Shipwrecks Read online

  When parties of villagers went to the neighbouring town to sell dried fish or salt, they would always call on the labour contractor’s. This was the only way they could hear news of their indentured kin. Sometimes they would hear reports of deaths, or that the person was ailing. Without exception, those who were sick would eventually die, but even knowing this, the family would pray for their loved one’s recovery. There was no news of Isaku’s father, which meant that he was almost certainly free from illness and working safely somewhere.

  Isaku moved away from the fireplace and curled up under his straw matting, his eyes barely open as he peered at his mother’s face.

  The mountains turned a deep shade of green. Light winds, seldom stronger than a breeze, started coming in, mostly from the east. Flies began to exhibit their prolific powers of breeding and swarmed over the squid hanging out to dry. When evening came, buzzing mosquitoes flitted by one’s ear.

  Occasionally cargo vessels would pass by, but the villagers barely looked up from the job at hand as the ships retreated steadily into the distance across the calm sea.

  The number of squid caught began to dwindle, and fewer were seen hanging out to dry. Those already dried were tied up with twine and packed away.

  On early mornings in mid-May people carrying bundles of dried squid on their backs would appear on the path, to be joined by others as they climbed up the mountain path.

  His mother, too, twice carried such bundles of squid to the next village. The amount of grain she brought back in return was nothing to speak of, but she seemed cheerful all the same. She had stopped in at the labour contractor’s to ask about his father, and there was no news. No news was good news; he must still be fit and well. Isaku felt relieved at this, but then he heard his mother say that Tami’s elder sister had fallen sick after working only two months.

  ‘And the broker’s got the gall to complain that he’s been had – after he’s been paid a big fat commission,’ his mother said, spitting out the words in outrage.

  If a bond servant died, the broker would have to pay a certain amount of compensation to the employer on the grounds that he had provided an unfit worker. For this reason the broker would choose only physically sound people. To cover a possible financial loss from a worker’s death, he would pay the bond servant’s family a great deal less than what he got from the employer. Isaku’s village provided a good supply of workers.

  No doubt Tami’s family would have heard by now, but Isaku wondered how they might take the news. Of course they would be distraught; but he thought they might harbour other thoughts as well. They had already received the bond payment, and Tami’s sister’s departure meant they had one less mouth to feed. On top of that, even if she were able to return to the village after finishing her bond service, in terms of age she would be unable to command a favourable match. In this respect, the news that Tami’s sister had fallen sick with what could only be a fatal illness might not necessarily be viewed as misfortune for the family.

  Putting the grain she had brought back into an urn in the larder, his mother muttered, ‘There’s no way your father’s dead. He’s too strong,’ almost as though she were trying to admonish herself for a moment’s doubt.

  In the evening of the day after his mother returned from her second trip taking dried squid to the next village, Isaku was pulling his boat onto the shore when he heard the man beside him say, ‘There’s a rainbow,’ as he removed the oar from his boat. Looking up, he could see it stretching faintly from the top of the mountain ridges to the sea. The first rainbow of the year.

  ‘The saury’ll be here soon,’ said the man enthusiastically as he swung his oar onto his shoulder and headed up the shore.

  The colours of the rainbow gradually deepened, emblazoning the evening sky. Rainbows in the late afternoon were seen as a good omen, especially those in early summer, which were judged to herald a good saury season. But Isaku felt uneasy as he watched the rainbow. His skill at catching saury left much to be desired and, if his haul was as poor as the previous year’s, his family would go hungry. The saury season was crucial for the villagers, as the very survival of their families through that year hinged on their ability to stock up on this vital source of nourishment. Takichi had said he would teach Isaku the knack of catching saury, but maybe that had merely been a lighthearted slip of the tongue the day before his wedding.

