Part 4 (1/2)
I began questioning those two in my room, but,--you cannot pound out the leopard's spots no matter how you may try,--they seemed determined to push it through by an insistent declaration of ”not guilty,” that they would not confess. While this questioning was going on, the students upstairs came down, one by one, and began congregating in my room. I noticed all their eyes were swollen from want of sleep.
”Blooming nice faces you got for not sleeping only one night. And you call yourselves men! Go, wash your face and come back to hear what I've got to tell you.”
I hurled this shot at them, but none of them went to wash his face. For about one hour, I had been talking and back-talking with about fifty students when suddenly Badger put in his appearance. I heard afterward that the janitor ran to Badger for the purpose of reporting to him that there was a trouble in the school. What a weak-knee of the janitor to fetch the princ.i.p.al for so trifling an affair as this! No wonder he cannot see better times than a janitor.
The princ.i.p.al listened to my explanation, and also to brief remarks from the students. ”Attend school as usual till further notice. Hurry up with was.h.i.+ng your face and breakfast; there isn't much time left.” So the princ.i.p.al let go all the students. Decidedly slow way of handling, this.
If I were the princ.i.p.al, I would expel them right away. It is because the school accords them such luke-warm treatment that they get ”fresh”
and start ”guying” the night watch.
He said to me that it must have been trying on my nerves, and that I might be tired, and also that I need not teach that day. To this I replied:
”No, Sir, no worrying at all. Such things may happen every night, but it would not disturb me in the least as long as I breathe. I will do the teaching. If I were not able to teach on account of lack of sleep for only one single night, I would make a rebate of my salary to the school.”
I do not know how this impressed him, but he gazed at me for a while, and called my attention to the fact that my face was rather swollen.
Indeed, I felt it heavy. Besides, it itched all over. I was sure the mosquitoes must have stung me there to their hearts' content. I further added:
”My face may be swollen, but I can talk all right; so I will teach;”
thus scratching my face with some warmth. The princ.i.p.al smiled and remarked, ”Well, you have the strength.” To tell the truth, he did not intend remark to be a compliment, but, I think, a sneer.
CHAPTER V.
”Won't you go fis.h.i.+ng?” asked Red s.h.i.+rt He talks in a strangely womanish voice. One would not be able to tell whether he was a man or a woman. As a man he should talk like one. Is he not a college graduate? I can talk man-like enough, and am a graduate from a school of physics at that. It is a shame for a B.A. to have such a squeak.
I answered with the smallest enthusiasm, whereupon he further asked me an impolite question if I ever did fis.h.i.+ng. I told him not much, that I once caught three gibels when I was a boy, at a fis.h.i.+ng game pond at Koume, and that I also caught a carp about eight inches long, at a similar game at the festival of Bishamon at Kagurazaka;--the carp, just as I was coaxing it out of the water, splashed back into it, and when I think of the incident I feel mortified at the loss even now. Red s.h.i.+rt stuck out his chin and laughed ”ho, ho.” Why could he not laugh just like an ordinary person? ”Then you are not well acquainted with the spirit of the game,” he cried. ”I'll show you if you like.” He seemed highly elated.
Not for me! I take it this way that generally those who are fond of fis.h.i.+ng or shooting have cruel hearts. Otherwise, there is no reason why they could derive pleasure in murdering innocent creatures. Surely, fish and birds would prefer living to getting killed. Except those who make fis.h.i.+ng or shooting their calling, it is nonsense for those who are well off to say that they cannot sleep well unless they seek the lives of fish or birds. This was the way I looked at the question, but as he was a B. A. and would have a better command of language when it came to talking, I kept mum, knowing he would beat me in argument. Red s.h.i.+rt mistook my silence for my surrender, and began to induce me to join him right away, saying he would show me some fish and I should come with him if I was not busy, because he and Mr. Yos.h.i.+kawa were lonesome when alone. Mr. Yos.h.i.+kawa is the teacher of drawing whom I had nicknamed Clown. I don't know what's in the mind of this Clown, but he was a constant visitor at the house of Red s.h.i.+rt, and wherever he went, Clown was sure to be trailing after him. They appeared more like master and servant than two fellow teachers. As Clown used to follow Red s.h.i.+rt like a shadow, it would be natural to see them go off together now, but when those two alone would have been well off, why should they invite me,--this brusque, unaesthetic fellow,--was hard to understand.
