Shipwrecks (18 page)

Though there were many infants and young children among the dead, there were also a number of young men and women and old people. Isaku fed the fire with wood and poked at Kane's body with a bamboo rod to make sure the flames burned their way through.

At dusk Isaku picked up the bones and put them in a wooden tub. There was hardly anything to them.

When he got home, he placed the tub in front of the ancestral tablet and started to grill a fish on the fire. He called out to his mother and Isokichi, urging them to have something to eat, but they just lay there gasping, incapable of uttering a word in reply. Their mouths and nostrils were full of clotted pus.

That night a squall blew up and covered the house in sheets of rain. The downpour had stopped by morning, but the house creaked with the force of the wind.

Isaku passed the time quietly tending to his mother and
Isokichi. Their arms, legs and faces swelled even more, and fresh pus oozed from under what had already caked onto their skin, which by now was invisible under the purulent mass. It was as if they were wearing masks.

Jinbei's messengers called again, this time advising that recovery would begin once the scabs fell off naturally, and he must not remove them prematurely. Isaku did his best to feed his mother and Isokichi, spooning gruel into their mouths through the gap between their scab-encrusted lips.

Day after day corpses were being burned on the beach. Uneasy, Isaku went down to the shore to help carry firewood. It seemed that the village chief was still alive but in a serious condition.

The weather grew warmer and calm days with mist rising off the sea more frequent. The snow disappeared from the slopes behind the village, the only remaining traces of winter the sparkling strips of white on the distant ridges.

The beach was covered with the blackened charcoal remains of funeral pyres, some still burning. The number of bodies being burned was falling, an indication that the pestilence was on the wane.

When Isaku awoke one day early in March, he noticed that the scab covering his mother's right eye had dried up and fallen off. The eye was looking his way. The scabs covering her mouth moved and a muffled voice leaked out, ‘Kane's dead, isn't she?'

Isaku nodded, replying, ‘Many people have died.'

His mother quietly closed her eyes.

That night both his mother and Isokichi started wailing. The itchiness under the scabs was unremitting, and, unable to scratch for fear of worsening their condition, all they could do to get some relief was to press down on the dried pus.

The next day, while the urge to scratch at the scabs was still there, the fever had gone down somewhat. At the same time the caked mass that had covered their legs and arms was beginning to flake off. Pus no longer oozed out from under the scabs on their faces, and a pale powdery substance spread over their skin.

No more funeral pyres were lit on the beach. The itchiness that had tormented Isaku's mother and Isokichi gradually let up, and the scabs on their faces curled up, ready to fall off. Isaku told them it would be best to let the scabs fall off naturally, but his mother couldn't bear them on her face any longer and started to pick at them with her finger. Nothing adverse happened as a result, and in no time they were even able to eat again unaided. The spots on the skin where the scabs had been were strangely white, with a reddish depression marking the place where the boil had been.

Isaku finally realised that his mother and Isokichi had recovered, but he shuddered when he heard Isokichi say, ‘I can't see anything.' Star-shaped bulges covered the pupil of each eye.

His mother and Isokichi would get out of bed and sit by the fire, mostly without saying a word. As the days passed, the redness where the boils had been faded, but pockmarks were left not just on their faces but all over their necks, shoulders, arms, and legs.

Reluctant to leave Kane's bones sitting in the house, Isaku put them in a pot and set off up the hill to the crematory, where he buried them. Beside him an old woman was swinging a hoe as she dug a hole to bury the bones of two dead kin.

A few days later all the people who had not been infected by the disease were summoned to assemble on the beach. Isaku dropped what he was doing and went straight to the shore. About thirty men and women were standing in front of the little hut used in tending the salt cauldrons. He saw how few people had survived unscathed and realised how badly the village had been ravaged by the disease.

Isaku's eyes scanned the faces in the crowd. Sahei was there, but there was no sign of Tami.

The village chief came down the slope to the beach sitting in a makeshift litter shouldered by four men. The pockmarks covering his face served as a graphic reminder of what he had been through. The villagers prostrated themselves, and Jinbei's son Manbei stepped forward and knelt before the chief as the
litter was set down on the sand. They spoke in whispers, then Manbei nodded his assent and turned round to address the villagers.

‘It is the command of our revered chief that I take up the position of elder in the village. We have been stricken by a most terrible calamity, but the disease has now passed. The chief has decided what we must do. Those still keeping the bones of dead family members in their houses should see to it that they are taken up to the crematory and buried as soon as possible. Also, most of you will be spending your time taking care of your family, but those of you who can should be out fishing or collecting shellfish on the shore or tilling the soil. Now let us join our chief in a prayer to the sea.'

With that, Manbei sat down beside the chief.

The latter pressed his hands together in prayer, and the assembled followed as they turned to look out to sea. Isaku heard the sound of sobbing and felt tears welling in his own eyes. The grief over Kane's death that he hadn't felt until now suddenly overcame him. His heart bled for his little sister when he thought that her last moments of life had been spent thrashing about like a fish on a boat's deck.

That day a good number of villagers could be seen going up the hill to the crematory, carrying boxes or bags holding the bones of their loved ones. Isaku caught sight of Tami's father limping his way up the path, a box in his arms. The thought that it might contain Tami's bones sent a shiver down Isaku's spine.

The next day the sea was rough, but the following morning Isaku took his boat out for the first time in a while. The star-shaped blotches on Isokichi's eyes were still dark and the blindness showed no sign of improvement. Even blind, Isokichi might somehow manage to work the oar, but it would be impossible for him to go out in a boat for some time.

Before long the sardines started to bite, so much so that no sooner would Isaku drop the hook in the water than he would be pulling up a shimmering fish on the line. Other boats seemed to be having the same success.

They grilled the day's catch over the fire for their evening meal.

