Shipwrecks by Akira Yoshimura Page B

carrying-frame, which he thenswung onto his back. It was heavy, around sixty or seventy pounds.
    Using his stick for support, Isaku cautiously threaded his way through the trees and out of the forest. The rain had grown heavier, throwing up spray as it pelted his hat and shoulders. The wind bore down on his load, and he felt his body moving with it. Isaku walked on down the path, stopping occasionally to steady himself against the gusts of wind. The stormy sea came into view below him. He was soaked to the skin with rain and sweat.
    His mother started preparing the bark that night. She trimmed off the outer part with a knife and laid out the inner layers on the floor. Isaku repaired his fishing-tackle on the dirt floor as he watched his mother, who seemed to relish her task.
    The next day she soaked the inner layers of bark in the stream near their house. The pieces of outer bark were bundled up in a corner, ready to be used as kindling. Five days later she pulled the bark out of the stream and boiled it in a potful of water mixed with ash. Then she soaked it in the stream once again, rinsed it thoroughly, and hung it up to dry in the shade before pulling it apart to make into thread. His mother spun the thread on the spinning-wheel and then sat in front of the loom, weaving it into cloth. It was tiring work; occasionally she stopped to rub the sleep from her eyes.
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    The wet season started and sheets of rain fell on the village. The villagers had seen the last of the squid, and now they caught nothing but small fry.
    In the evening an old fisherman came back to the shore to report that the saury were starting to come in.
    Isaku felt himself losing his composure. His father was gifted at catching saury, but for Isaku it was a trick he could not master for the life of him. The previous rainy season he had tried to fish as he remembered his father doing, but had caught nothing at all. Isaku’s family had to stand by helplessly as the smoke from other houses grilling saury floated up day after day, and everywhere people could be seen packing salted sauryinto barrels. This year, he thought, he had to catch some fish, even if it wasn’t a lot, for his family.
    Since the saury season provided the most important catch of the year for the village, the men tried their best to catch as much as they could; they had no leisure for teaching fishing techniques to others. The previous season, the other villagers had taken pity on Isaku’s family and had each brought them a few fish, but this year he didn’t want to depend on such charity.
    The only person Isaku could rely on was his cousin Takichi, but now that he had his own household to look after it was doubtful that he would teach Isaku how to fish. Besides, Isaku was concerned that Takichi had changed since getting married. But Isaku knew there was no way he could let his family starve, so that evening, after hastily eating his dinner, he hurried along the moonlit path to his cousin’s house.
    â€˜Hello?’ Isaku said as he poked his head through the straw matting hanging at the entrance. Takichi looked towards the door from where he sat on the earthen floor, his wife kneeling beside him. There were several pieces of thick straw matting laid out on the floor, as well as some stout lengths of rope. Seeing that Takichi was starting to prepare his fishing tackle, Isaku walked towards him.
    â€˜You said you’d tell me how to catch saury. I want you to teach me. My family’s gonna starve. I hope you haven’t forgotten what you said that night,’ Isaku said.
    â€˜I haven’t forgotten. I thought you’d turn up before long,’ Takichi said. A faint smile appeared on his face.
    Isaku felt relieved. He sat down beside his cousin and turned his gaze toward Takichi’s busy hands.
    When fishing for saury, a fisherman would tie together three or four pieces of thick straw matting and attach a heavy rope to it, letting this drift