Pathway to Japanese Literature

I “If he landed one good shot with that harpoon, that meant thirty yen straight in his pocket.” Whenever she drank herself into a stupor, the woman would start saying this to the sailors as she launched into stories about her dead husband. Her husband had been a harpooner aboard the whaling ship Hokkaimaru named Komori Yasukichi. True to her words, when he was alive, every time he sank a harpoon into a whale’s flesh, he’d received extra bonuses on top of his pay. But after he’d gotten caught in a storm about a year ago and disappeared along with Hokkaimaru’s sinking, she’d quickly blown through what little money remained and ended up working at a portside bar. A harpooner ranked high among a whaling ship’s crew. Unlike ordinary deckhands, he’d managed—just barely—to support his family on those earnings. The couple had one child between them. Whenever she started complaining about her lot in life only to remember that child waiting back home, she’d suddenly fall silent as if sobered up and let out a heavy sigh.

At first, her husband’s death had felt like an unreal dream, but as half a year turned to a full year, that disbelief gradually sharpened into stark clarity. Now, working for her child’s sake and losing herself in drunken tales—neither boasts nor laments, just old stories—had become her sole comfort.

The Hokkaimaru was a Norwegian-style whaling ship of just under two hundred tons, belonging to the small limited partnership Iwakura Whaling Company. According to the ship registry's records, Hokkaimaru's sinking was dated October 7th. That day was a cursed one when the season’s first storm swept across the North Pacific. Chasing a whale pod migrating north on the Oyashio Current, the Hokkaimaru was engulfed by a storm near the northern edge of the Japan Trench, where the waters took on an ominous gray hue.

The first to receive the distress signal was the Kushiro-maru—a sister ship to Hokkaimaru under the same Iwakura Company, similarly engaged in whaling at a point no more than twenty nautical miles from Hokkaimaru. In addition to Kushiro-maru, among the steamships navigating nearby were two cargo ships that had picked up the distress signal. However, the disaster site shrouded in sea fog had great depth, fierce currents, and was so devastated that approaching it was utterly impossible.

The small ship Hokkaimaru flooded rapidly and sank abruptly. By the time the Maritime Rescue Association’s rescue ship rushed to the scene, Hokkaimaru’s silhouette had already vanished. On the sea surface thick with drifting coal dust and oil, only Kushiro-maru—the first to arrive—remained, tossed by violent waves and wandering helplessly without recourse.

According to the S.O.S., the cause of the disaster was neither a collision, nor grounding, nor any contact. It was merely that uncontrolled flooding had grown severe, persistent rapid tilting continued, and it sank just like that. However, why Hokkaimaru—a ship not yet aged enough to be called decrepit—had been struck by such severe flooding despite it being an autumn storm could not be determined even from the signals transmitted by the sinking vessel itself. The investigation was continued through the efforts of the rescue ship and Kushiro-maru. But even after several days had passed since the storm subsided, Hokkaimaru was not discovered.

Since then, a year had already passed.

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

“If he landed one good shot, that was thirty yen profit right there.” As night brought its bone-chilling cold, the bar where they’d already lit the small Daruma stove once again heard the woman’s complaints begin that evening.

“Humans... you can’t rely on them... right? Isn’t that so? Old man Marudane…” “Everyone, it’s the curse of the whales.” The old sailor who appeared to be a harbor laborer called Marudane wearily raised his alcohol-reddened eyes as he surveyed the people and spoke. “It’s the curse of the whales. It’s because they harpoon the calves.” “Old man. Norwegians again?” A man who appeared to be a trawler sailor jeered.

The curse of the whales—yet this was not merely old man Marudane’s belief alone; it had already been a persistent rumor among the relatively older folk of Nemuro Port regarding the cause of Hokkaimaru’s sinking, circulating since those very days. It was a legend that had been passed down by those very people since the days when Norwegian harpooners were still employed on Japanese whaling ships.

"Whaling ships that harpoon whale calves will inevitably be cursed." The religiously inclined foreigners who declared this feared and refused to harpoon whale calves. Moreover, even without that superstition, the harpooning of whale calves had been strictly prohibited by law for cetacean protection. To prevent even the overhunting of adult whales, the government had restricted whaling ship construction to no more than thirty vessels nationwide. However, there were occasional reports of whaling ships secretly engaging in calf-harpooning beyond patrol vessels' sightlines to boost hunting efficiency.

