Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Just as it did yesterday, today too the sun sank westward. The Mediterranean Sea, illuminated by the setting sun, was as beautiful as scarlet. The decks of the ships, the masts of the ships, and the funnels of the ships shone like flames.

The southern tip of Africa. Port Said Port.

It was the height of summer... The port was thronged with people. Nubians with varnish-like skin, turban-wearing Arabs. Robed Persians. And they were all chattering away. Most were street vendors. "Diamonds dug from the desert! Taking a massive loss at just seventy sen! How about it? How about it now? Won't you take one!" "Won't you buy Persian silk cloth! Broadwidth silk—one jō for two yen! What do you say? Bargains bargains! Everything must go!"

"Beetles caught in Abyssinia! Beautiful as jewels! Five rin each! Buy 'em, buy 'em!" "Won't you buy mint! Sudan's mint here! Won't you buy cinnamon! Mecca's cinnamon here!"

They were mostly naked. And they were mostly barefoot. Europeans accompanied by elaborately dressed noblewomen also walked among them. Officials. Travelers. Company employees. Canal excavation engineers and the like…

A gentleman, puffing on a cigar, addressed the noblewoman accompanying him. “What a vulgar town… This Port Said—” “This Port Said—” “The gathering of races from various nations is precisely like a human exposition, isn’t it?”

One of the travelers murmured a delighted soliloquy in their heart.

What a splendid town this is. That African sensibilities and Western sensibilities could harmonize so perfectly—what a splendid town this is!

As the sun sank lower, the crowds grew ever more bustling. Perhaps in a rush to finish today’s work, from countless factories lining the area came the sounds of hammers, machinery, and boilers—all resounding urgently as if driving them onward. From ship docks jutting into the sea came drainage sounds like an asthma patient’s cough. Rows of trams loaded with passengers would come racing from the city’s outskirts, stop on this side of the pier to discharge and take in passengers, then race back toward the city. Each time, crowds were unloaded from trams onto the port’s waterfront street and scattered into side streets.

Among those bustling crowds, sauntering along with an air of leisure were sailors from various countries. With large black hats, baggy short coats, and sack-like trousers from which only the very tips of their boots peeked out—their appearance, complete with sailor’s pipes clenched between teeth—was unmistakably that of maritime laborers. The sea teemed with countless ships of every conceivable form. Gentle waves playfully lapped at their hulls with a splish-splash, buoying buoys, dinghies, and cargo boats as if they were weightless. Time and again, thousands of seagulls kissed the surface of those calm waves. The flock would flap their splendid silver-like wings, then plunge down to the sea surface to snatch flying fish before fleeing away.

Turning off the waterfront street and proceeding a short distance brought one to a cliff. On top of that cliff stood the sailors’ lodging house. It was a three-story wooden-walled building, its planks painted in red ocher.

Eventually, the sun had completely set, and the port had become a world of night, yet even that night could be transformed into midday through artificial power. Oh, majestic electric power!

The towns of Port Said were adorned with fiery blossoms of electric lights and became as beautiful as a dragon palace. Therefore, naturally from every window of the sailors’ lodging house too, lamplight shone forth as if rejoicing. And the vigorous sailors’ songs could be heard startling passersby from each room’s window. At that moment an old man came to the sailors’ lodging house entrance from nowhere in particular, then stood there gazing with powerless eyes at the window from which singing drifted. He was a pitifully impoverished and aged little man—his small sun-baked face creased with wrinkles looked as filthy as iron filings. His patched rag-like garment had discolored like boiled cloth, while his worn shoes gaped open at the sides. Clutching a small bundle under his arm and propping himself up with a sturdy-looking cane, he seemed barely able to stand. Sickness, senility, and hunger—speaking of hunger, by this day the old man had not eaten even a morsel of bread for three days. The only thing inside his stomach was water drunk along the roads. Were anyone to behold this wretched old figure today—this form gnawed by hunger, decay and infirmity—none could possibly imagine he had once possessed a robust physique, been a splendidly handsome man, and moreover a wildly dissolute young sailor. So completely had illness withered his flesh.

