Snow Falling on Cedars: Chapter 27 Summary & Analysis

The snowstorm continues outside the courtroom, beating against the windows. Kabuo hasn’t been able to sense the snow from his windowless jail cell, though. In his jail cell, Kabuo thinks about the mess he’s in. He reveals that, when Nels had asked him for his side of the story months before, he lied: he failed to disclose the fact that he’d seen and helped Carl Heine the night Carl was last seen alive.

Kabuo recalls how, at first, Nels had taken Kabuo’s statement as the truth. But when he received the sheriff’s report, Nels told Kabuo that there were “a few facts [he was] concerned about.” Nels cited the evidence that the blood on the gaff matched Carl’s blood type, as well as the mooring lines found on Carl’s boat, and waited for Kabuo to come forward with the truth. Nels had told Kabuo that he couldn’t do anything for him if Kabuo continued to lie.

Kabuo recalls that Nels had returned the next day with the sheriff’s report. He told Kabuo that he could read it to know what they were up against, in order to prepare “a more defensible lie.” But, if Kabuo read the report before constructing a new story, Nels would no longer trust Kabuo—and he’d “rather it didn’t turn out that way.”

When Kabuo remained silent, Nels seemed to sense Kabuo’s motivations for silence: “You figure because you’re from Japanese folks nobody will believe you anyway.” Kabuo admitted that, yes, this was part of it. “We’re sly and treacherous,” he said. “You can’t trust a Jap, can you?” Nels reminded Kabuo that the law applies to everyone, or is supposed to, at least. He urged Kabuo to tell the truth. “The truth isn’t easy,” Kabuo replied. But he knew it had to be told.

Kabuo recalls the night of September 15: he checked his boat’s engine. He was determined to have a good night on the water. On the advice of others, he’d decided to fish at Ship Channel—there was supposed to be an abundance of fish there. Kabuo drank green tea from a thermos and listened to the other gill-netters communicating over the radio channels. He ate his dinner at dusk. The fog around him grew thicker, and he became a bit concerned. At 8:30 p.m., Kabuo idled his engine. He could hear the lighthouse station’s foghorn in the distance. He moved here and there, as he wasn’t completely sure that he was out of the shipping lane (and out of the way of the freighters that might pass through it). He turned on his mast light in attempt to increase his visibility.

Kabuo waited and listened to the radio. He heard the other gill-netters complain about the thickness of the fog. At 10:30 p.m., he checked his net and saw that there were salmon in it. He was happy about the salmon, and daydreamed about his family’s future: how they would hopefully—and soon—be able to buy back their land. Kabuo caught more fish. At 11:30 p.m., he moved west “in order to fish the tide turn,” thinking that “on the turn the salmon would pile up.” He was correct. There were few fisherman in this area, as most (as they’d discussed on the radio earlier) had turned back to Elliot Head because of the fog.

Kabuo drifted through the fog, laying on his fog horn from time to time in order to alert oncoming boats (should there happen to be any) to his presence. After Kabuo signaled half a dozen times, he heard an air horn respond to his signals. He heard a voice call out before him: “I’m dead in the water, drifting.” The voice belonged to Carl Heine. Kabuo stumbled upon Carl, “his batteries dead, adrift at midnight, in need of another man’s assistance.” Kabuo instructed Carl to tie up; he had battery power to spare. Kabuo remarked that he hoped they weren’t in the shipping lane. He saw that Carl had put up a lantern to alert other boats of his presence. “Best I could to,” responded Carl, who’d lost access to the radio transmissions when his battery died.

Kabuo told Carl he had two batteries. Carl responded that his boat ran D-8s. Kabuo’s boat ran D-6s, but Kabuo said they could make them fit. The men set to work. Kabuo hoped that Carl might want to discuss the land, even though Carl seemed as silent as ever. Kabuo reasoned that Kabuo would have to say something, given the fact that the two men were adrift together at sea, with nothing else to do.

Kabuo reflected on how long he’d known Carl. He knew that Carl avoided speaking whenever possible. Kabuo remembered, in particular, a moment from their childhood, when the two boys had sat together in a rowboat on the water after sunset. Carl had remarked on the beauty of the sunset, and Kabuo “even at twelve […] had understood that such a statement was out of character.” It was Carl’s nature, he knew even then, to keep everything bottled inside. Kabuo observes that the two men “were more similar in their deepest places than he cared to admit.”

Kabuo lifted one of his batteries from his battery well. He carried it to Carl. Carl said they could make it fit. Kabuo retrieved his gaff—they could use it to hammer the battery into place. Carl hammered the battery hold with the gaff. At one point, his hand slipped, and he cut himself. Once the battery was in place, Carl tried to start up the engine. Kabuo’s battery worked, and Carl’s boat started up successfully. Kabuo told Carl to go on fishing—he could return the battery to him in the morning.

Before Kabuo could depart, Carl brought up the subject of the seven acres. He asked Kabuo what he’d pay for them, hypothetically. Kabuo asked Carl if this hypothetical meant he’d be willing to sell the land. Carl responded, jokingly, that he might charge Kabuo a high price but that he probably shouldn’t, since then maybe Kabuo would take the battery back. Kabuo smiled, and said that the battery was already in; plus, he knows Carl would do the same for him. Carl joked that although he “might” do the same for Kabuo, he’s “not screwed together like [he] used to be.”

But Carl stopped joking and apologized for the big mess of the land, his mother, and the war: “I was out at sea, fighting you goddamn Jap sons a—” he began, in defense. But Kabuo interrupted him. “I’m an American,” he told Carl. Besides, he reminded him, Carl was of German descent. By Carl’s logic, wasn’t he a “big Nazi bastard,” himself? Carl admitted that he was a “bastard.” He told Kabuo he still had the bamboo fishing rod Kabuo had given him so many years ago, to keep safe while Kabuo was away at the internment camp. Kabuo told Carl he could keep the fishing rod. The two men settled their differences, and Carl agreed to sell Kabuo his family’s seven acres for $1,200 an acre. Carl asked for $1,000 down, and said that they could sign papers the next day. Kabuo offered $800 and agreed to their deal, and the men parted ways.