Nemuro's Iwakura Company had been permitted two vessels. Hokkaimaru and Kushiro-maru were those two. And on evenings when the sea fog cleared，there would occasionally be fishing boats returning from the Kuril Islands that inadvertently discovered carcasses of whale calves drifting off Etorofu Island’s coast，pecked at by multitudes of dolphins. In Marudane’s parlance，having incurred this whale’s curse，Hokkaimaru had sunk. And now，a year’s time had already passed. Iwakura Company，undeterred by the loss，promptly built a new second Hokkaimaru and continued its vigorous operations.

Whenever the harpooner’s widow, drunk on sake, began grumbling to the customers, old man Marudane 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 awkwardly strained, and they all would make unpleasant faces and sink into gloom as was usual.

Tonight as well, in the end, it arrived.

The sea fog blowing in from the ocean blurred Nemuro’s town into a milky coldness, and frost-like water vapor formed on the bar’s glass windows. Surrounding a stove glowing bright red, the people drank their sake as if suddenly remembering. The liquor was thoroughly chilled. Outside, a chilly wind whistled through the power lines, and the engines of night-fishing boats thudded on and on.

It was an uncannily quiet sea fog night. The people fell completely silent and continued drinking bitter liquor.

However, that strained desolation did not last long.

It was an entirely unexpected event: until now, the harpooner’s widow had been absently surveying the faces around her while emitting alcohol-tinged sighs, but suddenly she stood up with a violent clatter of scattered objects, tilting the table as she rose. Her complexion turned ashen like earth, and her eyes—wide with terror—burned as they fixed upon the entrance door.

On the glass door there, damp with condensation, a ghostly shadow was reflected.—A shadow-like man with his rubberized waterproof coat collar upturned and an identical waterproof cap pulled low pressed himself against the glass door from outside. Thrusting forward a bearded face bristling with unkempt growth, he surveyed the interior with sunken golden eyes that darted furtively as if in fear. But when his gaze collided with that of the woman who had just stood up, he jerked his chin surreptitiously—as though signaling—and vanished into the darkness outside.

That was Komori Yasukichi—the harpooner of the sunken ship Hokkaimaru, who was supposed to be dead.

II Inside the bar, everyone rose to their feet. “Isn’t that your husband?” Marudane said in a completely sober tone.

A young sailor, in a trembling voice, “A case of mistaken identity, perhaps?” “No—it’s no case of mistaken identity.” “I know every single man who’s ever come and gone in Nemuro—now or in the past.” Marudane stood up and declared, “That guy—it’s definitely Hokkaimaru’s Yasukichi.” “So he survived after all?” “So he survived and came back now?” But soon, the woman ran out toward the entrance without saying a word. The people too surged forth like an avalanche from behind. When the door facing the fog-filled outside was swiftly opened, the woman who rushed out first saw the shadow of a man passing under the faintly white, blurred streetlight ahead and rounding the warehouse corner toward the wharf.

“Just let me handle this my way!” The woman shook off the men trying to surge forth like an avalanche and clattered after the shadowy man. When they rounded the warehouse corner, the milky sea fog swept in fiercely, carrying the briny scent of the shore. The man kept walking. After turning several corners and arriving beside a herring warehouse near the fishing boat wharf, the man finally stopped, looked around timidly, and turned toward the woman who had silently rushed up to him.

That was neither a ghost nor anything else—it was the genuine Komori Yasukichi. Whether soaked by fog or drenched by sea spray, he was drenched through like a rat. The woman lunged forward as if leaping at him and clung to him.

However, the Yasukichi who had returned alive was utterly different from the Yasukichi of before. In that brief moment, the woman immediately understood it.

“Don’t tell anyone I came back.” “Anyway, since you can’t settle down, let’s go home—” the woman urged, but Yasukichi once again looked around restlessly. “No, no! I’m being targeted. There’s no way I can go back home!” While cradling his wife’s shoulders with both hands, he changed his tone: “Has Tokibo grown?” “Well, you... but who on earth is targeting you?”

