Ancient Tales and Folk-Lore of Japan, Richard Gordon Smith [best ebook reader ubuntu .txt] 📗

the highest part of his island; but it was not high enough to enable him to see land, though he thought at one time that he could discern that faint line of blue on the horizon which prophesies distant land.

However, he was safe for the time; he had food in plenty, and water; true, the birds somewhat bothered him, for they did not act as might have been expected. There seemed something uncanny in the way they sat on their perches and watched him. He did not like that, and often threw a stone at them; but even that had little effect—they only seemed to look more serious.

Though Kume was no sailor, he was a good enough swimmer, as are most Japanese who live anywhere along the sea provinces, and he was quite able to dive in moderation and up to a depth of three Japanese fathoms—fifteen feet. Thus it was that Kume spent all the time he was not practising in his boat in diving for shellfish; he soon found that there were enormous quantities of pearl oysters, which contained beautiful pearls; and, having collected some fifty or sixty, large and small, he cut one of the sleeves of his coat and made a bag which he determined to fill. One day while Kume was diving about after his pearls and shellfish, he found that by looking in the holes of rocks beneath the low-tide level he could find pearls that had fallen from the dead and rotten shells above; in one case they were like gravel, and he took them out of a cavity by handfuls. Discoloured they certainly were; but Kume knew them from their roundness of shape, and rubbing with sand or earth soon proved them to be pearls. Thus it was that he worked with renewed energy, hoping all the time to make sufficient money to be able eventually to avenge his dead master.

One day, some six weeks after he had landed on the island, he saw a distant sail. Through the day he watched it carefully; but it did not seem to come or go much nearer, and Kume came to the conclusion that it must be the sail of a stationary fishing-boat, for there was breeze enough to have taken it oil out of sight twice over since he had watched, if it had wanted to go.

‘Surely there must be land somewhere over there beyond the boat: it would not be there for half a day if not. Tomorrow, now that I can manage to sail and row my boat, I will start on an expedition and see. I do not expect to find my own countrymen there; but I may find Chinese who may be friendly, and if I find the southern savages I shall not, with my good Japanese sword, be afraid of them!’

Next morning Kume provisioned his boat with fruit, water, shellfish, and eggs, and, tying his bag of pearls about him, set sail in a southwesterly direction. There was little wind, and the boat went slowly; but Kume steered steadily all night, as was natural, considering the little he knew. He dared not go to sleep and thus perhaps lose all idea of the direction whence he had come. Thus it came that when morning broke the sun rose on his port side, and he found himself not more than some four miles from an island which lay right ahead of him. Quite elated with his first success in navigation, Kume seized his oars and helped the boat along. On reaching the land his reception was anything but pleasant. At least one hundred angry savages were on the beach with spears and staves; but what were they (as my translator asks) to a Japanese samurai? Fifteen of them were put out of action without his getting a scratch, for Kume was well up in all the defensive arts that his military training had given him, and the tricks in jujitsu were familiar to him.

The rest of his adversaries became frightened and began to run. Kume caught one of them, and tried to ask what island this was, and what kind of people they were. By signs he explained that he was a Japanese and in no way an enemy, but on the contrary wished to be friendly, and, as they could see, he was alone. Greatly impressed with Kume’s prowess, and glad that he did not wish to resume hostilities, the natives stuck their spears point-downwards in the sand, and came forward to Kume, who sheathed his sword and proceeded to examine the fifteen men he had laid low. Eleven of these had fallen by some clever jujitsu trick, and were to all intents and purposes dead; but Kume took them in various ways and restored them to life by a well-known art called kwatsu (really artificial breathing), which has been practised in Japan for hundreds of years in connection with some secret jujitsu tricks which are said to kill you—unless some one is present who knows the art of kwatsu you must die if left for over two hours without being restored. At present it is illegal to kill temporarily even though you know the art of kwatsu. Kume restored nine of his fallen enemies, which in itself was considered to be a marvellous performance, and gained him much respect. Two others were dead. The rest had wounds from which they recovered.

Peace being established, Kume was escorted by the chief to the village and given a hut to himself, and he found the people kind and agreeable. A wife was given to him, and Kume settled down to the life of the island, and to learn the language, which in many ways resembled his own.

