Treasure Island
Part 1
Ebisu stood on the beach that morning, gazing out upon the waves.
How many days had he been marooned on this accursed isle?
It was a flimsy parcel of land, flat as a plate, rimmed on all sides by white sands dotted by a sparse population of coconut palms. In all the surrounding ocean not another island could be seen, and the sky was as deep a shade of azure as the watery depths below.
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The treasure ship had put out to sea that year as it always did, its hold laden with precious coral and gemstones, serenely plying the Pacific on its way to the land of Japan. It was steered on its voyage by the Seven Gods of Fortune: Jurōjin, Fukurokuju, Daikokuten, Bishamonten, Ebisu, Hotei, and Benten.
But one day that fair weather had abruptly turned foul. A great storm came upon them, and despite Ebisu’s valiant efforts, wave after wave crashed upon the ship until at last he was swept from the deck.
When next he awoke he had washed ashore upon the beach. Day was breaking over the horizon, and the sea was quiescent, as though the storm of the previous night had been but a dream. His current predicament notwithstanding, he was fortunate that his beloved fishing rod and black eboshi had washed up nearby, but the treasure ship was nowhere to be seen. And what of the other gods?
Fitting the bedraggled eboshi on his head, he began to bemoan his fate, when a cheery voice hailed him.
“Hallo!”
He turned around to see Hotei waddling toward him.
“Splendid, Lord Ebisu, you live!”
By Hotei’s telling of it, he had attempted to prevent Ebisu from being swept away by the waves only to be carried off along with him. Ebisu choked back tears of guilt and gratitude, but Hotei merely laughed his merry laugh. “Think nothing of it!” he chortled, swinging his sack and scratching his plump belly.
They waited on their little island for a ship to come. They fished. They gathered coconuts. They built bonfires. So the days passed, each as indistinguishable from the next as one piece of Kintarō-ame is from another.
The diverse contents of Hotei’s sack certainly came in handy, but it was Hotei’s very presence which proved to be most reassuring to Ebisu. Ebisu is frequently depicted with a beaming smile on his face, but in fact, of the Seven Gods of Fortune he was the most fretful of them all. Though there might be a smile on his lips, inwardly he was oft tormented by unease.
On the other hand, Hotei was as full of sunshine on the inside as he was out. He was of the belief that, as gods of fortune, it was unthinkable that misfortune should befall them.
“Only wait, and fortune will smile on us,” he would say, lolling beneath the shade of a palm tree.
A feeling of utter tranquility would come over Ebisu whenever he beheld Hotei’s great wobbling belly, accompanied by a certainty that what Hotei proclaimed must be true. Yet come nightfall, as he lay there listening to Hotei’s stertorous slumber, a stream of anxieties would steal into his heart. Would the treasure ship really find its way back to this small isle? Had it even survived the storm? If Hotei was right and no misfortune could befall them, then why was it that they had been beset by such a baleful tempest?
An ominous presence lurked in the waters.
And often it was that Ebisu would lie awake with these thoughts until the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon.
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Ebisu plodded down the beach. His crushed eboshi was nigh unrecognizable, his kariginu1 had faded and lost its hue, and his once immaculate hair and beard were matted and unkempt. The insouciant Hotei seemed to be quite enjoying life on this deserted island, but to Ebisu, who was firmly of the belief that a god of fortune must always lie in resplendence, these conditions were intolerable.
It was his custom to begin each morning with a walk around the perimeter of the island. It was shaped like the crescent moon, with the eastern side curving inward, and it was there in the indent that they had washed ashore. A stand of palm trees embraced the beach, extending across the island to the western shore, and it was there that Ebisu and Hotei had set up camp. Little else was of note; the rest of the island was sand, and it took hardly any time at all to walk the whole way round.
Ebisu began as he always did by strolling up the beach to the north, then coming round the west down to the southern tip. Nary a sail was to be seen in all that vast expanse of ocean to his right. But when he reached the bottom of the island he spied a gauzy pink object washed up on the sand.
What was this?
Ebisu started towards it at a trot.