However, Yasukichi did not answer that, “Ah, let me see Tokibo. I desperately want to see the child,” he said, looking around fearfully once more. “There’s absolutely no way I can go home. I’ll hide here—can you bring him to this spot? Then we’ll escape together.” As his wife stood stunned and hesitant, unable to string words together, Yasukichi pressed on urgently: “It’s a monstrous conspiracy—terrifying. I’ve grown afraid even to look at the sea now... This limbo’s unbearable. Hey—hurry! Prepare to flee and bring Tokibo here. I’ll explain everything once we’re safe.”

Her husband Yasukichi, who had been thought to have sunk to the bottom of the sea with Hokkaimaru and died, had returned completely unexpectedly. And he urged them to take the child and flee together while intensely fearing someone—how he had spent the past year, where he had been, or what he had done. With surprise, joy, and anxiety all rushing in at once, the woman—who until moments ago had been living in stagnant resignation—was thrown into violent turmoil and hesitation.

However, before long, the woman—as if having resolved herself—left her husband’s side and returned to the small rented two-story house on the outskirts of town as she was told. And in a half-dreamlike state, as she carried her child—who still couldn’t walk properly—on her back and bid an inconspicuous farewell to the old woman downstairs who usually looked after the child, she gradually began to comprehend the situation.

Until now, Yasukichi—a blusterer who had paid no heed to his family and acted as he pleased—had suddenly returned declaring he would flee with his wife and child; what terrible ordeal had he endured? There must have been some profound circumstances behind this. The mere fact that he had returned alive from a sunken ship was already a significant secret. As she thought more about it, the woman came to perceive her husband’s situation as abnormally dire; gathering their belongings, she hurried straight to the fog-shrouded wharf.

As she walked, her suspicion and anxiety about the secret enveloping Yasukichi grew steadily—just as Yasukichi’s mention of a “monstrous, terrifying conspiracy” loomed starkly in her mind, Marudane’s warning of a “curse of the whales” resurfaced—and together these thoughts coalesced into a direct fear for Yasukichi’s very being as he stood there now.

However, that anxiety had proven entirely correct. At that very moment, in the alley beside the herring warehouse, a horrific and irreversible tragedy had unfolded. The woman—who had avoided passing in front of the bar and retraced her steps along the fog’s path back to that spot—found in the dim light cast by the streetlamp the gruesome figure of Yasukichi: covered in blood and clinging to the warehouse plank wall like a shrine guardian. With the sharp, large hand harpoon used to deliver whales’ killing blows, Yasukichi had been nailed to the plank wall like a moth pierced by an insect pin in a specimen box. When the woman drew close, he desperately strained his voice from beneath his death throes—

“Guh... guh... Kushiro-maru’s...” After groaning that far, he raised his bloodied right hand and, in glistening black blood, wrote on the plank wall before his eyes— —Captain— he gasped out as he scrawled it. And then, he collapsed completely.

Three

It was a full thirty minutes later that Nemuro’s water police officers pushed through the crowd of onlookers 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, Yasukichi appeared to have endured a prolonged fight—his entire body bore multiple stab wounds from the same hand harpoon. Having sustained severe injuries to his hands and inadvertently staggering against the plank wall, Yasukichi was then struck with the final blow from behind, after which the culprit immediately fled.

The removed corpse was immediately transferred to the coroner’s hands, but there were no belongings whatsoever, and not a single clue remained to tell of where or how Yasukichi had wandered—nothing that spoke of the terrifying secret.

The woman who had now truly become a widow, old man Marudane, and the sailors who first saw Yasukichi at the bar entrance underwent preliminary questioning on the spot. Marudane blathered on about only what he had seen, but when he could no longer make sense of things beyond that, he invoked the “curse of the whales.” Following his lead, the sailors similarly spread nothing but baseless speculations, which proved utterly useless. However, through Yasukichi’s wife’s testimony, this frustration was partially dispelled, and the police officers began to piece together at least a rough outline of the incident.

Yasukichi’s wife—completely upended in both mind and spirit by the overlapping abnormal events—began describing her husband’s death throes in a dreamlike state, her words tumbling out incoherently. Yet as she continued speaking and gradually calmed, she found herself able to explain matters coherently: first drawing forth her resurrected husband’s inexplicable attitude of fearing some unknown entity, then recounting her own frantic escape preparations—managing at last to piece together a complete account.

