Pathway to Japanese Literature

I Just as it had 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 were ablaze like flames.

The southern tip of Africa. Port Said Port.

The season was in the midst of summer……. The port was bustling with people. Nubians with lacquered skin, turban-wearing Arabs. Persians wearing robes. And all of them were chattering away. Many of them were street vendors. “Diamonds dug straight from the desert! “Massive loss sale! Just 70 sen!” “How about it? How about it? Won’t you take anything!” “Won’t you buy Persian silk cloth! “A broad width of one jō for just two yen—how’s that for a deal!” “Bargains, bargains—everything must go!”

“Beetles captured in Abyssinia! “They’re as beautiful as jewels!” “Five rin per piece! Buy ’em now! Buy ’em now!”

“Won’t you buy Sudan’s mint! Sudan’s mint!” “Won’t you buy Mecca’s cinnamon! Mecca’s cinnamon!”

They were mostly naked. And most were barefoot. Europeans accompanied by elaborately dressed noble ladies were also walking. Officials. Travelers. Company employees. Engineers involved in canal excavation, and others……. A gentleman, smoking a cigar, spoke to the noble lady accompanying him. "—What a vulgar town this Port Said is." "This town called Port Said—" "The gathering of races from various countries looks exactly like a human exposition, doesn’t it?" One of the travelers muttered a delighted soliloquy to himself.

“What a splendid town! The way African charm and Western aesthetics blend together so perfectly—what a splendid town!”

As the sun sank lower, the crowds swelled ever thicker. Perhaps rushing to finish the day’s work, from countless factories lining the area came the sounds of hammers, machinery, and boilers—all urgently clamoring as if to drive them onward. From dry docks jutting into the sea came drainage sounds like an asthmatic’s cough. Rows of trams packed with passengers raced from the city’s edge to halt at the pier here, where they gulped down and spat out their human cargo before speeding back toward town. Each time, multitudes were disgorged onto the port’s waterfront avenue and scattered into warrens of alleys.

Among these bustling crowds, the figures strolling leisurely in a carefree manner were sailors from various countries. With large black hats, baggy short coats, and sack-like trousers from which only the very tips of their shoes peeked out, their appearance—clenching sailor’s pipes between their teeth—was unmistakably that of maritime laborers.

On the sea, countless ships were crowded in their varied forms. Gentle waves playfully lapped at the ships’ hulls with a splashing sound, effortlessly buoying buoys, small boats, and cargo skiffs. The surface of those calm waves was kissed over and over by a flock of thousands of seagulls. The flock of seagulls would flash their magnificent silver-like wings, then swoop down to the sea surface to snatch flying fish and dart away.

A turn inland from the waterfront street led after a short distance to a cliff. Atop that cliff stood the Sailors' Lodging House—a three-story wooden-plank building with walls painted in red ocher.

Before long, the sun had completely set and the port had become a world of night, yet even that night could be turned into broad daylight through artificial power.

Oh, mighty power of electricity! The towns of Port Said were adorned with blazing electric lights, becoming as beautiful as a mythical underwater palace. Therefore, naturally, lamplight shone cheerfully from every window of the Sailors' Lodging House. And through those windows came the lively sailors' song, startling passersby in the streets.

At that moment, an old man appeared as if from nowhere at the entrance of the Sailors' Lodging House and stood there, gazing with lifeless eyes at the windows from which singing could be heard. He was a poor, aged little man—his sunburned, wrinkled little face looked filthy, as if made of iron filings. His clothes—patched and frayed like rags—were discolored as if boiled, and the sides of his worn-out shoes gaped open wide. Clutching a small bundle under his arm and supported by a sturdy-looking cane, he seemed barely able to stand. Ill health, senility, and hunger—and speaking of hunger, for three days now, the old man had not eaten even a single piece of bread. The only thing in his stomach was the water he had drunk along the way. No one who saw this wretched old man today—this figure eaten away by hunger, senility, and ill health—could possibly imagine that he had once been a robust young sailor: a dashingly handsome man of considerable indulgence in his prime. The old man’s body withered so unhealthily.

II “I’d like to trouble you for a night’s stay.” Standing in front of the calculation desk at the side of the Sailors’ Lodging House entrance, the old man timidly spoke these words.

“What’s this about wanting to stay?” The middle-aged man sitting in front of the calculation desk retorted bluntly.

“This is a sailors’ lodging house, not a flophouse, you know.” “If you want to trouble someone for a night’s stay, you should go ask at a flophouse.”

