Pathway to Japanese Literature

I “If he fired one resounding shot, that alone meant a full thirty yen profit.”

Whenever she drank herself into a stupor, the woman would begin telling stories about her dead husband to the sailors like this. Her husband had been Komori Ankichi - a harpooner aboard the whaling ship Hokkai Maru. True to her words, during his lifetime he'd received extra bonuses each time he fired a successful harpoon shot. But when stormy seas claimed both Hokkai Maru and her husband about a year earlier, she'd quickly blown through their meager savings and taken up work at a portside bar. Harpooners ranked high among whaling crews. Unlike common deckhands, he'd managed to support his family in modest comfort. They'd had one child together. Muttering complaints between drinks, she'd suddenly fall silent whenever memories of that child left at home surfaced - sobering mid-sentence to release a heavy sigh.

At first, her husband’s death had been as unbelievable as a dream, but as half a year turned into a year, it gradually took on a clearer form in her mind. Now, working like this for her child’s sake, she found her only solace in those drunken moments—stories of the past that were neither boasts nor laments.

The Hokkai Maru was a Norwegian-style whaling ship of just under two hundred tons, belonging to the small unlimited partnership Iwakura Whaling Company. According to the Shipping Bureau’s registry, Hokkai Maru’s sinking was recorded as October 7th. That day marked a calamity across the North Pacific—the season’s first storm had struck. The Hokkai Maru, which had been pursuing a pod of whales riding the Oyashio Current northward, was caught in a storm near the northern end of the Japan Trench, in waters where the sea showed an eerie gray hue.

The first to receive the distress signal was the Kushiro Maru—a sister ship of the Hokkai Maru under the same Iwakura Company, engaged in whaling at a location no more than twenty nautical miles from the Hokkai Maru. Apart from Kushiro Maru, among the steamships navigating nearby, there were two cargo ships that had picked up the signal. However, the disaster site—shrouded in sea fog—had great depth, fierce currents, and was utterly desolate, making approach impossible.

The small vessel Hokkai Maru flooded rapidly; its sinking was abrupt. When the rescue ship from the Maritime Rescue Association rushed to the scene, Hokkai Maru’s silhouette was already gone; across the sea surface—littered thickly with coal dust and oil—only Kushiro Maru, which had arrived first, wandered helplessly, tossed by violent waves. According to the SOS, the cause of the disaster was neither a collision nor grounding nor contact of any kind. It was merely that the flooding had been severe and uncontrolled; the abrupt tilting continued until it sank just like that. Yet even though Hokkai Maru was not yet old enough to be called a decrepit vessel—autumn storm or not—why had it suffered such severe flooding? This too could not be discerned from the very signals transmitted by the sinking ship itself. The investigation was continued by the rescue ship and Kushiro Maru. Even after the storm subsided and several days passed, Hokkai Maru was not discovered.

And now, a full year had passed.

At Nemuro Port，with the freezing season once again looming near，the end-of-season bustle of the fishing period arrived.

“If he fired one resounding shot, that alone meant a full thirty yen profit.”

As night fell and the chill crept upward from the floorboards, the bar with its small Daruma stove once again hosted the woman’s lamentations tonight. “People… you can’t count on ’em at all… right? Ain’t that so?” “Marutatsu, old man…” “It’s all the whale’s curse.”

The old sailor who appeared to be a dockhand called Marutatsu listlessly raised his drink-reddened eyelids and spoke as if surveying those around him. “It’s all the curse of whales.” “Because they hunt whale calves—that’s what brings misfortune.”

“Old man.” “Again with the Norwegians, huh?”

A man who appeared to be a trawler sailor jeered.

Curse of the Whales—however, that was not merely Old Marutatsu’s superstition alone. From the very time of Hokkai Maru’s sinking, it had already circulated as a widespread rumor among Nemuro Port’s older residents regarding the disaster’s cause. It was a legend passed down by those same men since the days when Norwegian harpooners still worked aboard Japanese whaling ships.

“Whaling ships that hunt calves will inevitably be cursed.” The religiously zealous Norwegian harpooners had said that and, fearing calf-whaling, refused to engage in it. Moreover, even without that superstition, the hunting of whale calves had been strictly prohibited by law for cetacean protection. To prevent overhunting of adult whales themselves, the government had restricted whaling ship construction to thirty vessels nationwide. However, whaling ships that secretly engaged in calf-whaling beyond patrol ships’ surveillance areas to boost efficiency seemed to exist from time to time.

