Shipwrecks (16 page)

The village chief sneezed two or three times before leaving the beach accompanied by the more senior members of the community. The elder ordered the clothes and utensils to be carried to the chief's house. Several men tossed ropes into their boats and started rowing away from the shore, ten little vessels in all.

The boats pulled up alongside the ship on the reef, and the
men on board tied the ropes firmly to the larger vessel. Using long poles, they worked hard to dislodge the ship from the rocks; eventually she lurched free and floated clear. The fleet of little boats headed for the deeper water offshore, the ropes straining taut as the ship and its complement of corpses slowly moved away from the shore. Isaku could still faintly hear the fishermen's rowing chant, though in the heavy snowfall he soon lost sight of the group of boats.

The Hour of the Sheep had come and gone before the men returned from towing the ship out to sea. The snow had stopped. They knelt in front of the village chief and the elder and reported that they had towed the ship out far enough to see her taken by the current toward the north-east. The elder nodded. As a sign that prayers of gratitude for being blessed with the coming of
O-
fune-
sama
should begin, the village chief pressed his palms together. The villagers turned to face the sea and followed his lead. Weak shards of sunlight peeked from between the clouds, lighting up the sea far offshore.

When the village chief had finished his prayer, the elder said, ‘The clothes bestowed upon us by
O-
fune-
sama
shall be given to little girls and women. They will be handed out at the chief's house. None will be given to the men.'

A hint of a titter could be detected from the men. The village chief and the elder went off up the beach, followed by the villagers. No doubt Isaku's sister and mother would be given some of the clothes, and Isaku felt elated at the thought that their house would be brightened by the brilliant red.

The elders of the village walked into the chief's house proper, the rest of the throng remaining on the lower dirt floor. Folded up in neat sets, the red clothes were laid out in rows on the straw mats. The very sight of these garments brought grins of joy to the faces of the women.

Bowing deeply before the village chief, the senior elder got to his feet. ‘There are twenty-three sets of clothing. Counting from the smallest child, they will be given to twenty-three young girls. It wasn't clear how to divide up the socks and the belts, but our revered chief decided that, since this red is also used to celebrate
old age, we should give them to old women so that they may live longer, healthier lives yet, and so the belts and socks will be given out to the oldest among them,' he said, surveying the scene in the room. When the elder sat down, three men got to their feet and stood beside the display of clothes. As one of them called out the name of a young girl, the other two, kneeling, picked up a set of clothes and held it beside the edge of the raised straw-matting section of the floor. The parents of the girls named came forward to receive their allotted garments. Some households were even given two or three sets. The grateful people prostrated themselves in front of the village chief.

On hearing the man announce the name of Isaku's younger sister, Kane, Isaku's mother stepped forward, accepted the clothes, and raised them above her head in a show of gratitude. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and a smile shone across her face.

The belts and socks were handed out to the old women, some of whom smiled with embarrassment at receiving something so splendid. By now the cheerful atmosphere had infected everyone in the room.

When the last of the clothes had been handed out, the elder bowed deeply in front of the village chief before getting to his feet.

‘The presentation of the bounty from
O-
fune-
sama
is over. These are truly fine garments, so use them only for celebrations. Take good care of them so that they may be passed down to generations to come. And remember, these clothes are from the bodies on
O-
fune-
sama
. Be sure to scrub them clean.'

The villagers gathered in the room prostrated themselves on the floor in response to the elder's words. As soon as the women stepped out of the chief's house they broke into a lively chatter. They were not slow to realise that the adult clothes could be unstitched and made into two or even three pieces of clothing for a little girl. Laughter broke out among the old women when one of them wrapped a belt round herself like a loincloth. Isaku plodded back through the snow to his house, eyes focused on
his mother, for the gaiety in her face was something he had not seen in a long time.

When they got back home, his mother placed the red clothes in front of the family's ancestral tablet and lit the small amount of oil she had poured into a wooden dish. Isokichi was cutting firewood down on the dirt floor and Kane was playing beside him, but when their mother beckoned they came up onto the straw matting and sat in front of the ancestral tablet. Following their mother's lead, Isaku and his brother and sister raised their hands in prayer. The light in the little dish flickered as the dark of the night started to set in. Their mother scooped rice from the open bale and started to boil gruel. ‘The day your father gets back we'll dress you in some nice red clothes,' she said to Kane as the little girl sipped her vegetable porridge.

