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forgotten to look for the pygmy seahorse, the reason we
are diving the cove under such testy conditions. Our
exit isn’t graceful. Before we even catch our breath and
sort through the strewn gear, Kotaro is on his phone
scheduling a boat for the afternoon.
Although choppy, the seas in the lee of the island
are manageable aboard the traditional Japanese
fishing vessel Kotaro arranged. The captain drops us
on an underwater arch loaded with fish — including
dragon morays, we’ve been told. I’ve always wanted to
see one. Who wouldn’t? They’re one of the flashiest
eels in the sea; each wears a personalized coat of
cartoon colors.
Dragon morays prefer chilly water, and I don’t. That’s
why I have yet to see one. My gauge reads 68°F, but I’m
not complaining. I’m handling the temperature fine in
a 5mm wetsuit and vest. And besides, who has time
to be cold? In the distance I see a male fairy wrasse
showing off for his harem, and I’m after him. I slow
down a short distance away to consider my options. In
a minute I’m onto the Romeo’s routine, and I position
myself near a group of his egg-laden females. Sure
enough, he sails close in a blaze of color, circles twice
and streaks away. My eye is still following him off
in the distance when Anna comes flying up, waving
wildly. I follow her yellow frog-kicking fins to my first
dragon moray. It’s a beauty.
During the night the typhoon takes a promising turn
to the west. The wind is still gusty, but the sky breaks
blue, giving us the confidence to sneak back around
the island to look for the seahorse. This time we’re
diving from the boat. I choose a secluded section of
the wall and begin what I intend to be a disciplined
search. I would not make a good soldier: Within
minutes an unfamiliar brown speck of fish peeking
out from a crack catches my attention. Squinting, I
lean closer and spook the fish back into the shadows.
It takes some time to get a clear view of a green-eyed
goby accessorized with oversized fins. By the time I
remember my mission I’m 50 minutes into the dive. I
cast a guilty glance over my shoulder. Not far away the
others remain on task, methodically scouring the wall
for the fabled seahorse.
During the night the storm spirals back in our
direction, prompting an early morning powwow.
Weighing options, we decide to cut our Hachijo-jima
stay short and set off for the airport to reschedule
flights. With clerical matters settled, we make a latemorning
dive in the harbor and then venture offshore
in the afternoon for a final dive on a deepwater slope
that connects to a shallow-topped seamount.
We make our drop beneath a blanket of black clouds.
Eighty feet below it is as dark as night. Instinctively,
everyone moves up the incline in search of light until
we find ourselves hunkered down inside a gully on a
30-foot-deep tabletop. “A disappointing last dive on
Hachijo-jima,” I’m thinking at the very instant I see
Kotaro lurch back from the wall with both arms flung to
the side. Suddenly there is no typhoon brewing, no early
departure, no swells and no dreary sky. In their place is
a finely cut, wafer-thin seahorse no bigger than a button
bathed in the beam of Kotaro’s hand light. AD
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