The Iwakura Company in Nemuro had been permitted to own two ships. Hokkai Maru and Kushiro Maru were those. And on evenings when the sea fog lifted, fishing boats returning from the Kuril Islands would occasionally discover—in waters offshore of Etorofu Island—the corpse of a calf whale floating along, pecked at by swarms of dolphins. In Marutatsu’s terms, having incurred the curse of the whales, Hokkai Maru sank. And now, a full year had already passed. Iwakura Company, undeterred by the loss, had promptly built a new second Hokkai Maru and continued its vigorous operations.

Whenever the harpooner’s widow, drunk and grumbling, began airing her grievances to customers, Old Sailor Marutatsu would invariably bring up the curse of the whales. And when the conversation reached that point, the gathering—composed almost entirely of sailors—would grow strangely subdued, everyone sinking into gloom with unpleasant expressions as was their custom.

Tonight too, ultimately, it came.

Sea fog blowing in from the ocean blurred Nemuro town in a cold milky haze, and frost-like vapor clung to the bar’s glass window. People gathered around the stove burning bright red and drank as if suddenly remembering. The sake had turned completely cold. Outside, a chilly wind whistled through the power lines while night-fishing boat engines clattered incessantly. The sea fog hung heavy, making the night unnervingly quiet. The people fell silent and kept drinking their bitter sake.

However, that drained desolation did not last long.

It was an utterly unexpected event, but the harpooner’s widow—who until now had been letting out liquor-tinged sighs while absently scanning the faces around her—suddenly clattered violently as she scattered utensils and rose as if toppling the table. Her complexion had turned ashen like clay, her eyes—widened in terror—were fixed burning on the front entrance.

On the glass door there, damp with condensation, a ghostly shadow had appeared.—A shadowy figure in a rubberized waterproof coat with its collar turned up, his waterproof cap pulled low over his face, pressed close to the glass from outside. His disheveled beard jutted forward as he peered inside with sunken amber eyes that darted about fearfully. But when his gaze met that of the woman who had just stood up, he jerked his chin in a furtive signal and vanished into the darkness beyond.

That was Komori Ankichi—the harpooner of the sunken Hokkai Maru, who was supposed to be dead.

II

Inside the bar, the people rose to their feet as one. "That's your husband, isn't it?" Marutatsu said in a completely sobered tone. A young sailor, in a trembling voice,

“Could it be a case of mistaken identity?” “No mistake about it.” “Every man who’s ever come through Nemuro—past or present—I know ’em all by face.” Marutatsu rose from his seat. “That’s Hokkai Maru’s Ankichi, sure as tides.”

“So… he was alive after all?”

“So he survived and came back now, after all?”

However, before long, the woman ran out toward the entrance without saying a word. The people too surged forward from behind like an avalanche. When the door facing the fog-filled outside was flung open, the first to dart out was the woman—and there, she saw the shadow of a man pass beneath the dim, hazy streetlight ahead, rounding the warehouse corner toward the pier. “Just let me handle this my own way!”

The woman shook off the men trying to surge forward like an avalanche and clattered after the shadowy man.

When they rounded the warehouse corner, milky sea fog came blowing fiercely, laden with the briny tang of the shore. The man kept walking. After rounding several corners and arriving beside a herring warehouse near the fishing boat pier, he finally stopped. He glanced around timidly, then turned toward the woman who had rushed up silently behind him. This was no ghost—it was Komori Ankichi in the flesh. Drenched by fog or sea spray, he stood soaked through like a drowned rat. The woman threw herself at him as though leaping into empty air.

But the Ankichi who had returned alive was utterly changed from the Ankichi of before. In that brief time, the woman immediately understood it. “Don’t tell anyone I came back.” “Anyway, since you’re so unsettled, let’s go home—” the woman urged, but Ankichi once again darted his eyes around and...

“No, no—I’m being targeted. How could I go back home?” While cradling his wife’s shoulders with both hands as he rubbed them, he changed his tone. “Tokibo... has he grown?” “Well, you... but who’s after you?”