‘The peach trees'll probably be coming into flower up in the mountains now,' whispered his mother as she took a sardine to eat.

Isaku studied his mother's expression. He was reminded that before long his father would return home. In the three years his father had been away, both Teru and Kane had died and now Isokichi had lost his sight. Their father would be grief-stricken, so their mother was probably more fearful than happy at the prospect of seeing him again. And, on top of that, as a wife she was no doubt mortified at the prospect of showing her hideously scarred face to her husband.

Isokichi sat there with a look of despair on his face, but their mother began to work around the house. When she went outside, she wrapped a cloth round her head to hide as much as she could of her face. The women Isaku passed on the path were similarly self-conscious, either using a scarf to conceal their faces or wearing a sedge hat with the brim pulled down low.

Isaku saw several women on the shore and noticed that Tami was among them. He flushed with excitement at the thought that she had survived. She had a scarf wrapped round her face and was wearing a sedge hat, proof that her face must be covered with pockmarks.

Little by little the names of those claimed by the disease became known. In Isaku's cousin Takichi's family, the child had died and Takichi had lost his sight. Isaku saw his cousin being led by the hand by Kura, the brim of her sedge hat pulled down low over her face. Isaku's mother put some dried sardines in a bamboo basket and took them to Takichi's house.

As the moon started to wane toward the end of the month, after nightfall one day the droning of the sutras punctuated by the ringing of a bell could be heard from the village chief's house. At first Isaku was taken aback, thinking that someone in the village chief's family must have died, perhaps even the chief himself, but on rushing up to the house he saw the chief
and Manbei, the elder, kneeling and chanting. Jinbei was there, too, sitting to one side, leaning against a pile of straw mats.

Isaku assumed they must be praying to celebrate the defeat of the demons that had brought the disease to the village, so he returned home to set up a light offering in front of the family's ancestral tablet.

But the sutras did not stop that evening. They continued for days on end, from sunset until late into the night. It seemed that Jinbei, Manbei and the other senior villagers were actually sleeping at the chief's house, ringing the bell and chanting the sutras during their waking hours.

Isaku put a handful of rice into a bowl and placed it on the veranda of the village chief's house before joining the men in prayer. There was something strange about the atmosphere in the room. The chief and his entourage were chanting the sutras and fiercely sounding the bell, the manic cast to their bloodshot eyes making them look for all the world as if they were possessed. To a man their voices were hoarse and tired.

On a night when the moon had waned to a mere sliver of light the shape of a fishhook, a message went around that everyone except the lame and the very young was to gather in the village chief's courtyard. Isaku hurried along, flaming torch in hand, lighting the way for his mother, who led Isokichi by the hand. Torches emerged from the houses, converging at the path leading up the slope before gathering in the chief's courtyard. Once assembled, they extinguished their torches and knelt in the flickering light of the firebrands stuck into the ground in each corner of the yard.

Isaku thought they would probably be offering prayers of gratitude for the return of tranquillity to the village. An air of solemn expectation hung over the villagers as they knelt in the courtyard. The village chief appeared from inside the house and sat on the veranda. Still on their knees, the villagers bowed down until their heads almost touched the ground.

Isaku straightened up and looked at the chief's face. The light of the flaming torches revealed the old man's features covered with hideous pockmarks.

Next, Jinbei emerged from the house, supported on one side by his son Manbei and on the other by an attendant; they half dragged him to where the chief was sitting. The villagers again bowed deeply.

‘Listen carefully to what I have to say. The only thing for smallpox is banishment into the mountains. Those tainted with the disease can't stay among us in the village; they've got to go. Even if they have survived the disease, if they stayed here the poison lurking in them would someday come out to infect the healthy.' Jinbei started to weep. His body trembled and tears streamed down his face, glistening in the light of the torches.

Isaku cringed at Jinbei's announcement but could not comprehend the old man's words. Jinbei lifted his head and spoke again. ‘It pains me greatly to talk of banishing people. But if we don't, the poison will remain in the village and the demons of the disease will reappear to plague us again. In the end, everyone would die and the village would disappear. For the good of the village, I decided that I had to bring this up with our revered chief. I was afraid to mention it to him, because he himself has been afflicted by the disease and bears the ravages of the plague on his face. But the chief did not hesitate …' With that Jinbei let out a wail and collapsed to the ground. Tears were flowing down Manbei's cheeks, too, but he took up where his father had left off.

‘Our chief has said … letting the village perish would be an inexcusable sin against our ancestors … and he has said … he will go up into the mountains,' said Manbei, stumbling over his words.

Isaku froze. It dawned on him that the chanting of the sutras and the ringing of the bells in the chief's house had been part of the prayers to prepare for banishment to the mountains.

Did banishment, thought Isaku, mean spending the rest of one's days away from the village, up in the mountains? There were mountain vegetables to be gathered, and birds and animals to be caught for food, but that would never be enough to survive on, and starvation would not be far away. Leaving the village to go into the mountains could only lead to death.

Isaku was panic-stricken. He was the only one in his family who hadn't caught the disease, and as carriers of the smallpox poison his mother and Isokichi would have to leave. The villagers were suddenly agitated. Some looked at each other in disbelief; others, still incapable of grasping the situation, stared at the village chief and Manbei standing before them.

Isaku couldn't bring himself to look at his mother and Isokichi sitting beside him. The mere thought of it terrified him.

Faint whispers arose from among the villagers, growing in volume until they became a clamour. ‘This is awful.' ‘We have to leave you.' Isaku heard voices around him tinged with fear.

‘Revered elder.' The sad voice of a young man was heard.

Manbei turned his head slightly in the direction of the voice.

‘Those who go into the mountains will not be able to come back, will they?'

Manbei nodded. The young man was momentarily lost for words but then spoke again.