Part 8 (1/2)
'They say she often comes two years in a row,' Isaku offered, appraising Sahei's expression from the side.
'So they say,' Sahei agreed, nodding. The two of them sat there for a while, gazing into the water. Sahei got to his feet and shouldered his pack-frame load of firewood. Isaku and Isokichi did the same, and they moved away from the stream up the slope and back to the path.
By the time the village was enveloped in autumn colours, the red dragonflies had disappeared. With the sea turning colder by the day, the catch was reduced to small fry.
The person chosen to act as that year's pregnant woman in the ritual ceremony for O-fune-sama was a slightly built girl of sixteen. She threw the straw festoon into the sea and overturned the table in the village chief's house. But it was a weak performance in comparison with the previous year's, the food in the bowl barely spilling onto the floor.
The leaves on the trees turned from red to yellow and fell to the ground, but still no fires were lit on the beach. The sea was unusually calm for the time of year, so there was little point in lighting the fires under the cauldrons.
Isaku took his boat out every day, occasionally catching a large fish, almost a foot long, that he had never set eyes on before. This was a bony fish called gin, which was said to appear in early winter once or twice every ten years. True to its name, it was a brilliant silver. The older fishermen thought it strange that not only were there so many calm days but also gin should be appearing.
No sooner had the leaves stopped falling than the village had its first snow of the winter. At first it was little more than a flurry, but as night fell it became heavier, and by the next day it was a violent storm. The sea at last moved with the change of season, and the sound of the breakers pounding the sh.o.r.e a.s.saulted the village.
The snow stopped after three days, leaving the village covered in a white sheet. That night the fires were lit under the salt cauldrons. Folklore had it that the winter sea would be rough for four days, then calm for the next two, and indeed this proved to be the case. On the calm days Isaku took his boat out and again caught nothing but gin. It was a thin-fleshed fish with a bland taste. Rather than grilled, it was best tenderised with a knife to break up the little bones, and then either eaten raw or used to make dumplings for soup.
When Isaku's turn on the cauldrons came, he kept the fires blazing from dusk to dawn. As he sat in the little hut warming himself by the fire, he looked out into the darkness, picturing in his mind's eye the scene at the end of the previous year with O-fune-sama leaning to one side as she sat wrecked on the reef.
He could make out no more than the dull white of the waves breaking on the sh.o.r.e, and as he looked out into the darkness he wondered whether O-fune-sama might not indeed be already sitting out there hard and fast in the grip of the reef. The thought that the rice in those bales lying on the floor at home would eventually run out made him feel helpless and ill at ease. But Isaku and his family were indeed fortunate compared to Sahei's, who must surely be distressed at their situation. Getting used to the taste of rice made the prospect of life without it unbearable.
Snow fell most days, and the village was buried beneath a thick white blanket. When the sea was rough, Isaku stayed and worked at home, mending his fis.h.i.+ng-tackle or cutting wood for the fire. Isokichi went into the woods behind their house to set traps and occasionally came back with a rabbit, which he skinned and cut up according to his mother's instructions.
At times, when Isaku was half asleep, he would suddenly sit up, imagining that he could hear shouting. He would look out the door thinking that maybe O-fune-sama had come again, but there was nothing but the sound of the waves. s.h.i.+vering in the bitter cold, he would hurry back to his straw bedding.
The fires on the beach were lit without fail every night when the sea ran high, and at dawn Isaku's mother would carry the salt from the cauldrons to the village. The chill in the air was much more severe than in a normal winter, and the snow on the ground was frozen hard. s.h.i.+ps on the coastal run pa.s.sed within sight, while vessels from the clans plied the deeper waters farther offsh.o.r.e. Some, with sails trimmed, would speed past, bobbing up and down in the heavy seas.
As the year drew to an end, all the villagers' faces took on the same despondent expression, because they had now reached the time of the year when no more cargo s.h.i.+ps would be pa.s.sing their sh.o.r.es. Yes, some said that in the past O-fune-sama had come in successive winters, but to Isaku that appeared to be nothing more than wishful thinking.