However, Ankichi did not answer this, “Ah, let me see Tokibo.” “I want to see the child so badly,” he said fearfully, looking around once more. “I can’t go home.” “I’ll be hiding here, so can you bring him to this spot?” “Then escape with me.” As his wife stood dumbfounded, unable to form words, Ankichi pressed on as if to drown her out. “It’s an unimaginable, terrifying conspiracy. “I’ve become terrified even of looking at the sea.” “Even being here like this is unbearable.” “Hey—quickly get ready to escape and bring Tokibo here.” “I’ll explain everything once we’re away.”

Her husband Ankichi, who had been thought to have sunk to the seafloor with Hokkai Maru and died, had returned with utter unexpectedness. And he told her to take their child and flee with him while being intensely fearful of someone—though how and where he had spent that year remained unclear. Overwhelmed by a simultaneous surge of astonishment, joy, and anxiety, the woman—who until moments before had been subsisting in stagnant resignation—found herself plunged into violent turmoil and hesitation.

However, before long, the woman left her husband’s side as if resolved and returned to their small second-floor rental home on the outskirts of town, just as she had been told. Half in a dreamlike state, she carried her child—still unsteady on his feet—on her back and bade an indirect farewell to the old woman downstairs who always looked after him. As she did these things, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Until now, Ankichi—the blustering man who had acted as he pleased, utterly disregarding his family—had suddenly returned and declared he would flee with his wife and child. What terrifying ordeal had he endured? There must be some grave reason behind this. The mere fact that he had returned alive from the sunken ship—that alone was already a tremendous secret. As she thought this through, the woman came to perceive her husband’s predicament as alarmingly urgent. After gathering their belongings, she hurried straight to the fog-shrouded pier.

As she walked, her suspicion and anxiety toward the secret enveloping Ankichi steadily intensified. No sooner had Ankichi’s words about an “unimaginably terrifying conspiracy” loomed vividly in her mind than Marutatsu’s warning of a “curse of the whales” resurfaced. These thoughts merged, and now she began to feel a direct, visceral dread for Ankichi himself as he stood exposed in his current state. However, that anxiety had been completely proven right. At that very moment, in the alley beside the herring warehouse, a horrific and irreversible tragedy was unfolding.

Avoiding the bar’s entrance, the woman retraced her path through the fog back to that spot. In the dim glow of the streetlamp there, she discovered Ankichi’s mangled form—drenched in blood and pressed against the warehouse’s plank wall like a shrine effigy. The whaling harpoon—that sharp, massive tool used to finish off whales—had nailed him to the wall like a moth pinned in a specimen box. As she drew near, he wrenched his voice from beneath death’s rattle,

“K-K-Kushiro Maru’s...” Groaning that far, he raised his blood-soaked right hand and scrawled on the plank wall before his eyes in black-glinting blood characters— —It’s the captain— He gasped convulsively as he wrote. Then he slumped over completely.

III

It was a full thirty minutes later that Nemuro’s water police officers pushed through the crowd of gawkers and rushed to the scene of the tragedy.

In the dimly lit, exposed area beside the warehouse, traces of a violent struggle remained. Before being nailed to the plank wall, Ankichi appeared to have endured considerable resistance—his entire body bore multiple stab wounds from the same harpoon. Having sustained severe hand injuries, he had inadvertently staggered toward the wall when the assailant delivered the final thrust from behind before fleeing outright. The removed corpse was immediately transferred to the coroner’s custody, yet it carried no belongings of note—not a single clue remained that might reveal where Ankichi had wandered or hint at the terrifying secret.

The woman who had now truly become a widow, Old Sailor Marutatsu, and the sailors who had first spotted Ankichi at the bar’s entrance were questioned right there on the spot. Marutatsu prattled on about only what he himself had witnessed, and when he ran out of explanations, he dragged out “the curse of the whales.” Taking their cue from him, the sailors spewed nothing but baseless conjectures of their own—utterly worthless. Yet through the testimony of Ankichi’s wife, their discontent was partly swept aside, and the police managed to grasp at least the surface contours of the incident.

Ankichi’s wife—her mind and spirit utterly overturned by the cascade of calamities—began recounting her husband’s death throes in a half-dreaming state, her words tumbling out without order. Yet as she pressed on, her emotions gradually steadied, and she found herself able to weave a coherent explanation—recounting her husband’s inexplicable fear toward some unseen threat upon his return, her own frantic preparations to flee, and all else besides.