Isaku was once again reminded that their father never left his mother's thoughts. He could picture the scene next spring when the four of them, with Kane all dressed up in her red clothes, would go out to meet his father after his three years as a bond slave. In the murk of the room, the red clothes stood out in bold relief against the dim light from the dish but looked somehow out of place. Indeed, the inside of the house seemed to be glowing, with only that spot lit up.

The next morning when they awoke, the sea was calm, so Isaku and Isokichi got ready to go out fishing. Their mother was already washing the red clothes in the little stream behind the house. It seemed that other women were doing the same, because Isaku could hear their cheerful voices.

He pushed the boat out; and dropped a line over the side once he got near the reef. Isokichi called out and motioned with a half-turn of his head for Isaku to look to the shore. Isaku couldn't help smiling at the sight of bright red garments hanging out to dry throughout the village. The swaying objects were the belts, and the things that looked like red berries on a tree must be the socks. With the snow-covered mountainside as a backdrop to the village, it was a beautiful sight to behold.

By the time they returned in the late afternoon, the bright
red had disappeared. Isaku swung the oar over his shoulder and made his way home with Isokichi.

The red clothes had been hung up on the wall. With the stains now washed off, the red appeared all the brighter and the material had a keen lustre to it. The elder had said that the clothes should be stored with great care so that they might be handed on to future generations, and indeed they were so precious that the chances were the village would never see anything like them again.

Isokichi, too, stood for some time in front of the garments, his eyes glistening in awe.

T
he village was still covered in deep snow, but the worst of the winter was over. Icicles which had been hanging from the eaves of the houses seemed to vanish in the space of a day, and a vaporous haze hung over the surface of the brook that flowed past Isaku's house. With the coming of February, sleet became more common.

According to his mother, some families had already taken the red garments apart, cut the cloth to their daughters' sizes and begun to sew their creations together. His mother could often be seen casting a contented glance from her daughter, Kane, to the red clothes hanging on the wall, comparing the size of one against the other.

The sea was calm for days on end, and the chill had left the air. Isaku's mother carefully unstitched the red clothes and cut the cloth to match Kane's body and arm measurements. Then she held the cloth up against her daughter before starting to sew the pieces together.

The first signs of spring came earlier than usual, and the snow covering the village started to melt. Large cracks appeared in the snow on the roofs, and before long it was sliding noisily to the ground. The village chief ordered the salt-making on the beach to stop.

When Isaku returned home from fishing the next evening, his mother told him that his cousin Takichi's daughter was running a high fever and was evidently in a serious condition. Born late in January the previous year, she had been growing at a prodigious rate, which of course was only to be expected with someone as sturdy as Kura for a mother. Recalling the sight of this hardy little girl often playing down on the sand while her mother combed the shore made it difficult to believe that she could fall ill.

‘Some bad flus go around about the time the snow melts. Just because it gets a little warmer is no reason to walk around lightly dressed,' his mother said as she checked whether the pot of gruel had come to the boil.

Sudden death was nothing unusual for infants in the village, and it was said that parents could not relax until their children had survived to see their fifth New Year. Most of the deaths occurred during winter, and the cold winds off the sea were blamed for many of the illnesses. Takichi's little daughter had often been down on the shore with Kura, so maybe that was why she had fallen ill.

The next day the sea was rough, and rather than take his boat out Isaku made his way through the snow into the forest behind the village; he looked for fallen trees that he could drag back to the house and cut up for firewood. Isokichi lent a hand, but he complained of feeling listless and often stopped to rest.

Even with nightfall the wind showed no signs of letting up, and the houses were enveloped in the sound of the waves crashing against the beach.

Isaku awoke just before dawn. He rolled over and snuggled deeper into his straw bedding but noticed that his covers were moving ever so slightly. He thought it must be the wind, but then he heard a groan so he poked his head out to take a look.

In the dim light of the fire Isaku could just make out Isokichi's face, the younger boy lying on his side as he slept. Isokichi had his eyes closed, but the straw covers on top of him were moving. Isaku could now hear Isokichi grinding his teeth, and he finally realised that it was the movement of Isokichi's covers that had been moving his own.

‘Iso, what's the matter?' Isaku asked, peeking at his brother.

‘It's so cold,' said Isokichi, opening his eyes. His voice trembled, and the words faded away before he could finish them.

‘It's not cold tonight. What's wrong?' Isaku straightened Isokichi's covers, touching his brother's shoulder in the process.
It felt wickedly hot, so Isaku laid his hand on Isokichi's forehead.