2 “I’d like to trouble you for a night’s lodging.” Standing before the accounting desk beside the entrance of the sailors’ lodging house, the old man timidly spoke these words.

“What’s this ‘want to lodge’ business?”

The middle-aged man sitting before the accounting desk retorted brusquely. “This is a sailors’ lodging house—not some cheap boarding house—I tell you.” “If you want one night’s lodging so badly, go beg at those flophouses.”

Then, the old man’s withered face suddenly flushed with color, but upon reconsideration, he continued in a gentle voice: “I am well aware that this is a sailors’ lodging house… And though I may look like this now, I too was once a sailor…” “So you were a sailor too?” “So what are you now?” “Still a sailor to this day, I am. “If there’s a ship somewhere with a vacancy needing an oiler, I’ll go at once.” “So you’re an oiler.” “What a fine oiler we have here!” “A tottering oiler—now that’s something!” “But fine, let’s set that aside. Since you’re saying you want to lodge here, you must have the lodging fee on you, right?”

“Well, as for that lodging fee…”

“What about that lodging fee?” “If I had the means for lodging fees, I wouldn’t be wandering about starving for two or even three days… I don’t have the lodging fee, but in exchange, I’ll work.” “I can manage something like cooking too, you know.” “Things like corridor cleaning are a breeze for me, and I can polish light bulbs too…” “I suppose you’re saying you’ll scrub the toilets too.” “But we must decline that.” “We’ve already hired maids and servants to handle such jobs.”

“Well, that may be so, but if you would only show some compassion...” “If one keeps showing sympathy to others, their own foundation will develop holes—can’t stand getting caught in the rain then.” “We’ll just have to keep that sympathy on hold for now.” “Now, now, please don’t say such things… Even if you were to help a senile old man like me, what sort of hole could possibly open in this sturdy foundation…?” "Hey old man!" shouted the lodging master in a hateful voice, his cheeks puffed out like a venomous snake.

“Hey old man, let me teach you a fine maxim—‘Time is money’! Don’t make me waste ‘golden time’ on idle chatter with some stranger like you! What an outrageous spendthrift of this fleeting world! I can’t agree with that. You might hate this, but get out of here. Get out of here right now, and make it snappy!”

However, the old man did not leave. In a pleading, pitiful voice, he repeated his request many times.

Then, there was a young sailor who had been leaning against a pillar on the staircase, watching the two with apparent amusement; now, for some reason, he approached the accounting desk.

“He’s a pitiful old man, isn’t he? Don’t speak so harshly… If you need the lodging fee, I’ll cover it. So just put him up already.”

The lodging master looked up in surprise and shot a sharp glance at the young sailor, but “So it’s you, Gabriele?” “Still playing the gallant, are you?” “Is this what they call Italian temperament…? If someone’s paying the lodging fee, it makes no difference who it’s from.” “Once I’ve taken that from you, shall I show him to his room then?”

“Here,” said the sailor as he tossed out a gold coin.

“This here’s a gold coin, isn’t it?”

“You saying it ain’t enough?” “Not at all—it’s far too much!” “Too much? Don’t be absurd! Since the old man’s staying, this covers his food and lodging for the duration.”

“Huh, so he’s staying, is he?” “Old man, that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

As the sailor asked with a laugh, the old man bowed repeatedly,

“If you wish for that, nothing could be better… If you wish for that, nothing could be better...” he said, stammering haltingly.

“What do you think of that, you Sea Monster! Mr. Gabriele’s got clairvoyance—oh right, about the room. There was a good one empty next to mine, wasn’t there? Take him through there.” “Are you taking me to that room?” “It’s the finest room there is.” “A good room with a view of the sea, but—” “That’s why I said take him through… Go on up now, old man.” “Keep those muddy shoes on.”

Thus, the old man—a destitute wanderer fallen to the lowest depths—was rescued by an unexpected benefactor and came to possess splendid sleeping quarters beyond his wildest imaginings.