Before long, emergency lines were being strung through the sea fog-shrouded darkness stretching from Nemuro town to the port.

When it came to the "Kushiro Maru" that Ankichi had left behind in his message—it was a sister ship of the same Iwakura Company, was it not? The very whaling ship that had rushed first to the rescue when Hokkai Maru sank last autumn. The captain of that vessel was Ankichi's murderer. Arrangements were promptly made, and a rigorous investigation commenced.

Then, from the Seamen’s Employment Office came a favorable report.

According to this report, immediately after the tragedy occurred, a burly man of captain’s rank wearing a large gray overcoat came seeking to recruit a harpooner．However，finding it after hours，he went around to the dormitory and hired one harpooner from among the unemployed sailors idling there．The captain appeared restless as though hiding something and kept concealing his face，but one sailor who eavesdropped on the hiring negotiations at the entrance distinctly heard the name of the boarding ship as *Kushiro Maru*．

Thereupon, the pier’s tenders were roused into action, and they began combing through every last one of them. However, whether the captain who had hired a new harpooner was still loitering on land or had come and gone aboard his own ship’s tender, not a single tender carrying such passengers had departed. Yet thanks to that investigation, another new report was obtained. It was reported that a trawler returning from the Kuril Islands—which had made port in the early evening—had seen the *Kushiro Maru* anchored in the thick offshore fog while being rocked by large swells.

The water police’s activities suddenly surged into action. By combining several reports that had been brought in, it became clear that the captain of the *Kushiro Maru*—who had killed Komori Ankichi—had quickly hired a harpooner from the sailors’ dormitory, boarded his ship’s tender, and returned to the *Kushiro Maru* waiting offshore.

Breaking through the obstinate sea fog, the water police’s motorboat vanished into the dark offshore, leaving a shrill engine roar in its wake.

However, the roar that had gradually faded into the distance began to thrum dully through the stagnant air once more after about ten minutes, swelling back louder. No sooner had this happened than it vanished into the offshore darkness to the right, sweeping a faint searchlight beam in a wide arc as it went. It vanished... but soon swung back to the left this time, and just when it seemed to return, it gave up and headed offshore once more…

The Kushiro Maru had long since weighed anchor.

IV

“Hey, Miyo-kō. Cheer up,” he said with a laugh.

The following afternoon.

Old Sailor Marutatsu lumbered into the bar—so rundown it looked disheveled even at night—and called out with a laugh to Ankichi’s Wife, who sat slumped in a corner, her eyes bloodshot from sleeplessness and clothes disarrayed as she nursed her child. “Well, just think of it as a bad dream and let it go.”

However, when the woman fell silent and did not respond, he turned toward the bar owner—who until then had been leaning on the counter, seemingly deep in conversation with her—and addressed him. “Did you see the water police’s grand retreat last night? Out at sea, they were just circling round and round in those big loops. Watching them had me so anxious I could’ve torn my hair out... Damn though, seems this thing’s shaping up to be a bigger mess than we figured.” “What on earth happened, I wonder?”

When the bar owner stepped forward, Marutatsu pulled up that rickety chair and sat down while—

“They were outmaneuvered by the Kushiro Maru, so this time they sent telegrams to patrol ships across the regions.” “Meaning they requested to have the Kushiro Maru seized on sight.” “Oh, so the case was transferred from the water police to the Fisheries Agency’s patrol ships then?” The bar owner stroked his unshaven beard. “Well, yeah, that’s about right… But with the sea being so vast, they still haven’t found it… Meanwhile, right after enlisting the patrol ships for the maritime search, the police went and raided President Iwakura’s office.” “But when the night watchman was dozing off and getting nowhere, they lost patience—so this time the police chief himself took charge, barged into the president’s residence, and demanded an immediate audience with President Iwakura… Up to that point, things went smoothly enough.” “But from there onward, things got complicated.” “Apparently President Iwakura—whether he sensed trouble brewing or what—started making excuses about a headache and tried to slip away.” “But well… in the end, he went to meet them. After hearing the full account from the police chief—all the details—his face suddenly went pale. All flustered for some reason, he said, ‘This must be some misunderstanding.” “‘The Kushiro Maru isn’t anywhere near Nemuro right now,’ he supposedly answered something like that.”