Before long, from Nemuro town to the harbor, a cordon was being set up within the darkness enveloped in sea fog. As for the "Kushiro-maru" that Yasukichi had mentioned—it was a sister ship of the same Iwakura Company, and wasn’t it the whaling vessel that had rushed to the rescue when Hokkaimaru sank last autumn? The captain of that ship was Yasukichi’s murderer. The orders were promptly executed, and a rigorous investigation was launched.

Then, from the seamen’s employment office came a prompt and favorable report.

According to the report, immediately after the tragedy occurred, a burly man of captain’s rank in a large gray overcoat came to recruit a harpooner; but finding it after hours, he made his way to the dormitory and hired one from among the unemployed seamen idling there. The captain appeared restless, as if something had happened, and kept his face hidden, but a sailor who overheard the hiring negotiations at the entrance distinctly caught the name of the boarding ship as Kushiro-maru.

There, the tender boats at the wharf were roused and inspected from end to end in a thorough search. However, whether the captain who had hired the new harpooner was still loitering on land or had come and gone using his ship’s tender boat, not a single tender carrying such passengers had departed—yet thanks to this inspection, another new report was brought to light. It was reported that a trawler returning from the Kuril Islands, which had made port in the early evening, saw the Kushiro-maru anchored in the deep offshore shrouded in dense sea fog as it rocked in large swells.

The activities of the Water Police Department suddenly gained momentum. By compiling several reports that had been brought in, it became clear that the captain of the Kushiro-maru—who had killed Komori Yasukichi—had hired a harpooner from the seamen’s dormitory and promptly boarded his ship’s tender boat to return to the Kushiro-maru, which had been waiting offshore.

Breaking through the persistent sea fog, the Water Police’s motorboat disappeared into the dark offshore, leaving behind a deafening roar.

However, the engine roar that had been gradually fading into the distance—for some reason—after about ten minutes began to swell back again with a thudding reverberation that shook the thick, stagnant air. Then, just as one registered this, it flashed the faint beam of a searchlight toward the open sea to the right and vanished while tracing a large arc. It vanished, but soon swung back to the left this time; just as it seemed to return, without lingering, it headed offshore again…

The Kushiro-maru had already pulled up anchor long ago.

Four

“Hey, Miyo-kō. Cheer up!”

The following afternoon. To the rundown bar that looked disheveled even at night, Marudane lumbered in. In a corner of the place, he called out with a laugh to Yasukichi’s wife—her eyes red and clouded from sleeplessness, her clothes disheveled as she nursed her child while slumped in dejection—uttering those words. “Well, just think of it as a bad dream and put it out of your mind.” However, when the woman remained silent and did not respond, he turned toward the bar owner—who had been leaning on the counter and deep in conversation with her until then—and addressed him.

“Did you see the Water Police’s frantic chase last night?” “Out there circling endlessly on the open sea.” “Watching it made me anxious enough... No—actually, seems this thing’s shaping up to be a bigger case than we thought.” “What in blazes happened?” When the bar owner leaned closer, Marudane dragged over that rickety chair and sat down, “They let Kushiro-maru slip clean away, so this time they wired patrol vessels nationwide.” “Meaning they asked ’em to nab Kushiro-maru on sight.”

“Ah, so the case has been referred from the Water Police to the Fisheries Agency’s patrol vessels, then?” The bar owner stroked his unkempt beard. “Well, yeah, that’s about right… But the sea’s vast, so they still haven’t found it… Meanwhile, the police—after entrusting the maritime side to the patrol vessels—raided Mr. Iwakura’s office right away.” “But when the night duty clerk was half-asleep and getting nowhere, they lost patience—this time the police chief himself took charge, stormed into the president’s residence, and demanded to meet Mr. Iwakura directly... Up to this point, things were manageable.” “But from this point on, things got complicated.” “Apparently, President Iwakura—perhaps sensing that things were getting complicated—started complaining of a headache or something and tried to flee.” “But well, in the end, when he went to meet him and finished hearing the whole story—about this and that—his face suddenly paled, and all flustered-like, he said, ‘That’s some kind of mistake.’” “‘The Kushiro-maru isn’t anywhere near Nemuro right now,’ he answered something like that.”

“Hmm, I see. That president’s quite the hard-nosed one... So which waters did he say the Kushiro-maru’s out whaling in now?”

