“No—better make it Chief Bosun’s Mate,” I hastily amended.
“Ah, taihen ii desu—Very good!” approved Takemura when Nick translated. The title was duly brushed in, in beautiful Japanese ideographs.
I was getting warmer now. “And on this badge—” taking up Ted’s—“write Assistant Navigator, and on Jessica-san’s badge write Cabin Girl.” This was done, and Nick, who had been officially signed on, was given the title of second mate. Then there was a pause, and I could sense some sort of crisis.
“Reynolds-san, your badge. Takemura-san asks what to write.”
“Why, Captain, I should think. Unless you want something fancier?”
“Captain. Ah so desuka!” Takemura sucked air and bowed very low. All at once I got it.
“Yes,” I repeated firmly, “Captain. And on your badge write First Mate or Navigator in Chief—or both. Just as you please.”
The last two titles were recorded in a rather tense silence. I realized for the first time that Takemura had coveted the senior title and that this entire build-up may have been designed solely to establish that one point. Well, it’s been established, I thought. It’s settled, once and for all. As I discovered later, it settled something, all right, but not what I expected.
By dawn a crowd had begun to arrive, and we shared breakfast coffee with a dozen early well-wishers. The family came soon after, driven out in a truck along with the housegirls, the sewing girl, the gardener, and any number of large paper fish (for flying on high during Boys’ Day), ceremonial rice cakes, and various bottles of sake which had been dropped off at the house during the preceding evening. The most appreciated present, bar none, was the three-colored kitten which Jessica was clutching tightly in her arms.
“Miss Uchida says a three-colored cat is lucky on a boat,” Jessica announced. “Its name is spelled m-i-k-e—Mee-kay, not Mike—and that means three-colored, and it will catch rats when it gets big.”