“Hmm, I see. That President Iwakura’s got nerves of steel… So which waters did he claim the Kushiro Maru’s fishing in now?” “Well now, seems they’ve been dispatched to their base at Ulleungdo Island off Korea. Makes sense—that’s prime Nagasu whale territory.” “Huh? But Ulleungdo’s way off in a different direction altogether.” “Anyway,” Marutatsu said, scrubbing his mouth with his knuckles, “by then the police chief already smelled something rotten in Iwakura’s story. But since he couldn’t pin him down right then, he pulled back for the time being. Right after retreating, they fired off a telegram to Ulleungdo.” “Whether Iwakura was lying through his teeth—and he surely was—they needed proof of his trickery. Had ’em investigate every nook and cranny.” “The reply came quick from the cops over there. Sure enough, Iwakura Company’s Kushiro Maru had been using that area as base for a month—just like he said. But here’s the kicker—it’s not there now.” “Been out fishing three days running and ain’t returned yet. Listen close—they set sail from that base two days before the murder happened. Once they’re out fishing, they’re lost in the wide blue.” “Where exactly they chased whales? How they hunted ’em? Whether they ever lingered near those waters at all? Hell if anyone saw a thing. Not even mighty President Iwakura can prove that.”

“This is getting more suspicious by the minute.” “Hmm, it’s not just that that’s suspicious. The problem is that the Kushiro Maru came to Nemuro port—thick with sea fog—on the very night of the incident. And not only that—they say she was anchored offshore in secret, trying to avoid being seen. Now that’s fishy. On top of that, when President Iwakura got a visit from the police chief about lookin’ into the Kushiro Maru, he went pale as a ghost and started actin’ all flustered—which makes the whole thing even fishier. In other words, President Iwakura also wants to hide the fact that the Kushiro Maru secretly returned to Nemuro, even though he claims it’s in the Sea of Japan. This guy’s completely ruined the police’s plans.”

“Of course that’s how it is,” the bar owner said, leaning back and crossing his arms. “With things like that, no wonder Iwakura’s prospects are looking grim… This thing’s really shaping up to be a major case. There’s something going on here. There’s something about that…” “Hmm, there’s plenty to it,” Marutatsu replied. “There’s definitely something here… See, what I’m thinkin’ is—when that Hokkai Maru sank, how’d Ankichi, the harpooner who survived, end up boardin’ the Kushiro Maru in the first place? That’s the real question… ’Course I ain’t never seen Ankichi on the Kushiro Maru out in the open. But last night, after the Kushiro Maru’s captain killed Ankichi and hired a replacement harpooner before vanishin’, well… the logic points that way—Ankichi must’ve been on that ship all along.”

“Wait a minute…” The bar owner tilted his head. “When the Hokkai Maru sank, the first to arrive was the Kushiro Maru… That’s it.” “Could it be Ankichi was picked up by the Kushiro Maru by sheer luck?”

Then Ankichi’s wife, who until now had been sitting vacantly as if drained of energy and listening to their conversation, raised her face and spoke.

"You." "If that's how it was... then why didn't Ankichi come home right away, happy he'd been rescued?" "Oh, that's exactly it!" Marutatsu burst out. "If he was rescued but didn't come straight back—I figure there's some tangled reason behind that." "Didn't want to return... or couldn't even if he wanted?" "Surely he wasn't... kept prisoner or—" The bar owner's face suddenly paled. "Hey, old man.... What actually sank the Hokkai Maru that time?"

“Huh? What did you say?” Marutatsu frowned and pondered for a moment. “...You’re not suggesting the Kushiro Maru intentionally sank the Hokkai Maru…? No, this is getting downright eerie… It must be—it’s gotta be the whale’s curse after all…” Having said that, he suddenly fell silent.

The front door opened, and two young sailors entered. They jerked their chins toward the chairs. Ankichi’s wife stood up with a vexed look and retreated to the back room, whereupon the bar owner straightened up and took drinks to the customers.

“However, old man.” “But how come you know so much about the police’s side of things again?”

The bar owner, having returned to his original seat, said this in an altered tone. Then Marutatsu, as if struck by inspiration, drew himself up proudly,

“Well… y’see… truth is, I’ll confess—startin’ tonight, I’m boardin’ a patrol ship to join the detectives searchin’ for Kushiro Maru.”