  Isaku occasionally saw Takichi on the shore, and sometimes caught sight of him fishing way out on the water. Whether or not it was because he had claimed a wife was not clear, but Takichi seemed to have a hint of self-confidence in his eyes. Though Takichi was small, Isaku felt that he looked down on him with an air of condescension. Isaku imagined that Takichi’s demeanour meant that his cousin would not teach him how to catch saury after all.

  But an even more dramatic change in Kura caught the attention of the villagers. She would come down to the shore as soon as she saw that Takichi had returned from the day’s fishing. She was a different person in Takichi’s presence, meekly following his every instruction. Strong as she was, she would effortlessly swing the large tub holding the day’s catch onto her shoulder and hurry back to their house. Takichi would saunter up the slope virtually empty-handed. Smiling lasciviously, the villagers would joke that Takichi must have knocked the stuffing out of her.

  On days when the sea was rough, Isaku would tie a hatchet and twine to a carrying frame and go into the woods to collect bark from linden trees for making cloth. Snakes were common among the thicker groves of linden trees, so Isaku wore leggings on top of close-fitting trousers.

  It was raining only lightly, but the wind was strong. Isaku held down the edge of his sedge hat to keep it from being blown off as he made his way up the damp mountain path.

  After walking for about an hour he stepped into the forest. The treetops were swaying wildly, but there was no wind inside the grove and the dank smell of bark hung in the air. He stopped beside a young linden tree and untied the hatchet and twine from his back frame. His father had taken him collecting linden bark twice in the past and, just like his father, Isaku sank the hatchet blade low into the tree, down near the roots. He cut a branch off the next tree, fashioned it into the shape of a spatula, and inserted the point under the bark, which lifted enough for him to grab and pull. The bark peeled away up the trunk.

  He moved from one young tree to another, stripping away bark as he went. Drops of rain fell noisily onto his hat. The water streaming down the trunks of the linden trees glistened.

  His stomach told him it was time to eat. He opened a little package of bamboo sheath and dug into the large millet dumpling wrapped inside. Last year he hadn’t collected any linden bark, but this year he would be able to get his mother to make some cloth for them. As he stared at the bark he had peeled from the trees, he felt that he had become the grown-up head of the family.

  He worked for a little while longer before finally collecting all the peeled bark, folding it in half, tying it up with twine, and lashing it onto the carrying-frame, which he then swung onto his back. It was heavy, around sixty or seventy pounds.

  Using his stick for support, Isaku cautiously threaded his way through the trees and out of the forest. The rain had grown heavier, throwing up spray as it pelted his hat and shoulders. The wind bore down on his load, and he felt his body moving with it. Isaku walked on down the path, stopping occasionally to steady himself against the gusts of wind. The stormy sea came into view below him. He was soaked to the skin with rain and sweat.

  His mother started preparing the bark that night. She trimmed off the outer part with a knife and laid out the inner layers on the floor. Isaku repaired his fishing-tackle on the dirt floor as he watched his mother, who seemed to relish her task.

  The next day she soaked the inner layers of bark in the stream near their house. The pieces of outer bark were bundled up in a corner, ready to be used as kindling. Five days later she pulled the bark out of the stream and boiled it in a potful of water mixed with
ash. Then she soaked it in the stream once again, rinsed it thoroughly, and hung it up to dry in the shade before pulling it apart to make into thread. His mother spun the thread on the spinning-wheel and then sat in front of the loom, weaving it into cloth. It was tiring work; occasionally she stopped to rub the sleep from her eyes.

  The wet season started and sheets of rain fell on the village. The villagers had seen the last of the squid, and now they caught nothing but small fry.

  In the evening an old fisherman came back to the shore to report that the saury were starting to come in.

  Isaku felt himself losing his composure. His father was gifted at catching saury, but for Isaku it was a trick he could not master for the life of him. The previous rainy season he had tried to fish as he remembered his father doing, but had caught nothing at all. Isaku’s family had to stand by helplessly as the smoke from other houses grilling saury floated up day after day, and everywhere people could be seen packing salted saury into barrels. This year, he thought, he had to catch some fish, even if it wasn’t a lot, for his family.

