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I couldn’t remove his bloodstains on the orlop deck, finally.
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Hey, the Obra Dinn. You don't want to forget his end, do you? Oh, I'm sure you will carry this fearful, horrible, and sorrowful memory with you until the day this voyage comes to an end.
On the orlop deck, under the stairs on the bow side. I think of something uncharacteristically poetic. It’s supposed to be a leisurely, if not elegant, voyage across the ocean, but now the inside of this ship is very stifling. It's as if all of the wind around us is trying to crush us, all of the sea that spreads out beneath our feet is trying to swallow us, and everything that belongs to this sea is looking at us as we are sinners.
My friend was dead. My wish was not answered, and the blade I wielded was useless. The feeling of the sword that stabbed the monster is strangely ingrained in my hand. Normally, I should be dreaming about my friend I couldn't protect, about his heroically and horrible end, over and over again. But strangely enough, what I can't stop thinking about now is another day.
The day when we found out that the second mate, who I had looked up to was a bloody idiot, the day when that disgusting monsters came on board, and the day when several people lost their lives over that monster.
As the monster was being carried away, I watched the seamen at work. I took a position right in front of the stairs and put my hands on the handrail, thinking that the monster was heavier than it looks. In theory, I thought that as a future mate, I should learn what it was like to be a seaman’s work, but to tell the truth, it was my curiosity got the better of fear. The incident happened when the chef approached and talked to them in his usual manner, perhaps to try to relieve the tension.
The monster retaliated for chef's words by striking him. It flailed like a freshly caught fish. The gurney slipped from the hands of a seaman, and despite the desperate efforts of those around him, it crushed the skull of another seaman who was in charge of the forward section.
I’m sure it was not an uncommon accident. In fact, there had been one accident on this ship where a piece of luggage fell and killed a seaman. I'm sure it's not something I should be thinking about. At the risk of sounding cruel, I’m not his friends or family. But for some reason, like a little fish bone, it stuck with me and I couldn't forget it.
It was only now that I realized what “the little fish bone” was.
It wasn't a fish bone at all. It was a blade that could tear my heart out, and at the same time, it was a sword that could judge me.
Yes, "a LITTLE bone"! It was "a little fish bone", for ME!
I’m sinful. The seaman had a family and friends. He had a seaman who were grieving in front of his dead body. He was not “a seaman”. He was not “an Indian”. He was a human, just like us. But I … I, I…
I did not try to help him at all.
I clearly remember thinking in a corner of my mind that if the monster got out of control, it would be terrible. But I didn't do anything. For example (It's just not possible.), if it had been Tom or Charlie, or my boss, or any of the passengers, who were carrying the monster, I would have tried to help in some way. Or I might have said nothing and looked for ways to help myself. On my honour, I can say that if the incident had happened to them, I would have been the first to move to help. But actually, that was not. Because the seaman was different from us in position, birth and status. For me, he was a man who lived in a different world, so to speak. I could say that it was like watching a character on a stage.
No, it's not. NO! Do I still pretend to be a good boy!?
Didn't I think at the time that…? He was just a seaman. We could replace him as many times as we like. In addition, I might have even thought that as long as I could see something interesting, that was all that mattered.
Oh, God! How mean I am!!
Charlie's death is my punishment for disrespecting the life of a fellow seafarer. I abandoned the seaman, so God, in retribution, abandoned my wish. If I had only … reached out at that time, if I had had a noble spirit! Charlie might … have saved from dying.
I want to cry out loud. But that isn't possible, so I whisper "Please, forgive me". I know it’s meaningless. The people to whom those words should be directed have already left this world.
Yes, yes, I know. It's easy to say in words. Now it's my turn. Charlie has shown me what I have to do. This time, this time, I'm going to show it. I'm going to protect this ship. I will fight not only for friendship, duty or recognition, but for everyone on board. That's the only way I'll be allowed to redeem myself from my sin.
“Pete, what are you doing right in front of the stairs? Sir Martin Perrott is calling you.”
I hear Tom’s voice. I close my eyes, bring my mind back to reality, and turn on my heel.
“Yeah, I'm coming.”
Fin.