“What did you say? You’re boarding the patrol ship…” “Hmm, I was asked,” Marutatsu said pompously. “Truth is—just earlier today—the police sent a request my way.” “So I went and met this man Tōya.” “He’s apparently the director of a mainland fisheries research institute who’d come to Nemuro inspecting cod fishing grounds. When he caught wind of this case—whether he had some scheme or what—he got real fired up and volunteered to take charge.” “So he’s boarding the patrol ship being rerouted from Okhotsk tonight. They wanted someone who knows sailors’ faces inside out—that’s why yours truly here got called in.”

“Well now…” “That’s quite the step up in the world you’ve made.” “Yeah.” “But even if they let that Mr. Tōya catch Kushiro Maru, whether he’ll grasp the whale’s curse ain’t somethin’ to count on.” “Since I’m boardin’ the patrol ship too, this job’s got me fired up proper… Right—best get ready to ship out soon.” “Old man—sake!” “Bring the sake here!”

Strangely, his breathing grew rough.

V

The dawn of the North Pacific, beneath a sky neither clear nor cloudy, endlessly hazed the lead-colored sea with a faint, fragrant glow.

The patrol ship *Hayabune Maru*, which had departed Nemuro the previous night, maintained smooth progress through the swells with its foaming bow cutting through the waves. On the bridge, Mr. Tōya, the captain, Nemuro’s marine police chief, and Old Sailor Marutatsu fixed their intense gazes upon the distant sea. In the cabins on the middle deck, several armed police officers waited with bated breath. Amidst such vast oceanic expanse, could the Kushiro Maru truly be found? The prediction proved perfectly accurate as the Hayabune Maru continued its course through a long stretch of tense hours.

However, when they found a pod of whales in the distant waters ahead of the bow that afternoon—their magnificent spouts rising like rainbows—Mr. Tōya, who had until then stubbornly maintained an aimless course, abruptly changed his stance, and suddenly the Hayabune Maru set itself upon a fixed heading. “We’ve successfully found them.” “To ensure we don’t lose sight of that whale pod, track them from a distance.” Mr. Tōya continued to issue commands.

“Then, please send a wireless telegram.” “The message reads—‘To whaling ships: Large whale pod heading north-northeast near 152° East Longitude, 45° North Latitude.’ Though it’s not *that* large a pod,” Mr. Tōya said, laughing, “Oh yes—while you’re at it, set the sender as ‘cargo ship *Etorofu Maru*.’” “Etorofu Maru was a good choice, wasn’t it?”

The captain gave a wry smile. “Well, in situations like this, deception is a necessary evil. The captain of the Kushiro Maru has hired a replacement harpooner—if he hears about whales, he won’t stay idle.” Before long, the ship drastically reduced its speed and began trailing the intermittently visible whale pod, targeting the distant forest of rising spouts. The ship’s speed slowed to a sluggish crawl, but the tension aboard grew ever more acute, sharpening to a razor’s edge. Mr. Tōya scanned the horizon through binoculars in steady circles before taking a breath and turning to the Marine Police Chief,

“Regarding that maximum speed of the Kushiro Maru we asked about last night.” “That’s definitely twelve knots, correct?”

“There’s no mistake.” The police chief said with an air of importance.

Mr. Tōya nodded, then turned to the captain, “Taking the shortest route from Ulleungdo to Nemuro—is it even 800 nautical miles?” “Well... “It’s probably more than that.” “850... 860 nautical miles, would it be?” “However, that’s the literal shortest distance. As for practical shipping routes, they may become longer than that, but never shorter.” “Ah, I see.”

Mr. Tōya peered through the binoculars once more. When sunlight streamed through a break in the clouds, the forest of spouts rose vividly into view. Apparently, it was a pod of sperm whales returning north with their calves. The ship continued gliding quietly, riding a steady rhythm.

Before long, after about an hour had passed, the wireless’s effect became unmistakably clear. No sooner had a lone black speck of a ship appeared far off the starboard bow than it rapidly swelled into a whaling vessel and—having likely detected the whale pod—turned its prow toward the forest of spouts with astonishing speed. “Now then, to avoid alerting that ship, slow down even more—make it a significant reduction.”