Sugar and yams were the principal things planted,—with, of course, rice in the hills and where there was sufficient water for terracing,—but fishing formed the principal occupation of all. Four or five times a-year the islanders were visited by a junk which bought their produce, and exchanged things they wanted for it—such as beds, iron rods, calico, and salt. After three months’ residence Kume was able to talk the language a little, and had managed to narrate his adventures; moreover, he had explained that the island from which he had sailed—he had named it Torijima, 1 on account of the birds there—was a far better island than their own for all marine produce. ‘Do, my friends,’ said Kume, ‘accompany me over there and see. I have shown you my pearls. I am not much of a diver; but, for those that are divers there are as many as you can wish—also sea-slugs, bēche-de-mer, and namako of the very best kinds.’

‘Do you know that the island which you call “Tori” is bewitched?’ they asked. ‘It is impossible to go there, for there is a gigantic bird which comes twice a-year and kills all men who have ventured to land. It could not have been there when you were, or you could not have lived a day.’

‘Well, my friends,’ said Kume, ‘I am not afraid of a bird, and, as you have been very kind to me, I should like to show you my Torijima, for, though small, it is better than your island for all the things which come from the sea, and you would say so if you came. Please say that some of you will accompany me.’

At last thirty men said they would go; that would be three boat-loads of them.

Accordingly, next evening they started, and, as the direction was well known to the Loochooans, they reached the shores of Torijima just as the sun arose.

Kume’s boat arrived first. Though he had been fully warned of the great bird which must have been absent when he was in the island, Kume landed alone, and was proceeding up the shore when an immense eagle with a body larger than his own swept down on him and began to fight. Kume, being a Japanese, immediately cut the monster in half.

From that day Torijima has been settled on by fishermen, and has afforded more pearls, coral, and fish than the other, which they named Kumijima, and sometimes Shuzen shima (both being his names); moreover, Kume Shuzen was made the king of both islands. Kume never got back to Japan to avenge his master the Lord Tarao. Indeed, he was better off than he had ever been before, and lived a happy life on the two wild Loochoo islands, which had not yet come under the Chinese rule, being too small to be thought of.

After some fifteen years Kume died and was buried on Kumijima. My story-teller says that those who visit the Loochoos and pass Kumijima will notice from the sea a monument erected to Kume Shuzen.

Footnotes

168:1 It is impossible to say exactly to which of the Torijima islands this story relates. There are two—one a rock islet some sixty miles east of Okinawajima, the main island on which is the capital of all the islands, Nafa; and the other or larger Torijima, between longitude 128° and 129°, and not far south of latitudinal line 38°. My story-teller declares the tale to be about the Rocky Island South, which charts show as 60 feet above water at high tide, by reason of there being an island adjacent called Kumeshima; while I argue that it is more probably about the northern Torijima, adjacent to which is a large island named Takuneshima, which might very well have been meant for Kumeshima. With Japanese, Chinese, and English names, these islands are very puzzling. The Japanese, though excellent map-makers, are bad geographers, changing names as they think fit.

175:1 Tori-bird Island.

33. Okureha is Saved by the Goddess XXIX THE PERPETUAL LIFE-GIVING WINE

BETWEEN the north-eastern boundary of Totomi Province and the northwestern of Suruga Province stands a lofty mountain, Daimugenzan. It is a wild and rugged mountain, clad nearly three-quarters up with lofty pines, yenoki, icho, camphors, etc. There are but few paths, and hardly any one goes up the hill. About half-way up through the forest is a shrine erected to Kwannon; but it is so small that no priest lives there, and the building is rotting away. No one knows why it was put up in such an inaccessible place—except, perhaps, one solitary girl and her parents, who used to go there for some reason of their own.

One day, about 1107 A.D., the girl was praying for her mother’s recovery from sickness. Okureha was her name. She lived at Tashiro, at the foot of the mountain, and was the beauty of the countryside,—the daughter of a much-loved samurai of some importance. Amid the solemn silence Okureha clapped her hands thrice before Kwannon as she prayed, causing mountain echoes to resound. Having finished her prayers, Okureha began to make her way downwards, when she was suddenly sprung upon by a ruffianly-looking man, who seized her by the arm.

She cried aloud for help; but nothing came except the echoes of her voice, and she gave herself up for lost.

Suddenly a piercing cold breeze came along, carrying the autumn leaves in little columns. Okureha struggled violently with her assailant, who seemed to weaken to the cold wind as it struck his face. Okureha weakened too. In a few seconds the man fell down as in a drunken sleep, and she was on the point of falling (she knew not why) and of sleeping (scarce could she keep her eyes open). Just then the wind came hot instead of cold, and she felt herself awake again. On looking up she saw advancing towards her a beautiful girl, apparently not many years older than herself. The stranger was dressed in white, and seemed to glide. Her face was white as the snow which capped Mount Daimugenzan; her brows