Then, the old man’s withered face flushed with a sudden rush of blood, but reconsidering, he continued in a calm voice:

“I am well aware this is a lodging house… And though I may look like this now, I was indeed once a sailor myself…” “You say you were a sailor too? So what are you now, huh?” “I am still a sailor indeed. If any ship has a vacancy needing an oiler, I will come at once.” “So you’re an oiler? What a fine oiler you are! A tottering oiler—now that’s a surprise! Well, never mind that. Since you want to stay, you’ve got the lodging fee, right?”

“Well, as for that lodging fee…” “What’s this about the lodging fee?” “If I had that lodging fee, I wouldn’t be wandering around for two or three days without food or drink… I don’t have the fee, but in exchange, I will work.” “I can manage some cooking, you know.” “I can handle corridor cleaning with ease, and I’ll even polish the light bulbs…” “You’d handle flushing the toilets too, I suppose?” “But I’m refusing that.” “I’ve already hired maids or manservants to handle those jobs.”

“That may well be so, sir, but if you would show some compassion here…”

“If I go around sympathizing with everyone, my foundation’ll get holes and I won’t be able to stand getting rained on.” “Let’s save the sympathy for another time.”

“Oh, please don’t say such things… Even if you were to help a senile old man like me, what hole could it possibly make in this sturdy foundation of yours?” “Hey, old geezer!” the lodging master shouted in a venomous voice, his cheeks puffing out like a viper’s.

“Hey, old geezer! I’ll teach you a fine saying: ‘Time is money’! I ain’t gonna waste my ‘golden hours’ chattin’ with some stranger I got no ties to! What an outrageous wastrel of this fleeting world you are! I can’t agree with that. So even though you’ll hate it, get the hell out of here. Get the hell out of here—quickly and briskly!” However, the old man did not leave. In a pleading, pitiful voice, he repeated his request over and over again.

Just then, a young sailor—who had been leaning against a stair pillar and watching the two with amusement since earlier—appeared to have some thought cross his mind and approached the calculation desk.

“That one over there’s a pitiful old man, ain’t he?” “Quit your harsh talk… Need the lodgin’ fee? I’ll cough it up.” “So just put him up already!” The lodging master looked up in surprise and glared sharply at the young sailor— “What’s this? You’re Gabriele?” “Still playin’ the gallant act?” “That Italian temperament o’ yours… Don’t care whose coin pays—yours’ll do.” “Take your money then—show ’im to a room?”

“Here,” the sailor said, tossing out a gold coin. “This here’s a gold coin, isn’t it?”

“You saying it’s not enough?” “What nonsense—it’s too much!” “There’s no such thing as too much! Since the old man will be staying, this covers his food and room during that time.” “Huh, so he’s staying?” “Old man, that’s how it is for you, isn’t it?” When the sailor asked this with a laugh, the old man bowed his head repeatedly, “If that is your wish, nothing could be better… If that is your wish, nothing could be better…” he said falteringly. “How about that! You sea ogre! Lord Gabriele has clairvoyance!—Now, about the room—there was a good one vacant next to mine, wasn’t there? Put him in there.”

“Are you putting me in that room?” “It’s a top-class room, you know.” “It’s a fine room with a view of the sea.” “That’s why I’m telling you to go through… Come on now, old man, up you go.” “Keep your muddy boots on.” Thus, the utterly destitute old man—an unfortunate wanderer—was helped by an unexpected person and was able to secure splendid quarters beyond his wildest dreams.

III

From that night onward, the old man occupied a first-class room in the Sailors’ Lodging House and was able to live there in what seemed like paradise compared to his previous existence. A large window faced the sea. A cool-looking bed with a white sheet. A 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 feel living here, old man? It can’t be too bad, can it?” “Not at all, sir! It is like paradise. Everything—absolutely everything—is splendid, all gleaming brightly… and above all, since I can see the sea from this window…” “You like the sea that much?!”

“I was raised by the sea from when I was just this small.” “The tide was my birth bath, you see.”

“Where have you been all this time!” “I’ve wandered across the world. “I’ve stayed in Shanghai in the Orient, and Stockholm—the frigid northern seas of Sweden… Come to think of it, I’ve also lodged in Cape Town down in South Africa. “Crossed east through the Panama Canal to Havana in Cuba. “Of course I’ve been to Australia too. “If you’re asking where I haven’t set foot—only the Antarctic and North Pole…” “Making such grand boasts—what devil’s purpose drives you to tramp about like that?!”

“Since you bid me to say it!”

The old man asked sadly.

“If you don’t want to say it, you don’t have to.” “I won’t force you to tell me.” The old man had kept staring down with a sorrowful expression, but suddenly fixed his eyes on the young man and looked at him suspiciously,

“No—if anything, it is I who would like to ask you to hear me out, you see…” “Then spit it out already!”