“Well, as for that—apparently it’s been dispatched to their base at Ulleungdo Island off the Korean coast.” “Indeed—that area’s the primary habitat for Nagasu whales after all.” “Huh? But even so, Ulleungdo Island’s in a completely different direction, isn’t it?” “Well, anyway,” said Marudane, vigorously rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, “by that point, the Police Chief already thought President Iwakura’s account sounded fishy—but since he couldn’t properly resolve things on the spot, he decided to withdraw for the time being.” “After withdrawing, they immediately sent a telegraph to Ulleungdo Island.” “They had to determine whether what President Iwakura said was true or a lie—no, it must have been a lie—but they suspected some trickery there, so they had it thoroughly investigated to get proof of the falsehood.” “The reply came immediately from the police there.” “But here’s the thing—first off, just as President Iwakura said, it’s true that the Iwakura Company’s Kushiro-maru has been using this area as its base for about a month now. However, it isn’t here anymore.” “It’s been out fishing for about three days now and still hasn’t returned.” “Listen—in other words, they’re saying it departed from its base two days before the incident happened yesterday.” “Since it went out fishing, it headed out into the open sea.” “As for where on the seas they were whaling or how they did it—whether they were actually wandering around those waters chasing whales—I tell ya, there’s no one who saw a thing. So even President Iwakura can’t prove it.”

“It’s getting more and more suspicious.”

“Hmm, it’s not just that part that’s suspicious. The problem is that Kushiro-maru came to Nemuro Port—shrouded in thick sea fog—on the night of the incident and had been stealthily lurking offshore to avoid being seen. This whole thing’s downright fishy. On top of that, when President Iwakura received a visit from the Police Chief about investigating Kushiro-maru, he suddenly turned pale and started acting all flustered—which makes the whole thing downright suspicious. In other words, President Iwakura wants to conceal as much as possible that Kushiro-maru secretly returned to Nemuro after claiming it was in the Japan Sea. This completely dashed the police’s prospects.”

“Well, of course,” said the bar owner, leaning back and crossing his arms, “with things like that, it’s no wonder Iwakura’s prospects are crumbling… This thing’s indeed shaping up to be a major case.” “There’s something going on.” “There’s something going on there…” “Hmm, there’s plenty to it.” “There’s definitely something to it… Honestly, in my thinking, the first problem is why Yasukichi—the harpooner who survived when Hokkaimaru sank—ended up boarding the Kushiro-maru of all ships… Of course, I never saw Yasukichi openly serving on Kushiro-maru. But last night, after the captain of Kushiro-maru—the one who killed Yasukichi—hired a replacement harpooner and vanished, well… the logic points to Yasukichi having been aboard Kushiro-maru all along.”

“Wait a minute…” At that moment, the bar owner tilted his head and said, “When the Hokkaimaru sank, the first to arrive was the Kushiro-maru… That’s right. Yasukichi was luckily rescued by the Kushiro-maru, wasn’t he?”

Then Yasukichi’s wife, who until now had been listening to their conversation in a dazed and unfocused manner, raised her face and spoke. “You.” “Then why didn’t Yasukichi come home happy if he’d been rescued right then?”

“Ah, that’s exactly it!” Marudane burst out. “Even if he was rescued, him not comin’ back straight away makes me think there’s some intricate circumstances at play there.” “Did he not want to return… Or couldn’t he return even if he wanted?” “You don’t mean he was held captive…” The bar owner’s face abruptly stiffened. “Hey, old man… Why—what really made Hokkaimaru sink?”

“Huh? What’re you saying?” Marudane scowled and pondered for a moment. “…You don’t mean Kushiro-maru intentionally sank Hokkaimaru… No—this is turning into one creepy story… It’s gotta be the curse of the whales after all…” Having said that, he suddenly fell silent.

The front door opened, and two young sailors came in. They sat down on chairs and jerked their chins. When Yasukichi’s wife stood up with an annoyed look and retreated to the back, the bar owner straightened himself and took sake over to the customers.

“But, old man—how’d you get to know the police’s business in such detail again?”