The Hayabune Maru slowed its speed almost to a halt. The people held their breath and peered through their binoculars. The whaling ship swiftly closed in on the pod of whales, and with a puff of white smoke from its bow, a massive sperm whale’s tail fluke leaped and twisted from the sea in an instant, sending up a violent spray. —However, the people lowered their binoculars with wry smiles.

That ship was not the Kushiro Maru.

“Well, it can’t be helped. But are there any violations?”

“Well, take a look for yourself.” “There seems to be no mistake.” Before long, the whaling ship retreated calmly, having bound several large catches to both sides like buoys.

The whale pod surfaced again and began to advance. The Hayabune Maru once again continued its patient pursuit.

However, even after an hour, the second whaling ship did not appear. A shadow of unease suddenly flickered across Mr. Tōya’s brow.—If the Kushiro Maru didn’t arrive as things stood now, night would fall. If night fell, they would inevitably lose sight of the crucial target whale pod. Mr. Tōya began to grow increasingly impatient.

However, after just thirty more minutes more had passed, that anxiety was completely wiped away. Off the port side at a diagonal forward finally appeared the gray whaling ship distinctive of Iwakura Company. In their carelessness—by the time the captain first noticed it—the ship was already closing in on the whale pod with killer whale-like swiftness.

The Hayabune Maru hurriedly reduced its speed. Fortunately, they seemed too preoccupied with their prey to notice us. As the approaching ship drew ever nearer, they saw a circle mark dancing on its black funnel, while on its hull, the unmistakable three characters of *Kushiro Maru* were vividly glistening with spray. Boom… Already, white smoke erupted from the harpoon gun at the bow of the Kushiro Maru. Mr. Tōya gave the signal. The Hayabune Maru darted off like an arrow.

“Oh?” The captain stiffened. “That bastard’s doing it—they’re calf whaling!” “It’s likely a habitual practice,” Mr. Tōya said. Aboard the Kushiro Maru, the harpoon line clattered onto the winch as a calf whale bobbed to the surface. At that moment, the man on the foremast watchtower waved his hand and shouted—he’d noticed the approaching Hayabune Maru. With that, the Kushiro Maru began veering sharply to port with a powerful jerk.

The "Halt Order" signal flag slid smoothly up Hayabune Maru's foremast. The Hayabune Maru was a sixteen-knot ship. —The whaling ship had been defeated without a fight.

As they drew closer, the whale pod was larger than they had imagined. As the Hayabune Maru pulled alongside the Kushiro Maru—which had resignedly come to a stop amidst the whales still wandering without fleeing—Mr. Tōya, the police chief, and Marutatsu led the charge as officers swarmed aboard. The sailors of the Kushiro Maru, upon seeing the excessively grand show of force that seemed too elaborate for a mere illegal crackdown, began to panic terribly. But they were immediately surrounded by the police officers.

Mr. Tōya, accompanied by the police chief and Marutatsu, hurried up to the ship’s bridge. There, a man who appeared to be the driver was floundering in his attempt to escape, but Mr. Tōya—

“Bring out the captain!” Mr. Tōya shouted. “I don’t know!” The driver shook his head and leapt down to the deck. But there, a struggle with the police officers immediately broke out. Watching this scene unfold, Mr. Tōya began searching for the captain while forcefully dragging along Marutatsu, who had somehow become completely dazed.

When they couldn’t find him in the captain’s cabin or the radio room, Mr. Tōya descended from the bridge and rushed into the officers’ quarters on the aft deck. But he wasn’t there. In the mess hall immediately above, there were no human figures.—Now, above this, only the bow’s crew quarters remained.

Mr. Tōya, accompanied by Marutatsu and the police chief, descended the forward deck’s gangway and stood before the dimly lit door to the crew quarters. When he listened closely, sure enough, human breathing could be heard. Mr. Tōya swiftly flung the door open.—With a clang, the man inside collided with a lamp, casting a large swaying shadow as he recoiled backward. But in the next instant, when Marutatsu saw the captain—pressed flat against the wall beyond the violently swaying hanging lamp, eyes glaring, teeth clenched, right hand gripping a large harpoon poised to thrust—he let out an inhuman “Uwaaa!” and clung to Mr. Tōya. The harpoon flew past, grazing a head before thudding into the back wall. But as the pistol glinted in the police chief’s hand and the click of handcuffs snapping shut was heard immediately, Marutatsu let out a trembling cry.

