During most of 2001 I was working as waiter on a Mississippi-style stern-wheeler named “Michigan”; located on Lake Biwa, Otsu City, Shiga Prefecture, Japan. This was my first time in Japan, and I along with the sixteen other people in my group were taking classes and working as on the boat as a part of an exchange program (named “The Japan Adventure Program”). Our duties there consisted of waiting tables, cleaning up, selling trinkets, and posing with old ladies for pictures—kind of like the costumed characters in Disneyland do. The boat would do four cruises per day, each around 90 minutes long, and then return back to port to unload the passengers. During most evenings the Michigan would depart on an extra two-hour “showboat” dinner cruise. Each of the students on the program were scheduled to work at least a few showboats every month.

One fall evening myself, along with two other students, were scheduled to work showboat. The cruise left the dock, we served dinner, and everything proceeded as normal. We were working on cleaning up the tables when the announcement for “showtime” (where the boat’s band would put on a live performance on the top deck) was made over the loudspeakers. All of the passengers left for the top deck and we were left alone with the rest of the staff, picking up dishes. Once we finished up in the dining area I stepped outside towards the rear decks to rest for a minute and get some fresh air.

There I was, listening to the sounds of “Country Road” coming from the top decks, peering over the edge of the railing, watching the city lights appear closer as we approached the shoreline. There was about ten minutes left until we docked up, and I‘d have to begin preparing for the unloading of passengers soon. Almost all of the them were up watching the show. Most of the crew was busy inside the boat, cleaning up and finishing landing preparations. As I was standing at the railing I noticed some passengers over to the side of me talking hurriedly and pointing over the side of the ship—past the churning steam-wheel and towards the blackness of the water in our wake.

My Japanese language ability was still quite lacking at the time but I was able to discern some conversation concerning a man in the water. The few passengers that were on deck started shouting and gesturing over and over towards the stern. One of them ran off back to the restaurant. I looked over and nothing. There were no sounds to be heard besides the movement of the wheel and the music from above. I followed the passenger quickly back to the restaurant.

I quickly gathered that a man had fallen overboard, hitting the large, spinning wheel. Nobody had seen him in the act supposedly, but a passenger spotted his body floating face-down as we continued on our way towards the dock. The information spread quickly and pretty soon the whole crew gathered near the ship’s office to hear what was happening. I ran back outside and just then the boat was put in reverse, starting slowly back towards where the body had last been seen. I started to make out the man’s white shirt. Sure enough, he was floating upside-down in the water, about 500 meters to our rear.

It was at this point that I felt I had to do something. The boat was edging backwards so slowly, it would take another ten minutes before it reached him. The wheel had been turned off and the boat was running on the water jets usually used for docking maneuvers. Most of the passengers were still watching the show up above. A few of the captains had come to the back of the ship to try and see where the boat was heading.

Can I save him? Should I jump?

I started pacing back and forth on the deck, like a dog at the edge of a swimming pool. I began formulating plans in my head as to how I could pull this off. I would have to jump off the second story of the ship into the cold water, swim the distance between us, and try to drag his body back to the ship. I knew that if I was to act that I’d have to do something quickly. It seemed like I was the only person of the possibility of rescue—everyone else was just staring out over the railing.

I continued to seriously consider jumping overboard for what seemed like a long time, although it was probably only a minute or so. Any possibility of action was put to rest when it became very clear that the man was already dead.

We came closer and closer, until the man’s body was actually lodged into the now-stopped wheel well. Two of the ship’s crew were down at water level and managed to fish the body out with a long pole. By this time showtime was ending and the rest of the passengers had come over to the rear of the ship. All watched in a hushed silence as the man’s body was recovered. There was no attempt to resuscitate.

As we reached the dock ambulances and police vehicles were already pulling up. We let the passengers off of the ship and the medical personnel came to collect the body. The two other students and I walked back to our apartments, talking about what had just happened. We were still in shock over what had just happened.

Later on I heard that some of the crew had seen the man standing by himself towards the rear of the ship, staring over the edge before the incident occurred. An apparent suicide. He probably jumped, hit the wheel, was knocked unconscious and fell in the water. I guess it really wasn’t a huge deal (to some of the others), and that it had happened before in previous years. Supposedly a student many years back actually jumped in and saved such a man, but the person had been trying to kill themselves and wasn’t very appreciative of the student’s efforts.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 7th, 2007 at 5:12 pm and is filed under Japan, Travels. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.