‘You've got a fever all right.'

‘I can't stop shivering … and I have a terrible headache,' said Isokichi, screwing up his face.

Isaku crawled out of bed and put some more wood on the fire.

‘What's wrong?' His mother sat up. Isaku told her that Isokichi had a fever and a headache.

‘I'm feverish, too. Feels as if I've got the flu as well. Boil some water, I'll make some herb tea,' she said, standing up and pulling a jacket over her shoulders as she stepped over to Isokichi. Isaku bent down over the bucket, broke the thin layer of ice, scooped out some water, then poured it into a pot, which he placed on the fire. His mother wet a cloth with ice-water and laid it on Isokichi's forehead.

Steam started to rise. Their mother stepped on the dirt floor to get some dried
shiso
leaves, which were hanging on the wall. She dropped them into the hot water and watched them spread out and then bob up and down as the water came to the boil. Isaku kept the fire going, but his eyes were riveted on his younger brother.

After a while their mother ladled some of the brown concoction into a bowl, coaxed Isokichi into a sitting position, and made him drink. The boy was trembling so much that the bowl almost spilled, but, grimacing, he managed to drink it all down before lying back.

His mother split open a pickled plum and rubbed it onto both sides of his forehead. ‘This'll take care of your headache by sunrise,' she said, and she drank some of the tea herself.

Isaku moved away from the fireside and snuggled back into his straw bedding. Shivering, he pulled his legs right up under the covers, but the bed had long since lost its warmth. He gazed at the flames in the fire and in no time had dropped off back to sleep.

Isaku woke to the sound of crying. His mother was sitting
beside Kane, who was weeping in a rasping, dry voice. The first dim light of dawn was filtering into the room.

The straw covers had stopped moving. Isaku turned his eyes towards his younger brother. Maybe the herb tea had worked and brought the boy's temperature down, thought Isaku, but Isokichi was just lying there, breathing hard with his mouth half open. Isaku touched the boy's forehead. It was very hot. Isokichi had his eyes closed but didn't seem to be asleep.

Isaku got up and went over to the fire to warm his hands. ‘Kane's not well, is she?' he said to his mother.

‘She's got an awful fever. But it's the headache that's making her cry,' she replied, still with her back to him.

Isaku stood up and peered over his mother's shoulder at Kane. Her face was red and she was crying at the top of her lungs. It wasn't uncommon for influenza to spread quickly from house to house at the end of each winter, in some cases forcing every member of the family into their beds. But normally two or three days of rest and herb tea led to a complete recovery.

Isaku stepped onto the dirt floor and picked up a bundle of wood for the fire. Then, continuing his morning routine, he went outside and looked out to sea and then up at the sky. The wind had died down, and the stars were mere specks of fading light above the barely visible horizon. By now the sea was much quieter, and the white of the foam was all that could be seen of the waves as they broke on the shore.

‘How does the sea look?' asked Isaku's mother as she placed a pot on the fire.

‘A lot calmer, but with Isokichi and Kane both sick …'

‘You saying you're not going out? Leave them to me. What good's a fisherman who doesn't fish?' his mother snapped, irritated that two of the children had fallen ill on her.

Isaku started getting ready to go out in the boat.

That day he fished alone for the first time in a long while. Working the oar with one hand, he played the line with the other. He tried to copy the adult fishermen by moving the oar with his foot, but his lack of size made this difficult.

Around midday Isaku ate one of the millet dumplings he had brought with him, wrapped in seaweed. He saw a plume of snow-dust rising into the air in the mountains behind the village, an indication that the avalanches had started. Most of the snow had already dropped off the roofs of the houses in the village. He thought that maybe this year the schools of sardines that always accompanied spring might appear inshore earlier than usual.

Hearing a voice behind him, Isaku turned round and saw Sahei's boat approaching. He wrapped up the dumpling in the seaweed again.

Sahei pulled his boat alongside Isaku's and said, ‘Any of your family down with a fever?'

‘Yes, Isokichi and Kane are both sick, and my mother said she's got a chill, too.'

‘I thought as much,' Sahei said dejectedly.

‘Something wrong?' said Isaku, looking inquisitively at him.

‘Seems there are quite a few people with this fever. My sister's got it. Didn't you notice how few boats there are out today? Can only mean that either the man's sick or someone in his family's down with it.'

