Shipwrecks (15 page)

He could see a boat not too far out from the shore, where a number of villagers had already gathered, some holding firebrands. The waves crashed onto the shore, 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 ship 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 sturdy clan ships.

‘Quiet!' barked the elder abruptly. ‘Doesn't look like a shipwreck,' he then said in a tone close to a whisper.

Isaku took another look at the ship, 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 ship was floating in a channel in the reef, drifting gradually toward the shore. 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 shore.

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 shore, 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 ship.

The three boats slowed and came up alongside the ship. The people standing on the shore 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 ship 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 ship and headed back to shore. 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 ship, 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 ship'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 ship should be dressed in red.

‘Maybe this was some kind of ceremonial ship to celebrate something,' said the elder, his eyes shining 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 ship 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 ship 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.

The villagers were silent. Several among their number nodded in agreement. The fact that this ship had not gone aground on the reef while trying to seek safe harbour meant it was different from previous
O-
fune-
sama
. All the people on board being dead must mean that it had drifted into the little village bay merely carried on the currents and blown by the winds.

Isaku supposed that the bright red clothes on the corpses were an indication of the nature of the ship itself. It reminded
him of the colour of the rising sun, the start of a new day, its brightness also representing the continuation of life. The bright red at dusk was reassuring, promising that as one day came to a close another would follow. Isaku thought that it was indeed fortunate for their village to have been blessed by the visit of this ship and its richly clad passengers.

‘Revered elder,' stammered the man who had checked below the ship's decks. The elder turned to face him.

‘The bodies on the ship, they've got scars from what must have been spots. All over them. Faces, arms, legs … Terrible pockmarks,' said the man, grimacing. The villagers looked fixedly at the two men.

‘Spots?' replied the elder sceptically.

The snowfall was suddenly heavier. The elder stared out at the ship in front of them.

‘There are all sorts of “spots”. What kind of spots do you mean?' snapped the elder impatiently.

The man looked as though he was brooding over something and paused before replying. ‘It was dark below deck and I couldn't see all that well, but they looked like the sort of thing you get with a rash.'

‘If it's a rash, maybe they ate some fish that was spoiled, or even a fish that was poisonous. If they'd run out of rice and were starving, they might very well eat that kind of fish,' said a man standing next to Isaku.

‘But if it was just a simple rash, that wouldn't leave pockmarks. If there're pockmarks on the bodies, it's some other sickness,' retorted a middle-aged man, silencing the man beside Isaku. Another, voice trembling with cold, said, ‘It could be the fever-flower,' at which the hint of a smile crossed the elder's face. It was the first time Isaku had heard the name of this illness, so he had no idea why the elder should find it amusing.

‘The fever-flower?' said a young man, looking questioningly at the elder. The middle-aged man replied, ‘You haven't heard of it? On my trips to the next village I've seen lots of men smitten with the fever-flower. They get spots all over their face and arms and legs, and pus oozes out of the spots. The spots
are shaped a bit like plum or cotton flowers, and sometimes they get a fever, so it's called the fever-flower.' Turning to the man who checked below deck, he asked, ‘Were the spots on the bodies a reddish colour? Did they look anything like the shape of a flower?'

‘Now that you mention it, I've seen men in that condition sitting on the side of the road in the next village, and the spots looked just like that. No, it's not a rash,' he said, nodding back and forth.

Listening to the men's conversation, Isaku realised that there were many things he had yet to learn. He'd been to the next village before, but he'd never seen men with spots of that description. He wondered what on earth could cause such a hideous disease.

Several men had cleared snow away down to the sand and were busy lighting a fire with the sticks and firewood from the hut used as shelter during salt-making. Surrounded by the throng of villagers on the beach, the chief stood pensively in front of the flames.

The elder proceeded to make an announcement: ‘I had thought that this boat was part of some kind of celebration. It would seem that's not the case. This must have been done as a punishment. The fever-flower is a disease that afflicts men whose lust leads them to associate with loose women. Such women carry the pox, so when a man indulges himself the disease spreads all over his body from his private parts. The fever-flower is heaven's punishment for the lustful. No doubt the village or town chief collected together those men whose boils stank of the evil disease and put them on this ship, taking them out to sea and leaving them to drift on the currents. The fact that there are no sails or oars can only mean that they were banished, meant to drift to their deaths at the ends of the seas.'

Isaku finally understood the nature of the sickness. In the next village there were houses and streets bustling with people and cattle. There were all sorts of shops, even places where you could buy food or drink if you had the money. Money, it
seemed, could buy you anything. The people in the next village looked as if they were enjoying lives free from want, but at the same time this hideous disease called the fever-flower was lurking as the spoils of carnal pleasure. So that was why the elder had smiled when he mentioned the words ‘fever-flower'.

The village chief deliberately turned to look at the elder, and took a deep breath before announcing, ‘Even if there is no cargo on her, there is no changing the fact that she's
O-
fune-
sama
. We've been blessed with this visit, so we can't just push her back out to sea.'

The elder nodded gravely.

‘That's true. But as we can see from here, she's little more than an old tub, and her timbers would be good for nothing more than firewood. There doesn't seem to be anything of value among her tools, either. Even so, let's at least get them on shore. It sounds as if the only thing we could use is the clothes on the bodies,' he replied.

‘And we won't get the disease if we take the clothes off these bodies?' asked the village chief, a troubled look in his narrowed eyes.

‘There's no chance of that. The fever-flower is transferred only when a man penetrates a woman who is carrying the disease. Even with clothes soiled by pus or blood from the boils, if we use them after they've been washed thoroughly there is nothing to fear,' replied the elder in a tone brimming with confidence.

Seemingly satisfied, the chief nodded in agreement.

‘We only get to see things like these red clothes in the next village. They're certainly a sight. Say we keep them for young children to wear or use them at celebrations. These red clothes could very well be an omen of good fortune,' said the elder. Again the chief nodded approvingly.

Turning to the men, the elder bellowed his commands. ‘Well then, get out there and strip the clothes off the bodies. Claim whatever fittings you can. Then tow her out and let her drift away on the current. She'll break up and sink before too long.'

The men nodded in unison, then dashed to the water's edge. Five boats were pushed out onto the water. Bobbing up and down in a line, they made their way to the ship through what was by now a fierce snowfall.

Isaku planted his axe upright in the snow and stood there, mesmerised by the movements of the little boats. They drew up alongside the ship and the men disappeared below deck. In his mind's eye, Isaku could imagine the villagers stripping the red clothes off the pockmarked bodies. Before long he could see red things being handed down into the five boats. There seemed to be a large quantity as the men passed them one after another to the waiting hands below. Finally, what appeared to be ship's tools were loaded into the boats before they pushed away from the side of the ship. The five boats threaded a path through the reef and made their way back to the shore, where the villagers were waiting by the water's edge. The bounty from the ship was unloaded and carried promptly to where the village chief was standing. Isaku had expected to be assailed by a nauseating stench from the pus-stained clothes, but there was nothing more than the dank smell of mould.

The elder spread out the clothes and, eyes abrim with satisfaction, pronounced, ‘This is good rugged cloth. And just look at this beautiful red.' The belts and socks were also a vivid red, and it was quite beyond Isaku how something could be dyed to produce such a colour. It was a far deeper hue, much finer in texture, and had a better sheen to it than anything in cloth woven from linden bark. Sighs of wonder could be heard from the women standing on the beach. Utensils claimed from the ship included a rice tray, some sacks of charcoal, a wooden brazier, some pots and pans, and a red monkey mask.