again. Where was Mamoru? I thought I saw him haul himself to his feet and stagger to the helm. No other man in the world had the strength to do that.

I had never before known the meaning of the expression “with all my life,” not truly, but in those few moments I did. I clung to the wooden rail on the side of the boat
with all my life.
I wanted to say “sorry” to Johnny
with all my life,
“sorry I made you love me.” And with all my life I wanted to see Mamoru again.

I fell into the sea as I knew I would. I had been stupid to believe I could resist its force. Still I kicked against it. The warm foamy wash swept into my mouth, my eyes, my nose and lungs, but I kicked some more. I felt my limbs begin to tire from the struggle. Where were the others? I had not seen any of them. I thought of surrendering, but my stiffening legs continued to kick as if obeying a will greater than my own.