The bar owner, having returned to his original seat, said this in a changed tone. Then Marudane, as if struck by an idea, struck a pose with dignity, “Well, that’s the thing… Actually, I’ll confess—starting tonight, I’m joining the detectives aboard the patrol vessel to search for the Kushiro-maru.” “What the—?” “You’re joining the patrol vessel—”

“Well, I was asked,” Marudane said pompously. “Actually, the police just sent a request to me earlier.” “So I went and met this guy named Higashiya.” “He was apparently the director of the Mainland Fisheries Research Institute—he’d come to Nemuro to inspect the cod fishing grounds around that time. When he heard about this incident—whether he had some scheme in mind or not—he got real fired up and volunteered to take charge.” “So I’m boarding the patrol vessel being rerouted from Okhotsk tonight—they wanted someone who knows sailors’ faces inside out, which is why yours truly here got called in.”

“Well, well…” “That’s quite the promotion you’ve landed.” “Yeah.” “But even if that Higashiya fellow catches Kushiro-maru, whether he’ll grasp the whale’s curse is anyone’s guess.” “Since I’m boarding the patrol vessel too, this job’s got real stakes… Right, time to get ready.” “Old man! Sake.” “Bring the sake!”

His breathing grew strangely rough.

V

The North Pacific dawn, under a sky that could not be discerned as clear or cloudy, rendered the leaden sea endlessly hazy, faintly fragrant in its dim glow.

The patrol vessel Hayabusa-maru, which had departed Nemuro the previous night, cut through swells with its foaming bow and maintained a gliding pace. On the bridge were Mr. Higashiya, the captain, the Nemuro Water Police Chief, and Marudane and the old men, all casting intent gazes out to the distant sea. In the middle deck’s cabin, several armed police officers waited on edge, holding their breath.

In the middle of such a vast sea, could the Kushiro-maru truly be discovered? That prediction proved spot-on, and Hayabusa-maru spent a long, tense time just like that. Yet when afternoon came and they discovered a whale pod ahead of the distant bow—continuously spouting rainbow-like mist through their blowholes—Mr.Higashiya’s attitude, which had until now persisted without clear direction, underwent an abrupt shift. Suddenly Hayabusa-maru set upon a fixed course. “We’ve discovered them successfully. Please follow that whale pod from a distance to ensure we don’t lose sight of them.”

Mr. Higashiya continued issuing commands. “Then send a wireless telegram.” “The message reads: ‘To whaling ships—Large whale pod present near 152° East longitude, 45° North latitude, moving north-northeast.’ Though it’s not actually that large,” Mr. Higashiya added with a laugh. “Oh—and set the sender as ‘cargo ship Etorofu Maru.’” “Etorofu Maru was a good choice.” The captain gave a wry smile. “Well—in situations like this, lies become necessary tools.” “The Kushiro-maru’s captain hired a replacement harpooner—he won’t sit idle when he hears about whales.”

Before long, the ship drastically reduced its speed and, using the distant rising forest of spouts as its guide, began trailing the intermittently visible whale pod. The ship’s speed slowed to a sluggish crawl, but the tension aboard grew ever sharper, flooding through the vessel.

Mr. Higashiya had been scanning the horizon in sweeping arcs with a pair of binoculars, but after taking a breath, he turned to the Water Police Chief and,

“Regarding that maximum speed of the Kushiro-maru we discussed last night.” “That was indeed twelve knots, correct?” “There’s no mistake.” The Chief said pompously.

Mr. Higashiya nodded as he turned to the captain,

“Is it even eight hundred nautical miles from Ulleungdo to Nemuro if taking the shortest route?” “Well...” “It’s probably more than that.” “Is it even eight hundred... fifty or sixty nautical miles?” “However, that’s the literal shortest distance. As for practical navigation routes—they may become longer than that, but never shorter.” “Ah, I see.”

Mr. Higashiya peered through the binoculars again.

Sunlight streamed through a break in the clouds, and the forest of spouts stood out vividly. Apparently, it was a pod of sperm whales returning northward with their calves. The ship continued gliding quietly, moving to a pleasant rhythm.

Before long, after about an hour, the effect of the wireless telegraphy became strikingly apparent. At first, a solitary black speck of a ship appeared far off the starboard bow; it swiftly grew larger, revealing itself as a whaling vessel that—having perhaps spotted the whale pod—turned its prow toward the forest of spouts and surged forward with remarkable speed.