Probably, vain of his fis.h.i.+ng ability, he desired to show his skill, but he aimed at the wrong mark, if that was his intention, as nothing of the kind would touch me. I would not be chagrined if he fishes out two or three tunnies. I am a man myself and poor though I may be in the art, I would hook something if I dropped a line. If I declined his invitation, Red s.h.i.+rt would suspect that I refused not because of my lack of interest in the game but because of my want of skill of fis.h.i.+ng. I weighed the matter thus, and accepted his invitation. After the school, I returned home and got ready, and having joined Red s.h.i.+rt and Clown at the station, we three started to the sh.o.r.e. There was only one boatman to row; the boat was long and narrow, a kind we do not have in Tokyo. I looked for fis.h.i.+ng rods but could find none.
”How can we fish without rods? How are we going to manage it?” I asked Clown and he told me with the air of a professional fisherman that no rods were needed in the deep-sea fis.h.i.+ng, but only lines. I had better not asked him if I was to be talked down in this way.
The boatman was rowing very slowly, but his skill was something wonderful. We had already come far out to sea, and on turning back, saw the sh.o.r.e minimized, fading in far distance. The five-storied paG.o.da of Tosho Temple appeared above the surrounding woods like a needle-point.
Yonder stood Aos.h.i.+ma (Blue Island). n.o.body was living on this island which a closer view showed to be covered with stones and pine trees. No wonder no one could live there. Red s.h.i.+rt was intently surveying about and praising the general view as fine. Clown also termed it ”an absolutely fine view.” I don't know whether it is so fine as to be absolute, but there was no doubt as to the exhilarating air. I realized it as the best tonic to be thus blown by the fresh sea breeze upon a wide expanse of water. I felt hungry.
”Look at that pine; its trunk is straight and spreads its top branches like an umbrella. Isn't it a Turnersque picture?” said Red s.h.i.+rt. ”Yes, just like Turner's,” responded Clown, ”Isn't the way it curves just elegant? Exactly the touch of Turner,” he added with some show of pride.
I didn't know what Turner was, but as I could get along without knowing it, I kept silent. The boat turned to the left with the island on the right. The sea was so perfectly calm as to tempt one to think he was not on the deep sea. The pleasant occasion was a credit to Red s.h.i.+rt. As I wished, if possible, to land on the island, I asked the boatman if our boat could not be made to it. Upon this Red s.h.i.+rt objected, saying that we could do so but it was not advisable to go too close the sh.o.r.e for fis.h.i.+ng. I kept still for a while. Then Clown made the unlooked-for proposal that the island be named Turner Island. ”That's good; We shall call it so hereafter,” seconded Red s.h.i.+rt. If I was included in that ”We,” it was something I least cared for. Aos.h.i.+ma was good enough for me. ”By the way, how would it look,” said Clown, ”if we place Madonna by Raphael upon that rock? It would make a fine picture.”
”Let's quit talking about Madonna, ho, ho, ho,” and Red s.h.i.+rt emitted a spooky laugh.
”That's all right. n.o.body's around,” remarked Clown as he glanced at me, and turning his face to other direction significantly, smiled devilishly. I felt sickened.
As it was none of my business whether it was a Madonna or a kodanna (young master), they let pose there any old way, but it was vulgar to feign a.s.surance that one's subject is in no danger of being understood so long as others did not know the subject. Clown claims himself as a Yedo kid. I thought that the person called Madonna was no other than a favorite geisha of Red s.h.i.+rt. I should smile at the idea of his gazing at his tootsy-wootsy standing beneath a pine tree. It would be better if Clown would make an oil painting of the scene and exhibit it for the public.
”This will be about the best place.” So saying the boatman stopped rowing the boat and dropped an anchor.
”How deep is it?” asked Red s.h.i.+rt, and was told about six fathoms.
”Hard to fish sea-breams in six fathoms,” said Red s.h.i.+rt as he dropped a line into the water. The old sport appeared to expect to fetch some bream. Bravo!
”It wouldn't be hard for you. Besides it is calm,” Clown fawningly remarked, and he too dropped a line. The line had only a tiny bit of lead that looked like a weight. It had no float. To fish without a float seemed as nearly reasonable as to measure the heat without a thermometer, which was something impossible for me. So I looked on. They then told me to start, and asked me if I had any line. I told them I had more than I could use, but that I had no float.