Three days after the Hakko Maru returned to her original position and the missing boat came back. Everyone on board was safe and sound.
Because of the storm they had lost control of their boat. They were more helpless than babes strung up by the neck. They were all prepared for death. Fishermen must always be ready for death.
Their boat had been washed up on the coast of Kamchatka, and they were rescued by some Russians living near. The Russians were a family of four. Thirsty as they were for a “home” with women and children in it, this place held an indescribable attraction for the sailors. Added to that everyone was kind, offering all kinds of help. Still, at first the fact that their rescuers were foreigners, with different coloured hair and eyes, using incomprehensible words, made the sailors feel rather strange. The thought soon occurred to them, however, that after all these were just human beings like themselves.
Hearing of the wreck, many people from the village gathered. The place was a long way off from the Japanese fishing waters.
They stayed there two days recovering and then started back. “We didn’t want to come back; who would, to a hell like this?”
Their story didn’t end there. There was another interesting thing which they were hiding.
It happened just on the day they were to leave. As they were standing round the stove, putting on their clothes and talking, four or five Russians entered, and with them was one Chinese. One