“Now, to avoid being noticed by that ship, please slow down even more—much more.” Hayabusa-maru reduced its speed almost to the point of stopping. The people watched through their binoculars with bated breath. The whaling ship swiftly closed in on the whale pod. Almost immediately, a burst of white smoke erupted from its bow—and from the sea, a massive sperm whale’s tail flukes momentarily thrashed upward, sending violent spray cascading. However, the people removed their binoculars with bitter smiles. That ship was not the Kushiro-maru.

“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it. But are there any violations?”

“Well, just take a look.” “It seems certain, you know.”

Before long, the whaling ship, having bound several large catches to both its sides like flotation devices, leisurely made its way back. The whale pod surfaced again and began to move. Hayabusa-maru once again continued its patient pursuit. However, even after one hour passed, the second whaling ship did not appear. A shadow of unease suddenly flickered across Mr. Higashiya’s brow.—If the Kushiro-maru didn’t arrive as things stood, night would come. If night came, they would inevitably lose sight of the crucial target whale pod. Mr. Higashiya began to grow impatient.

However, after about thirty minutes, that anxiety was splendidly wiped away. Off the port bow, diagonally ahead, the distinctive gray whaling ship of the Iwakura Company finally appeared. Caught off guard, by the time the captain first spotted it, the ship was already closing in on the whale pod with orca-like swiftness.

Hayabusa-maru hurriedly reduced its speed. Fortunately, those on the other side seemed too preoccupied with their prey to notice them. As they drew closer to the ship, its black smokestack bore a prominent ○ mark dancing upon it, while along its hull stood the unmistakable three characters "Kushiro-maru" in stark black, vividly drenched in sea spray. Boom... Already, white smoke erupted from the harpoon gun at Kushiro-maru's bow. Mr. Higashiya gave a signal. Hayabusa-maru shot forward like an arrow.

“Oh,” the captain stiffened. “That bastard's committing a crime.” “They’re targeting the calves!”

“Probably standard practice.” Mr. Higashiya said. Aboard the Kushiro-maru, the harpoon line clattered against the winch as it was wound in, and a calf whale surfaced abruptly through the water. At that moment, the man on the foremast lookout waved his arms and shouted something. He had spotted the approaching Hayabusa-maru. Immediately, the Kushiro-maru began swerving sharply to port at a steep angle. The “halt order” signal flag slid smoothly up Hayabusa-maru’s foremast. Hayabusa-maru was a sixteen-knot vessel. —The whaling ship surrendered without resistance.

When they drew closer, the whale pod was larger than they had imagined. Amidst the whales lingering aimlessly without fleeing, once Hayabusa-maru had pulled alongside the Kushiro-maru—which had resignedly come to a docile stop—the police officers, led by Mr. Higashiya, the chief, and Marudane, came swarming aboard. The sailors of the Kushiro-maru, seeing the overly elaborate deployment of forces for what should have been a routine illegal operation crackdown, began to panic terribly. However, they were immediately surrounded by police officers.

Mr. Higashiya, accompanied by the police chief and Marudane, ran up to the bridge. There, a man who appeared to be the helmsman was frantically trying to escape, but Mr. Higashiya— “Bring out the captain!”

Mr. Higashiya shouted, and then

“I don’t know!”

Shook his head and immediately jumped down to the deck. But there, a struggle with the police officers immediately began. While observing this scene, Mr. Higashiya began searching for the captain, dragging along Marudane—who had somehow become utterly dazed—by the arm. When he couldn’t find him in either the captain’s cabin or the radio room, Mr. Higashiya 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 was no sign of anyone.—Now, the only place left above was the crew quarters at the bow.

Mr. Higashiya, taking Marudane and the police chief with him, descended the gangway to the forward deck and stood before the dimly lit door of the crew quarters. When they listened carefully, sure enough, they could hear a person's breathing. Mr. Higashiya swiftly flung the door open—with a clang, the man inside struck the lamp, casting a swaying shadow as he recoiled backward. But in the next instant, when they saw the captain pressed tight against the wall beyond the violently swaying hanging lamp—eyes glaring, teeth clenched, gripping a large hand harpoon in his right hand thrust forward to take aim—Marudane let out an eerie "Uwaaa!" and clung to Mr. Higashiya. The harpoon flew past someone's head and plunged into the back wall with a thud. As the pistol glinted in the police chief's hand and handcuffs snapped shut, Marudane raised a trembling voice.