Isaku looked around as Sahei spoke. He had thought the slight swell might be why so few people were out … but then again, normally there probably would be a good number of boats out on a sea like this.

‘There aren't many out, that's for sure. It's a wicked flu this one,' said Isaku in hushed tones.

‘You all right?' asked Sahei as he looked across the water.

‘I'm fine.'

‘Well, let's both be careful we don't get it. That wind off the sea can really give it to you. Once the sun goes down the wind turns icy. Best to head in early, I reckon,' Sahei said, and he grasped his oar and started to work his little boat forward.

As he watched the gap between their two boats widen, Isaku thought how considerate his friend was. Sahei might have an obstinate side to him, but time had seen him become more mild-mannered, and his attitude to Isaku reflected the feeling
of brotherhood shared by men working on the sea. There was still much to learn from Sahei, thought Isaku.

He finished eating and started fishing again.

When the sun began to go down, he turned the prow of the little boat towards the shore. Partly because of Sahei's advice, but also because he wanted to get home quickly to see how everyone was. There wasn't a soul to be seen gathering shellfish or seaweed on the shore, an eerie reminder of Sahei's comment that many people had fallen ill.

He pulled the boat onto shore and headed for his house, oar on one shoulder and the basket holding his catch on the other. His long shadow moved across the sand and up the path to the village.

When he entered the house, he looked towards the middle of the room and was surprised to see his mother lying on her side, too.

‘Are you all right?' Isaku asked.

‘I'm burning up … But I feel cold all over. I just can't stay on my feet,' she said through parched lips.

Isaku thought it was just as well he had come back early, not only to look after his sick family but to get the housework done. He went out of the back door and filled a bucket with water from the brook, scooping some snow into it to make sure it was cold. When he got back indoors, he put pieces of cloth in the water, wrung them out, and carefully placed one first on his mother's forehead, then one each on Isokichi's and Kane's. He boiled up some herbal tea, put a good measure of rice into a pot, and made some gruel. He'd heard that rice was good for curing illnesses, so this was no time to be stingy with their supply.

Both Isokichi and Kane complained of headaches, and the little girl was crying in a rasping voice. The pieces of cloth soon become warm, so Isaku dropped them back into the iced water every few minutes.

During the night he woke up often to tend to his family. His mother was breathing heavily. The next day their fevers got worse, and they started to complain of back pain as well.
Their mother seemed to be in particular distress, pressing her hand against her back and clenching her teeth. Isaku stayed at home rather than go out on the water in his boat.

Just after midday, without warning, the elder appeared at the door with two other men. He frowned at the sight of Isaku's mother lying prone on the straw matting.

Isaku stepped down onto the dirt floor and knelt in front of the elder.

‘So your family's come down with it, too? When did the fever start?' he asked, watching Isaku's mother.

‘Early yesterday morning for my brother and sister, and yesterday afternoon for my mother.'

‘You're all right, I see.'

Isaku replied that he was well.

‘It's a wicked flu, this one. The chief is down with a fever, too. An exorcism of the demons that caused this affliction is being performed in the chief's house, so make sure you set up a light offering in front of your family's ancestral tablet.'

The message was well rehearsed, as though the elder was going around making the same announcement to all the households. After casting his eyes back once more towards Isaku's ailing family, he left the house, followed by the other two men.

Isaku stepped back onto the straw-matted area and set up a light offering in front of their ancestral tablet. Judging by what the elder had said, most of the villagers must be suffering from the same ailment. Even so, Isaku would never have imagined that the village chief would come down with it.

The sound of the water flowing in the brook had increased over the last few days. Signs of spring were everywhere, and surely, Isaku thought, with it would come an end to the affliction plaguing the village.

But the next day his mother's fever worsened and she began to groan in pain. The pain in her back had intensified, and she pleaded with Isaku to do something to relieve it. For someone as strong-willed as his mother to be saying this could only be proof she was in agony. Isaku busied
himself keeping up a steady supply of cold, wet cloths and herb tea.

Whether it was the tea taking effect or that they had simply passed the worst of it he didn't know, but the next morning Isokichi, Kane and their mother all seemed to be running less of a fever. Their headaches and back pain had subsided, and all three had stopped groaning. They looked completely exhausted, but relieved.

Though Isaku was pleased with the apparent improvement in their condition, he noticed that their puffy faces were covered with something like a heat rash. The little spots gradually reddened, and by evening they had spread to their arms, legs, back, and chest.