III

From that night onward, the old man occupied a superior room in the sailors’ lodging house and was able to lead a life akin to paradise there compared to his previous existence. A large window faced the sea. A cool-looking bed with a white sheet. Mahogany desk and chairs. On the wall hung even a framed picture. It was truly a splendid room. The young sailor Gabriele came to the room every day and talked with the old man. “How’s it treating you, old man? “It can’t be too bad, though.”

“Not at all, Mr. Gabriele! “It is like paradise.” “Everything—absolutely everything—is splendid and gleaming… And above all, I can see the sea from this window…” “You really love the sea that much?!” “I’ve been raised by the sea since I was no bigger than this, I have.” “The tide was my birth bath, I have.”

“Where have you been all this time!” “I’ve wandered across the whole world.” “Shanghai in the Orient, Stockholm too—in that frigid northern Sweden… come to think of it, Cape Town in South Africa as well.” “Crossed east through the Panama Canal to Havana in Cuba.” “Australia too, of course.” “The only places left are the South Pole and North Pole…” “Putting on airs, are we?—But what’s the blasted point of tramping about everywhere like that?”

“You’re the one commanding me to say it!”

The old man asked sorrowfully.

“If you don’t want to say it, you don’t have to.” “I’m not saying I want to force it out of you.” The old man kept his gaze fixed downward with a sorrowful expression, but then suddenly raised his eyes to look at the young man with suspicion,

“No, rather than that, it is I who would like to request that you listen…”

“Then spit it out already.” “Up until now, I have had several people listen to me, but once they hear me out, those people make mocking faces and laugh out loud, I tell you.” “Then they say to me, ‘Frank, you’re dreaming!” “Or did you read about such things in some cheap boys’ magazine?!” “Or maybe you’ve gone mad yourself!’ they ended up mocking me.”

“But I won’t laugh.” “I won’t laugh, so go on and tell me.”

Gabriele said this with a serious expression.

“Then I shall have you listen—though I cannot say when it began, one conviction has taken root in my heart. To explain what this conviction entails—it is that I am to become the captain of a massive merchant ship adorned with a golden eagle at its prow, and that this merchant ship awaits my arrival at some port… I do not know which port, but it waits at some port… Therefore, I must hasten to that port. Therefore, I must wander through the ports of the world, I must say.”

As the young sailor Gabriele listened to the old man’s tale, he inadvertently forgot his earlier promise and burst out laughing—but when the old man, speaking with utmost seriousness, had completely finished his story, Gabriele finally leaped up from his chair and began stomping around the room while clutching his sides in laughter.

“I won’t laugh again, I won’t.” Having finally suppressed his laughter, the young sailor Gabriele returned to the old man’s side and— “Just one thing I want to ask you, old man—surely in your youth you were a downright wastrel who indulged in women, gambling, and drink! And on top of that, didn’t you even take opium!” Then the old man looked surprised, “How on earth do you know even that I took opium?!” “If you hadn’t taken a hell of a lot of opium, such ‘convictions’ would never come to you.”

Gabriele left the old man’s room with a broad smile, but upon reaching his own room next door, he involuntarily muttered as follows.

“He’s the perfect starling, that one.” “Time to get started on the act… The target’s an opium addict and a delusional lunatic—divine aid for my side… The wait’s paid off, I’d say.” Late that night, Gabriele left the storage room and entered the old man’s quarters. At that moment, the old man leaned against the window and gazed out at the dark sea. And even when Gabriele entered, he did not so much as attempt to turn around. Oh, why would the old man turn around! The old man was indeed watching—from beyond the dark sea’s horizon where even irises dare not grow—the massive merchant ship, its prow adorned with a golden eagle, calmly parting the inky tide as it glided in!

“Old man!” Gabriele called out. “Look!” The old man pointed at the dark sea without turning around. “The ship has finally come in! A merchant ship with a golden eagle!” “What are you talking about, old man…”

“Look!” the old sailor repeated. “Behold that hull!” “What a magnificent vessel!” “Hearken to the sound of the anchor dropping!” “A dinghy has been lowered!” “They must have come to pick me up!……”

Gabriele peered out the window, but there was no sign of any such ship.