The year came to an end, and a new one began. Their chances of being visited by O-fune-sama had gone. Each household prepared the New Year meal of boiled rice and grilled fish. Isaku's family was no exception, and they, too, placed their offering of rice in a bowl in front of their altar and lit a candle.
Isaku accompanied his mother and younger brother and sister through the snow to pay their respects at their ancestral graves. His mother scooped the snow away from the gravestones, then stood for some time, palms pressed together in prayer. She could only be praying that his father would return safely to the village after his term of bondage ended in the spring.
They had rice again with their evening meal, this time in gruel. As his mother sat there, sipping away, she turned to look at the remaining bales stacked on the dirt floor. 'Your father'll be surprised when he sees bales of rice sitting here.'
After New Year there was an unseasonal spell of calm weather, but by the middle of January the heavy seas were back with a vengeance. Isaku and Isokichi spent their days either collecting sh.e.l.lfish and kelp washed up on the sh.o.r.e, or cutting firewood. Their mother was busy making straw mats or weaving on her loom.
One night at the end of January, Isaku awoke suddenly from a deep sleep. His feet felt like blocks of ice in the intense cold. Looking at the straw matting hanging over the window, he sensed that dawn was not far away. Snuggling into his straw bedding, he shut his eyes, only to open them again. He thought he could hear voices mingled with the sound of the waves. Maybe he was imagining it; but then he made out what was unmistakably the sound of someone yelling, a full-bodied roar, closer to the bellowing of an animal than of a human.
He sat bolt upright and looked around: the rest of the family were sound asleep. Getting to his feet he poked the last embers in the fire and put on a few pieces of wood. The fire sparked into life, and the light threw dark shadows about the walls. Still thinking that his senses might have been playing tricks on him, Isaku sat in front of the fire warming his hands and straining to hear what might be going on outside.
This time he heard a strident voice, a man shouting 'Oooi'. Isaku flushed with excitement, crawled over to his mother's bed and shook her awake. She raised herself on one elbow and stared bleary-eyed at him. She remained motionless as she strained to make out the noises in the night, then jumped to her feet. Trying to keep up with his mother, Isokichi hurriedly threw his clothes on and pulled a straw cape over his head.
Isaku swung an axe onto his shoulder, grabbed a long-bladed hoe and a hatchet, and ran out of the door behind his mother and Isokichi. The first signs of dawn were in the air, and the stars were beginning to fade. He could just make out the horizon. Voices came from the sh.o.r.e as Isaku, his mother, and Isokichi hurried along the path through the knee-deep snow.
He could see a boat not too far out from the sh.o.r.e, where a number of villagers had already gathered, some holding firebrands. The waves crashed onto the sh.o.r.e, throwing white spume into the air. A chant of sutras rose as the village chief arrived, accompanied by half a dozen people.
'O-fune-sama's come,' said Gonsuke, who had been on duty at the salt cauldrons, his voice trembling as he knelt in front of the village chief. The chief nodded back, unable to disguise his excitement.
Suddenly a cheer erupted from the villagers, who had until then been deathly silent. Isaku couldn't believe that they were being visited by O-fune-sama two winters in a row. Maybe good things do come in twos after all, he thought.
The sky brightened and the s.h.i.+p was now clearly visible. She was smaller than the one that had come at the start of the previous winter and would probably carry only about a hundred bales as cargo. Her size wasn't the only thing that stood out; she was badly dilapidated and clearly not one of the st.u.r.dy clan s.h.i.+ps.
'Quiet!' barked the elder abruptly. 'Doesn't look like a s.h.i.+pwreck,' he then said in a tone close to a whisper.
Isaku took another look at the s.h.i.+p, and sure enough he could see no sign of damage to the hull itself, and the rudder blade certainly seemed to be in one piece. There were no sails, just bare masts. The s.h.i.+p was floating in a channel in the reef, drifting gradually toward the sh.o.r.e. There was certainly nothing resembling cargo to be seen.