“Th-that man—he’s the captain of the Hokkai Maru who was supposed to be dead!” he gulped audibly, breathing raggedly through his shoulders. “A-and that’s not all… No, I’ve thought something was off since earlier—that driver too, and the sailors caught on deck—ah, they’re all crew members from the Hokkai Maru who should’ve drowned!” “Wh-what did you say?” The captain of the Hayabune Maru, who had rushed in afterward, turned pale and shouted. “That’s preposterous! “Then, if that’s really true, what happened to the crew of the Kushiro Maru?”

At that moment, Mr. Tōya, who had remained silent until now, turned around and said abruptly.

“The Kushiro Maru is in the Sea of Japan.” “Huh?!” The captain became flustered.

“Ah, you’re absolutely right,” Mr. Tōya said, suddenly shaking his head as if embarrassed. “No, I must say—it’s nothing… You’ve repeatedly stated that the Kushiro Maru’s maximum speed is twelve knots, haven’t you? That’s precisely the issue. Well, just consider—according to reports from Ulleungdo police, that twelve-knot Kushiro Maru set sail from that island’s base two days before the murder, correct?… However, the shortest distance from Ulleungdo to Nemuro is 850 nautical miles. Therefore, even if the Kushiro Maru were running at maximum speed, well… it would take seventy hours—a full three days… You see? In other words, the ship that entered Nemuro on the night of the murder absolutely cannot be the Kushiro Maru.”

The captain turned as white as paper and gasped out.

“Then… what exactly is this ship?”

“This ship is the Hokkai Maru—the one that was supposed to have sunk near the Japan Trench last autumn.”

“...” When everyone fell silent in utter dismay, Mr. Tōya began to speak as he started climbing the gangway. “No—this is the greatest incident in whaling history since its inception… Truthfully, even I was only eighty percent certain until having Mr. Marutatsu here identify the captain… Captain.” “The legal limit for whaling ships was thirty vessels.” “No—this is my own constructed theory—President Iwakura increased his fleet from two vessels, which was the legal limit, to three.” “In other words, he conspired with executive crew members to stage the fake sinking of the Hokkai Maru a year ago.” “On that stormy night, after altering the ship’s nameplate to disguise the Hokkai Maru as its sister ship Kushiro Maru, they discharged oil and coal dust into the sea, transmitted fake wireless signals, then—posing as the Kushiro Maru rushing to rescue—spent two or three days coolly searching for their own phantom alongside Salvage Association vessels… Utterly shameless… Eventually, they registered Hokkai Maru’s sinking with the Maritime Bureau… In fact, I believe this newly constructed Hokkai Maru was likely built using insurance money from its predecessor… Thus, Iwakura Company outwardly operated two legally permitted whaling ships while actually using three—even evading taxes on one—to boost efficiency… However, since this Kushiro Maru was counterfeit, they forbade entering port or disembarking near Nemuro, fearing crew members might leak secrets.” “Of course, the sailors—being rough men—didn’t care about Nemuro as long as they got money.” “A whale worth a thousand yen per head was far more profitable—well, that’s how nearly a year passed.” “…But here’s the problem: unlike unmarried sailors, there was Komori—the harpooner with a wife and child in Nemuro. Of course, he likely felt the same as others at first. Yet as days passed, homesickness took root.” “However, the captain, sensing danger, refused to let him return to his family.” “But rising emotions—those can’t be suppressed forever… Seizing their approach near Nemuro to fish, Komori finally ran away…”

“Hmm,” the captain spoke for the first time. “I see. So that tragedy was caused by the captain who tracked them down… No, I understand completely.” “That’s remarkably astute of you indeed.” The captain stood on the deck and looked around once more. In the sea, the large whales were still circling around the ship without fleeing. It was a strange scene. In the bow cannon of the captured whaling ship, the second harpoon meant to strike those large whales remained loaded. The cunning captain had secretly ordered Ankichi to engage in prohibited calf whaling for years—all to easily capture those peculiar whales.

When calf whales are present, parent whales move slowly. Like Ankichi had done a year earlier, they would never dream of abandoning their young.

(“Shin Seinen” October 1936 issue)