IV

Thus, while the old man was utterly enraptured by his most pleasant delusion, a mysterious theft took place. Immediately, the old man’s belongings—his frayed-seamed old shoes, a crusty handkerchief, and the duplicate key to his room—had vanished without a trace. Of course, the old man did not know. He did not even know that Gabriele—who had entered the room—had slipped out as stealthily as a thieving cat. To put it bluntly, the old man did not even know that Gabriele had entered the room.

And so, of course, the old man had no inkling—not even in his wildest dreams—that around two in the morning, George, nicknamed “Sea Monster,” the master of the sailors’ lodging house, had been murdered in his own room by someone who also stole his considerable savings; that his own handkerchief had been left at the crime scene as damning evidence; that his stolen old shoes had left terrifyingly vivid prints trailing from the murder site back to his room; and that those very shoes had then been neatly placed inside his quarters. All through the night, the old sailor had done nothing but wait—wait for the dinghy sent to welcome him as captain from that antiquated, colossal merchant ship adorned with a golden eagle to arrive swiftly.

Dawn drew near. The edge of the sky, which had been pitch black, took on a hydrangea hue. At that moment, the old man saw for the first time the form of the dinghy coming to meet him! The dinghy swiftly cut through the waves, approaching the window where he was. It appeared to be an eight-man dinghy. As the oars were rowed with utmost strength, the spray flipped swiftly, glistening in the dawn’s light. In the blink of an eye, the dinghy drew near. Soon, it came to a halt beneath the window. “Captain!” a voice suddenly called out.

“We have been awaiting your arrival, Captain! Now then, please board at once.”

The old man leaned out from the window and turned his face toward the direction of the voice. “Very well!” he declared in a pompous voice, “I too have been waiting for ages.” “Why didn’t you come for me sooner?” “Because navigating proved arduous.” “Which sea raged so violently?” “Ah. “It is the Indian Ocean.” “That sea is always rough. “But as long as I’m here, I’ll show you we can get through the Indian Ocean.” “And so I have come to welcome you.”

“Let us go!” the old man declared in a resolute voice, with dignity. “…From where does one board this dinghy?”

“From the window! “From the window!” The sailors said.

“All right!” the old man nodded, but quickly hooked his leg over the window frame. At that moment, something knocked on the old man’s door from outside. “Open up! Open up! Open the door!” But of course, the old man could not hear those shouts. He kept his leg hooked over the window frame, fixed his eyes on the dinghy out at sea, and pondered how to leap in. “Open up! Open up! Open the door!” “We’re from the police! Open the door!”

“Captain, hurry!” came from the dinghy. “Open up open up open up!” “Smash it down and get in!” “Never mind!”

“Captain, hurry!” called from the ship. The door was shattered through violence. At that moment, the police officers who had forced their way in glimpsed the old man’s figure fluttering from the window into the sea.

“Damn it!” the people shouted as they ran to the window facing the sea. The sea surface glowed hazily in the gradually brightening dawn light, but the water below remained dark, rendering even the outlines of objects indistinguishable. On that water’s surface, there was neither a dinghy nor any sign of the old man. And so, of course, there was no colossal merchant ship bearing the mark of a golden eagle offshore either.

The prosecutor, detectives, investigating magistrate, police officers, and fellow lodgers nodded to one another and exchanged glances. Then they looked around the room. Under the bed were old shoes—the old man’s old shoes that had left clear footprints from the crime scene to this room—the evidence, irrefutable evidence, two pairs hidden together.

The young sailor Gabriele pulled them out from the hiding place. Thrusting that hand into his trouser pocket and sneering, he bellowed like this. “What a brazen old man he must have been!” “Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine he was such a villain! I took pity on his wretched state and tossed out a single gold coin to get him into this lodging—now that I think of it, what a calamity that turned out to be!” “If I hadn’t let this guy into the lodging house, George wouldn’t have been killed.” “Poor George!” “O God, please kindly take George’s soul to heaven.”

