Far to the east, the Japanese fishermen reached the sand and hurriedly hauled their boats ashore. The night was full of charcoal clouds conquering the sky. They knew that a storm was coming, and they could not be at sea when it hit.
The old fisherman was slower than all the rest, barely reaching his seaside house before the heavens broke loose. His wife greeted him at the door and they walked into their empty home together.
The rain’s icy fingers drummed against the water. The tempest whirled and twirled, foamed and frothed. White-tipped waves struck against the three-masted ship.
Before the captain even yelled, the passengers knew they were headed to destruction.
The mother placed her baby in a wooden coffer. "Stay safe,” she whispered sadly, stroking the infant’s face and placing a silver locket with a picture of her baby’s father and herself on the little one’s lap. The mother stuffed blankets and pillows around her baby. She kissed him, then closed the chest.
The ship sank. The coffer floated.
The next morning, the old fisherman and his wife found a chest on the shore with a baby and a locket inside.
Their hearts were filled with joy.