“Up until now, I have had several people listen to me, but once they hear it through, those people make faces of ridicule and laugh loudly, you see.” “Then they say to me, ‘Frank, you’re dreaming!’ “Or maybe you read about that in some cheap boys’ magazine?! “Or maybe—just maybe—you’ve gone clean out of your mind!’ they mockingly conclude.”

“But I won’t laugh, I tell you.” “So go ahead and tell me—since I won’t laugh.” Gabriele spoke with utmost seriousness. “Then I shall have you listen—though I cannot say since when—a conviction has taken root in my heart.” “To explain what this conviction is—it is that I can become the captain of a massive merchant ship adorned with a golden eagle on 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 wander through the ports of the world, you see.”

Gabriele, the young sailor, had forgotten his earlier promise while listening to the old man’s story and inadvertently burst out laughing; but when the old man—speaking with utmost seriousness—had completely finished his tale, Gabriele finally leaped up from his chair and stomped around the room while clutching his stomach and roaring with laughter. “I won’t laugh anymore—I won’t laugh!” Having at last managed to suppress his laughter, the young sailor Gabriele returned to the old man’s side, but—

“Just one thing I wanna ask ya, old man—back in your wild youth, weren’t you a proper hedonist with all three vices: gambling, whoring, drinking… and on top of that, didn’t you go swallowing opium too?!” The old man looked astonished, “How do you know about the opium?!” “‘Convictions’ like that don’t come about unless you’ve swilled down a heap of opium.” Gabriele left the old man’s room with a grin, but upon reaching his own adjacent room, he involuntarily muttered as follows:

“He’s what you call a perfect patsy.” “Time to get started with my little act… With him being an opium addict and a delusional lunatic, it’s a godsend for me… This’ll be worth the wait, I say.”

Late that night, Gabriele left his thief’s den and entered the old man’s room. The old man stood leaning against the window then, gazing at the dark sea. Even when Gabriele entered, he made no move to turn around. Oh, why would the old man turn around! For he was truly watching—from beyond horizons where no iris blooms could mark the boundary, through ink-black tides of the stygian sea—the massive merchant ship crowned with a golden eagle upon its prow now gliding silently inward!

“Old man!” called Gabriele. “Look!” said the old man without turning around, pointing at the dark sea. “The ship has finally arrived! The Golden Eagle merchant ship!” “What are you talking about, old man…” “Look!” repeated the old man. “Look at that hull! “What a magnificent hull! “Listen to the sound of the anchor being lowered! “A small boat was lowered! “They must have come to pick me up!……”

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

IV And so, while the old man was utterly lost in his most pleasant delusion, a strange theft was perpetrated. Immediately, the old man’s belongings—his old shoes with fraying seams, his stained handkerchief, and the duplicate key to his room… all these 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. In the most extreme terms, the old man did not even know that Gabriele had entered the room.

Of course, around two o’clock in the morning—the fact that George, nicknamed “the Sea Ogre,” master of the lodging house, had been killed in his own room by someone and robbed of a large sum of savings; that the old man’s handkerchief had been left behind at the crime scene as evidence; that once-stolen old shoes had left terrifyingly clear prints from the crime scene all the way to the old man’s room and were then neatly placed back inside—the old man knew nothing of any of this, not even in his wildest dreams. All night long, the old man had done nothing but wait, hoping that the small boat sent to fetch him as captain from the antiquated giant merchant ship adorned with a golden eagle would arrive soon.

The night drew closer to dawn. The edge of the sky, which had been pitch-black, took on a hydrangea-blue hue. At that moment, the old man saw it for the first time. The small boat coming to meet him appeared! The small boat cut vigorously through the waves and approached the window where he was. It appeared to be an eight-oared small boat. As the oars were rowed with all their might, the water spray that flashed up with each stroke glinted in the light of dawn. In the blink of an eye, the small boat drew near. Soon, it came to a stop beneath the window.

“Captain!” a voice suddenly called out.

“We have been awaiting you!” “Come now, please board right away.”

The old man leaned out from the window and turned his face toward the source of the voice.

“Very well!” he declared in an affected voice, “I too have been waiting a long time. Why did you not come sooner?” “The voyage proved most arduous.”

“Which sea was it that raged so fiercely?” “Ah, the Indian Ocean.”

“That sea there is always rough. However, as long as I’m here, I’ll show you I can navigate through even the Indian Ocean!” “That is why we have come to fetch you.” “Let’s go!” declared the old man in a resolute voice, with dignity. “…Where are you to board from…?” “From the window! From the window!” said the sailors.

“Alright!” the old man nodded, but swiftly hooked his leg over the windowsill. At that moment, there was a knock on the door of his room from outside. “Open up! Open up! Open the door!” Yet the old man could not hear those voices at all. He kept his leg hooked on the windowsill, fixed his gaze on the small boat 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 the call from the small boat.

