“Because then Yotsuda-san maybe not work so well.” Mr. Yasuda smiled. “So I do not translate what Reynolds-sensei say; I translate what he mean.”
“Oh.” I thought this over for a moment. “Mr. Yasuda—the boat—it’s still to be fifty feet long, isn’t it?”
“Of course!” said Mr. Yasuda, shocked. “Everything just like you say in contract!”
The second flaw in the contract was a very simple one. The time stipulated for the completion of the job, to be started in December, 1952, was June 15. The contract merely neglected to mention which June 15.
In any event, having made the down payment, as per contract, so Yotsuda-san could begin to buy the materials, I retired to the bosom of my family for Christmas. Perhaps there was something in the gifts I had shopped for so lovingly—heavy brass ship’s candlesticks mounted in gimbals, a ship’s bell with a truly mellow tone, a bright orange life jacket for each member of the family—that made the kids realize that, although this boat might be another of daddy’s whims, it was a whim that was going to affect them directly. They began to take a mild interest in the project and to look at my plans with more respect. Jessica, in particular, asked to be shown her place in the boat, and wanted it distinctly understood that she would have no part in it unless room was made for all her dolls. This was managed by simply labeling one locker in the plans, “Jessica’s Dolls.”
Shortly after New Year’s Day I returned to the shipyard, eagerly expectant. I looked forward to seeing the piles of lumber, redolent with promise. Perhaps the keel had already been laid. At least the lines of the boat would have been laid down, full size, as directed.
I was alone this trip, so as I trudged the muddy road from the station to the boatyard, I went over my meager Japanese vocabulary. But after all, I wanted only to look at the progress of the work, and surely no technical problems would come up this soon.
None did, for when I arrived I found the shop, in its original condition, together with Mr. Yotsuda, in his original condition, and nothing else. At a disadvantage, I began a conversation in my best pidgin Japanese.
“Ohio gosaimasu—Good morning,” I said, as an opening gambit.
Mr. Yotsuda bowed. “Ohio gosaimasu. Shinen omedeto gosaimasu!” This meant not only good morning but also Happy New Year, which put him one up.