Even as Gabriele spoke these things, he kept probing with his fingers at the bundle of banknotes twisted into his trouser pocket. Those very banknotes were the bundle stolen after murdering George.

“That’s what you call reaping what you’ve sown.” “One might call it divine retribution served plain and clear.” “He strangled the lodging master and stole the money, sure—but with his own shoe prints betraying the crime so swiftly, we stormed in, and in the end he resigned himself to leap into the sea and die… And this sea beneath the window? Deep as it is, with seaweed growing thick—not even a master swimmer could resurface once they’ve plunged in here.” “There is plenty of evidence.” The detective proud of his skills said this and looked around at everyone’s faces.

On everyone’s faces appeared expressions endorsing the detective’s words, but before long they all left the room.

×　　　×　　　×　　　×　　　×

On a beautifully clear day perfect for sailing, the newest-model merchant ship was cutting through the Indian Ocean. The equatorial ocean waters directly below were viscous as oil, appearing more black than blue. Not a single passenger had ventured onto the deck, driven back by the blazing sun's scorching heat. Only five or six sailors labored on the fiery deck. Gabriele numbered among them.

No matter where one looked, there was nothing but water—not a single shadow of an island in sight. Not even a bird was flying. Even the strong-winged seabirds seemed unable to withstand the equatorial heat, for not a single albatross was in sight. The only things floating in the sky were semi-transparent clouds like silk threads. However, no sooner had those semi-transparent clouds turned ink-black than the clear sky grew dark. The red sunlight turned birch-colored, and soon even that vanished from sight.

The sea suddenly surged, the surface blanketed with white foam, and a thunderous roar rang out. In an instant, the wind ceased blowing. The surroundings were as silent as death.

The scene that occurred next was truly dreadful—even the captain, who boasted of having sailed the Indian Ocean multiple times, turned completely pale……Mountain-like waves surged up from beneath the steamship’s hull as though lifting it skyward. Looking in all directions, there was nothing but iceberg-like waves, and not even a hundred meters ahead could be seen. And then the storm struck, slamming against the ship’s hull as if to batter it. The sky was as dark as night.

The steamship sounded its distress whistle, boiled water in its steam boiler into a seething frenzy, and recklessly charged ahead through the raging waves, but thwarted by the storm and swells, it drifted endlessly in the same spot. At that moment, a single massive wave came surging from far off the bow, only to subside abruptly before reaching the ship. The sight resembled nothing so much as a collapsing mountain giving way to an emergent plain. Across this vast expanse of undulating flatness, a ship came sailing.

“Ship!” the sailors bellowed. The ship was hoisted onto the peak-like crest of the second wave, then positioned itself to slide straight down the slope, aimed directly at the bow of this steamship. “Danger!” “We’re going to collide!” “We’re going to collide!” The sailors looked up at the steamship atop the waves while screaming like madmen. What an antiquated ship it was! On the ship’s prow, a golden eagle was resplendently adorned in gold. He stood on the prow, calmly gazing downward. There was the old man. He was clad in a captain’s uniform and wore a captain’s hat.

The moment Gabriele caught sight of the old man at a glance, he let out an involuntary scream.

“That old man!” “The old man!” and…

Just like that, he lost consciousness and collapsed onto the deck. The Golden Eagle merchant ship descended from the mountain of waves. And so the two ships collided bow to bow. What they thought was real proved illusory; the Golden Eagle merchant ship grew hazy as mist, gradually fading like a dream. For an instant, the surroundings brightened, and the interior of the Golden Eagle merchant ship became clearly visible.

Behold! The sailors of that ship! They were all working their skeletal faces and limbs, surrounding the old captain as they maneuvered the ship!

“Ghost ship! Ghost ship!”

The sailors of this ship shouted in unison. In that instant, the ghost ship, the skeletal sailors, and the captain's figure vanished completely, leaving only towering waves behind. Gabriele, who had collapsed unconscious, appeared to have died then and there—he never opened his eyes again.