  Since the saury season provided the most important catch of the year for the village, the men tried their best to catch as much as they could; they had no leisure for teaching fishing techniques to others. The previous season, the other villagers had taken pity on Isaku’s family and had each brought them a few fish, but this year he didn’t want to depend on such charity.

  The only person Isaku could rely on was his cousin Takichi, but now that he had his own household to look after it was doubtful that he would teach Isaku how to fish. Besides, Isaku was concerned that Takichi had changed since getting married. But Isaku knew there was no way he could let his family starve, so that evening, after hastily eating his dinner, he hurried along the moonlit path to his cousin’s house.

  ‘Hello?’ Isaku said as he poked his head through the straw matting hanging at the entrance. Takichi looked towards the door from where he sat on the earthen floor, his wife kneeling beside him. There were several pieces of thick straw matting laid out on the floor, as well as some stout lengths of rope. Seeing that Takichi was starting to prepare his fishing tackle, Isaku walked towards him.

  ‘You said you’d tell me how to catch saury. I want you to teach me. My family’s gonna starve. I hope you haven’t forgotten what you said that night,’ Isaku said.

  ‘I haven’t forgotten. I thought you’d turn up before long,’ Takichi said. A faint smile appeared on his face.

  Isaku felt relieved. He sat down beside his cousin and turned his gaze toward Takichi’s busy hands.

  When fishing for saury, a fisherman would tie together three or four pieces of thick straw matting and attach a heavy rope to it, letting this drift up to about forty yards behind the stern of the boat. At the same time, over the gunwale, he would float a piece of straw matting with seaweed hanging underneath. After dropping the anchor, he would lie flat so as not to be seen by the fish. Eventually, when he sensed that a school of saury had come under the matting, he would gently pull the matting closer with the rope. The fish would move with it and also swim under the matting attached to the gunwale. The seaweed hanging down and the floating matting would excite the saury, and they would suddenly start to lay eggs. The fisherman would put his hand through one of the several holes in the matting and move his fingers in the water. Attracted by this, the saury would slip in between the man’s fingers and be caught in an instant.

  Though Isaku knew the basics of the procedure, he had never managed to catch anything. He had come as close as getting the fish between his fingers, but then they would get away. Also, the saury seemed to shun his boat, unlike the others.

  The straw matting that would trail from the stern of the boat lay on the floor, finished, and Takichi was now making the holes in the matting that would be hung over the side of the boat.

  ‘When I was at your house, I said you could bring your boat up alongside mine and watch from there, but, come to think of it, I can’t let you do that. It’d scare the fish away. Ask me anything you like, and I’ll tell you, though,’ Takichi said as he worked on the matting.

  Isaku had thought this might happen. Once the saury season started, the men became very sensitive and would yell at other fishermen if they brought their boats within a certain distance. A keen second sight was necessary with saury fishing, and the slightest distraction could ruin a day’s catch, so there was nothing strange about Takichi’s refusing to let Isaku bring his boat in too close.

  ‘Tell me how to grab the fish. They always get away from me,’ Isaku said, looking up at Takichi’s face. Takichi stopped what he was doing and lifted one hand, moving his fingers slowly in the air before suddenly clenching them together.

  ‘You grab the fish when you feel its head between your fingers. They get away because you grab too low.’

  ‘The head,’ said Isaku, moving his own fingers in the air.

  ‘If you let one get through your fingers, they won’t come back again. And when you go to grab them, make sure you don’t dig your fingers in. They’ll scatter if they smell their blood in the water.’ Isaku nodded as Takichi started working again.

  ‘One more thing. Why is it the fish don’t come near my boat?’

  Takichi looked up and replied, ‘They can see your shadow on the water. Lie down flat inside the boat and just poke your arm over the side. Saury get scared when they sense someone there.’