“Open up! Open up! Open up, I say!” “Let’s smash it down and get in!” “Never mind!” “Captain, hurry!” called a voice from the ship. The door was violently broken down. At that moment, the police officers who had burst in caught a fleeting glimpse of the old man’s figure fluttering out the window into the sea.

“Damn it!” they shouted as they rushed to the window facing the sea. The sea surface glowed dimly under the gradually brightening dawn light, but the water below remained dark, making it impossible to discern anything. There was neither a small boat on that water’s surface nor even a trace of the old man. Therefore, of course, out at sea, there was no giant merchant ship marked with a Golden Eagle 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 shoes that had left clear footprints from the crime scene to this room—irrefutable evidence, two pairs neatly hidden.

Gabriele, the young sailor, pulled it out from the hiding place. He thrust his hand into his trouser pocket and, while sneering, shouted thus. “What a brazen old man he was!” “I never dreamed he was such a villain! I felt so sorry for him that I tossed out a gold coin to get him into this lodging house, but now that I think of it, what a disaster!” “If only I hadn’t let this guy into the lodging house, George wouldn’t have been killed.” “Poor George!” “God, please take George’s soul to heaven.”

Even as Gabriele was saying such things, he kept probing with his fingers the wad of bills stuffed into his pocket. Those very bills were none other than the wad he had stolen after killing George. “He reaped what he sowed,” “A case of swift divine retribution, you might say.” “He strangled the lodging master and stole the money, but once we found his shoe prints and stormed his room, he finally gave up and jumped into the sea… And this sea below the window—deep and choked with seaweed—once you go in here, even the most skilled swimmer can’t come back up.” “There’s ample evidence besides.” The detective said this and scanned everyone’s faces.

On everyone’s faces appeared expressions affirming the detective’s words, but soon they all left the room.

×　　　×　　　×　　　×　　　×

A state-of-the-art merchant ship sailed across the Indian Ocean on a beautifully clear day perfect for navigation. The viscous, oil-like waters of the ocean directly beneath the equator appeared more black than blue. Not a single passenger daunted by the blazing sun's scorching heat ventured out onto the deck. On the burning deck, only five or six sailors were working. Gabriele was one of them.

No matter where one looked, there was nothing but water—not a single trace of an island in sight. Not even birds were flying. It seemed that even strong-winged seabirds could not withstand the equatorial heat, for not a single albatross was in sight. The only things floating in the sky were semitransparent clouds like silk threads.

Yet, in the brief moment it took for those semitransparent clouds to turn as black as ink, the clear sky grew dark. The red sunlight turned amber, and soon even that vanished. The sea suddenly surged up, the surface was covered with white foam, and a thunderous roar echoed. In an instant, the wind stopped. The surroundings were dead silent.

The spectacle that occurred next was truly terrifying—even the captain, who prided himself on having sailed the Indian Ocean multiple times, turned deathly pale…… From beneath the steamship’s hull, mountainous waves surged up as though lifting the vessel to the heavens. No matter where one looked in all directions, there were only towering waves like icebergs, and not even a hundred meters ahead could be seen. And then the storm struck the ship’s hull like a hammer blow. The sky was as dark as night.

The steamship sounded its distress whistle, furiously boiled water in its boiler, and desperately charged through the raging waves, but thwarted by the storm and swells, it merely drifted in place.

At that moment, a single enormous wave came surging from far ahead, but it lowered right before the ship. The sight was exactly as if a mountain had collapsed and a plain had formed in its wake. Across the vast plain of waves, a single ship came charging.

“A ship!” the sailors shouted. The ship was instantly lifted onto the peak-like summit of the second wave, but then positioned itself straight along the slope of the ridge, aiming for the bow of our steamship as if ready to slide down. “Look out!” “We’re going to collide!” “We’re going to collide!”

The sailors, shouting like madmen, looked up at the steamship atop the waves. What an antiquated ship! On the ship’s prow, the Golden Eagle was resplendently adorned in gold. Standing on the prow, he gazed down calmly. 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, he let out an involuntary scream. “That’s the old man! That’s the old man!—”

Just like that, he lost consciousness and collapsed onto the deck. The Golden Eagle merchant ship descended from the mountain of waves. And thus, the two ships collided bow to bow. But this thought was an illusion—the Golden Eagle merchant ship grew hazy as mist and began to fade away like a dream. For an instant, the surroundings brightened, and the state of affairs inside the Golden Eagle merchant ship became clearly visible.

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

“A ghost ship! “A ghost ship!”

The sailors of this ship shouted in unison. In that instant, the ghost ship, the skeletal sailors, and the captain’s figure all vanished completely, leaving behind only towering waves that rose high into the air.

Gabriele, who had collapsed in a faint, apparently died on the spot, for he never opened his eyes again.