OCR Text |
Show 23 The engine coughed and sputtered. Furukawa ran about, rapping a spot here and another there, but to no avail. It heaved a couple of times; then with an apologetic sigh went dead. "Oh dear," said Louisa. Phyllis looked at the surging, darkening sea, and at the cliffs. "Not a cheerful stop." "Furukawa-san," Hal Parker called, "nan das' ka?" "Shiran' kerio." "Reassuring," said Phyllis. "Wonder how long I'll hang onto supper." For with the death of the engine the boat floated helplessly, and took on a strong, rocking, sideways motion. Furukawa tested the machinery, keeping time with a popping run of Japanese. Most of the officers could follow tha standard dialect, but his Osaka accent confused them, and they called on Yosh Asano to translate. "Some sort of valve," he said. "Sticks and blocks the steam-line." "Why does it stick?" Another exchange of words; then: "A plastic developed during the war. Crystallized; should be brass." "Why isn't it brass?" "He asked tha dockyard; thay put in an order - but it disappeared." A familiar story in postwar Japan; metal and building materials seldom reached the railhead; if the brass had reached Oji it had travelled far. |