'Looks like she's just drifted in,' said the man standing next to Isaku. Indeed, judging by her lack of sails, she must have just ridden the currents from farther up the coast. There didn't seem to be anyone on board, so she couldn't have been lured by the lights on the sh.o.r.e.
A thin veil of cloud covered the sky, but the sea was getting brighter by the minute. The villagers extinguished their flaming torches. The elder talked with the village chief for a time before addressing the villagers. 'Put out the boats, and check if there's any cargo on board. Be careful while you're at it: there's a swell out there,' he said.
Half a dozen men hurried to the sh.o.r.e, and pushed three little boats stern first into the water. Bobbing up and down on the turbulent sea, the boats made their way straight towards the horizon and were then skilfully turned to thread their way through the reef to the s.h.i.+p.
The three boats slowed and came up alongside the s.h.i.+p. The people standing on the sh.o.r.e saw one of the men jump nimbly on board the larger vessel. They could see him looking around before he disappeared from view below deck. Isaku felt uneasy. A s.h.i.+p that drifted in should be safe; but what if some of the crew were lying in wait to murder the unsuspecting villager, who as far as Isaku could make out had recklessly stepped down, alone and unarmed, into the bowels of the vessel?
The man eventually reappeared on deck, whence he clambered down into his boat. The three little boats pushed away from the side of the s.h.i.+p and headed back to sh.o.r.e. The village chief walked down to the water's edge, followed by the villagers.
One after another the boats touched land, and were swiftly pulled onto the snow-covered beach.
One of the men stepped from his boat and knelt in front of the chief.
'Cargo?' asked the elder standing beside the chief.
'Almost nothing. Just three sacks of charcoal and an empty rice tray.'
'Anyone on board?'
'All dead. About twenty of 'em. And they're all dressed in red. None of 'em are rotting, so they haven't been dead too long.'
'All in red?' said the elder, looking sceptically at the man.
'All in red. Their clothes are red. And so are their belts and socks. And why I don't know,' said the man incredulously, 'but there's a red monkey mask tied to the mainmast below deck.'
Snow began to fall. Isaku looked out toward the s.h.i.+p, which was rocking ever so slightly in the water.
'The empty rice tray may mean the people on board starved to death. But why would they put out with no cargo on board?' said the elder, tilting his head in disbelief. The only reason to risk setting sail in winter's rough seas would be to carry rice or some other important cargo. A s.h.i.+p's captain would sail only when satisfied that his trained eye was right about the weather. Though this could end in disaster, of course, it was nevertheless part and parcel of the sailor's destiny.
Setting sail without any cargo on board was completely beyond the bounds of common sense. Besides, it was incomprehensible why each and every one of the men on the s.h.i.+p should be dressed in red.
'Maybe this was some kind of ceremonial s.h.i.+p to celebrate something,' said the elder, his eyes s.h.i.+ning as if he had finally grasped a vital clue to solving the puzzle.
'Bright red has the meaning of celebration. We dress people in bright red to celebrate old age, and I've even heard stories about people whose coffins are painted red to symbolise their lives being brought to an appropriate end. I've seen a priest from the next village dressed in bright red, and he was a high-ranking priest, too,' added the elder in a forthright tone.
Isaku had no reason to doubt the elder's interpretation. After all, in their village it was customary for a midwife to tie her sleeves up with a red cord when delivering a baby, since the birth was a cause for celebration.
'If she's a s.h.i.+p that sailed as some sort of celebration, what kind of celebration could it be?' said one of the men, looking questioningly at the elder.
'That I don't know. They had a celebration and got on board the s.h.i.+p all wearing red clothes. Then suddenly the weather turned rough, and they must have been blown right out to sea. They ate the little food they had, and eventually they must have died of cold and starvation. Considering there's no cargo, that's the only thing I can think of,' said the elder, looking at the village chief for support.