“Th-that man… he’s the captain of the Hokkaimaru—the one who was supposed to be dead!” he gulped, heaving his shoulders with each breath. “A-and that’s not all… No—wait, I’d thought something was off since earlier. That helmsman too, and the sailors arrested on deck… Ah! All of them—they’re all crew members from the Hokkaimaru who should’ve died!”

“Wh-what did you say?” The captain of Hayabusa-maru, who had rushed in afterward, turned pale and shouted. “That’s absurd! “Then—if that’s really true—what happened to the crew of the Kushiro-maru?” At that moment, Mr. Higashiya, who had been silent until now, turned around and abruptly said. “Kushiro-maru is located in the Japan Sea.”

“What?!”

The captain faltered.

“Ah, you’re absolutely right,” Mr. Higashiya said, suddenly shaking his head with apparent discomfort, “No—I must clarify. “It’s nothing significant… You’ve repeatedly stated that Kushiro-maru’s maximum speed is twelve knots… The crux lies precisely there.” “Now, consider this carefully.” “According to reports from Ulleungdo Police, that twelve-knot Kushiro-maru departed from its base on the island two days before the murder, correct? …Yet the shortest distance from Ulleungdo to Nemuro is 850 nautical miles.” “Therefore, even if Kushiro-maru had sailed at maximum speed… well… it would require seventy hours—a full three days. You see? This means the ship that entered Nemuro on the murder night was unequivocally not Kushiro-maru.”

The captain turned as white as paper and gasped out.

“Then—what on earth *is* this ship?”

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

When everyone fell silent in utter dismay, Mr. Higashiya began to speak as he deliberately climbed the gangway.

“No—this is the greatest incident in whaling history since its very inception… To be honest, even I only had about eighty percent certainty until I had Mr. Marudane identify the captain here… Captain.” “The legal limit on whaling ships was thirty vessels, correct?” “No—this is my own constructed theory—President Iwakura increased his own fleet, which was restricted to two ships, to three.” “In other words, he colluded with senior crew members and staged Hokkaimaru’s fake sinking a year ago.” “On that stormy night—after altering its hull name to flawlessly disguise itself as its sister ship Kushiro-maru—Hokkaimaru proceeded to dump oil and coal dust into the sea at will, transmit counterfeit radio signals, and—while masquerading as Kushiro-maru rushing to the rescue—spent two or three days coolly searching for its own phantom alongside Salvage Association rescue vessels… Truly appalling behavior… Subsequently, Hokkaimaru’s sinking was registered with the Maritime Bureau… Indeed, in my estimation, this newly constructed Hokkaimaru was likely built using insurance money from its predecessor… In any case, through this scheme, Iwakura Company ostensibly operated two legally permitted whaling ships while actually fielding three—even brazenly evading taxes on one—to boost efficiency… However, since this Kushiro-maru was counterfeit, they strictly forbade it from entering port or allowing shore leave near Nemuro—fearing sailors might leak the secret.” “Of course—being a gathering of rough men—the sailors couldn’t care less about Nemuro as long as they were getting paid.” “They couldn’t see how much better whales worth a thousand yen each would be—well—that’s how it’s been going on for about a year now.” “…However—the problem here was Komori the harpooner—unlike the single sailors—who had left his wife and child in Nemuro… Of course—that man must have initially felt the same as the other crew members—but as days passed—homesickness began to take root in his heart.” “However—sensing danger—the captain absolutely refused to let him return to his family.” “But rising emotions—those things—aren’t something you can suppress and keep suppressed… Seizing the chance when they came near Nemuro for fishing—Komori the harpooner finally ended up deserting…”

“Hmm,” the captain said, breaking his silence for the first time. “Ah, I see. So that tragedy was carried out by the pursuing captain… Indeed, it all makes sense now.” “That’s an astute observation indeed.”

The captain stood on the deck and once again surveyed his surroundings. In the sea, large whales still swam swirling around the ship without fleeing. It was a strange sight. On the bow gun of the captured whaling ship, the second harpoon meant to strike those large whales remained prepared. The cunning captain had secretly ordered Yasukichi to engage in forbidden calf-hunting for a long time in order to easily capture those mysterious whales.

When there are whale calves, the parent whales linger. Just as Yasukichi had refused to abandon his child a year earlier, they never leave their young behind.

(*Shin Seinen* *Shin Seinen*, October 1936 issue)