  Isaku knew all this, but he obviously wasn’t being careful enough.

  Takichi looked down at the straw matting. Isaku stared at him, impressed that his cousin was a full-fledged fisherman at the age of seventeen. Clearly, looking after his mother and now being a husband to Kura had imbued him with a strong sense of responsibility. Isaku could not help but see his cousin in a new light.

  Anxious to get home to start putting together his fishing-gear, Isaku thanked Takichi and Kura and left. He started working that night and resumed early the next morning. It was almost midday by the time he finished.

  Isaku and his mother carried the gear down to the beach through the light rain and loaded it into his boat. Dusk was said to be the best time for fishing, so there were no boats out on the water yet.

  He went down to the shore again after lunch, and found the men getting ready to take their boats out. The saury would come in from the west; the men would fish around the tip of the headland protruding on the left, about two and a half miles from the beach. Boats were leaving the shore one after another, so Isaku, too, put his headband on and pushed his boat into the water. Grasping the oar, he worked his way out through the reef. The sea was so calm that the waves barely lapped onto the cape. The rows of houses in the village faded into the distance as the expanse of mountains unfolded behind them. The rain had stopped, but clouds of mist clung to the wooded slopes.

  Isaku worked the oar with all his strength, but one by one the other boats overtook him. Sahei’s was the only one he could see behind him.

  His boat started to pitch and roll as he approached the cape and the open sea behind it. The men ahead of him had already started fishing by the time Isaku pulled in his oar, dropped anchor, and let the straw matting out into the water over the stern. The mats bobbed up and down with the swell of the sea as they drifted farther out, pulling the rope tight. Isaku put the last piece just over the side of the boat, recalling Takichi’s advice as he pressed his body flat and looked out astern toward the floating pieces of matting. According to Takichi, he should slowly pull on the rope to bring the matting in toward the boat once he sensed that a school of saury were underneath, but he could see no sign of any fish. Other men were already hauling in the ropes as they lay flat in their boats.

  He kept a close watch on his matting but saw no noticeable change. Yet, he thought, there may be a school of saury under there after all. He grabbed the rope and started to pull. The matting came slowly in towards the boat. It was heavy.

  When the matting reached the boat, he tied the rope to the stern. Isaku reached out t
oward the matting floating from the gunwale, put his hand through one of the holes, opened his fingers, and slowly moved them in the water. He focused on the area under the matting. He could see silvery, shining flashes darting by. They’re here all right, he thought.

  The silvery shining things gradually increased in number and began to seethe below the surface. Some even seemed to stop for an instant. Saury brushed against his fingers and then were gone. He remembered Takichi’s advice that if he missed the first fish, the whole school would scatter. Saury started to flit through his fingers. He could clearly see the heads. Several times he thought, Grab it! but his fingers did not move.

  When he saw a saury’s head passing between his fingers, he clutched at it hastily, but the fish did a shimmy and slipped away. The school of saury seemed to disappear in a flash, as did the silvery luminescence.

  Isaku took his hand out of the water and rubbed his face roughly. Once again he had been reminded that fishing for saury was not going to be an easy job and that catching them by hand would not be something mastered quickly. He tried to console himself, thinking that he hadn’t done so badly after all, that the previous year he had hardly ever managed to get the fish to come under the matting, let alone have them swarm around his fingers.

  Around him he could see men grabbing fish and dropping them in the bottom of their boats. Light rain started to fall. Isaku let out the rope and the straw matting once more, waited what he judged to be the right length of time, then hauled it back in, but there was no sign of saury under the matting.

  A short while later the sea began to turn a dark murky colour, and the men began to turn their boats back to shore. Isaku pulled up the matting, grasped his oar, and followed behind them. Threading his way through the reef behind the boat in front of him, he worked his way to the fire lit on the beach. Night was settling in and the people standing on the beach looked red in the firelight.