Lying facedown on the beach was Lady Benten, another of the Seven Gods of Fortune, swaddled in her pale pink raiment. Her fair countenance was encrusted with sand, and her pearlescent hagoromo2 was tangled around her limbs like a snake. Ebisu quickly took her in his arms, whereupon she let out a little sigh. She was as limp and heavy as a sandbag, and her cheeks were cold and pale.
Ebisu hoisted her onto his back and ran.
When he arrived back at camp, he found Hotei trying to knock down a coconut with a long pole, grunting, “Hey! Ho!”
“Lord Hotei! Come quick!”
“What is it, have you found some treasure?”
But even the easygoing Hotei was astonished when he saw Benten.
What followed was a frantic effort to revive Benten. They warmed her by the fire, fed coconut water into her mouth, drop by drop, and ere long a touch of colour returned to her face.
“What happened, Benten?” inquired Ebisu.
Benten related the sad fate of the treasure ship. Once the storm had passed, and the rest of the gods realized that Ebisu and Hotei had been swept overboard by the waves, Jurōjin ordered the voyage to be postponed. They swept the waters searching for their lost comrades, for how could a treasure ship bring fortune if it left two gods of fortune behind?
“They are gods of fortune. There is no doubt that they have survived,” Jurōjin proclaimed, and so putting faith in his words the rest of the gods scoured the waters. But for all their efforts they failed to chance upon even a single island, let alone the two stranded gods. After several days had passed even Jurōjin began to look haggard, and an air of hopelessness descended upon the ship.
But it was the sea monster which followed that drove them to despair.
It was Benten who had first noticed its unseen presence. Looking down from the stern she perceived what appeared to be a mysterious wave, smooth and round as a hillock, following in their wake. Yet not a whale or even a school of fish was to be seen beneath the surface: it was as though it was the breath of the sea itself which pursued them. Not even the learned Jurōjin or Fukurokuju could divine what it was, and the arrows Bishamonten and Daikokuten loosed simply passed through harmlessly. And without Ebisu―god of the sea―at the helm, they never had a chance.
At last the monster caught them. The sea opened up, and like a yawning pair of jaws, clove the ship in twain.
“Jurōjin, Fukurokuju,” cried Benten, dissolving into tears, “Daikokuten, Bishamonten, the sea took them all!”
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That awful revelation struck Ebisu like a bolt of lightning.
If only I had managed to stay on board…
The thought gnawed and gnawed at him. As the god of the sea, this voyage was his responsibility. If he had remained with the treasure ship, perhaps they would have escaped the leviathan.
But it would not do to mope around forever. It was their sacred duty to see the treasure safely over the billowing waves. Now that they knew that no one was coming to rescue them, they must see the duty through themselves. And of the three he must bear the greatest burden. The fate of Japan now rested upon his shoulders.
The following morning, Ebisu walked alone to the north shore. It was home to a few sparse palm trees, from whose parts he had lashed together a little fishing raft. But it was far too flimsy to take the three of them across the sea; even supposing that they could fill Hotei’s sack with provisions for the journey, they needed a sail to catch the wind, and a basic cabin to shelter them. The work would be substantial.
With a stick Ebisu drew a plan in the sand, then began the work of felling the trees. His only tool was a hatchet which he had taken from Hotei’s sack. As he laboured and sweated beneath the glare of the sun, things began to seem less dire than they had. After he had worked for a stretch he sat beneath a palm tree to drink some water and cool off.
In a little while, Lady Benten came strolling barefoot down the beach just above the water’s edge. She was back to her usual self; her long hair was tied back with a length of string, and the hem of her robe was pulled up so as not to become entangled in her feet. Her hagoromo fluttered and danced in the wind.
She came up and sat down with a soft flump beside Ebisu.
“Do you really think we’ll make it to Japan?”
“If we do not we should certainly at least find our way to a more hospitable island than this one.”
“I wonder,” she murmured. “We ought to be cautious, Hotei says.”
“But the treasure ship won’t be coming for us.”
“That may be so, but some other passing ship might.”
“Benten,” said Ebisu with a sigh, “I have walked the perimeter of this island every morning I have been on this island, including the morning that you washed up. Not once have I seen the slightest hint of a sail. If we wait for rescue, we may be waiting for an extremely long time. And I would not put much faith in what Hotei says. He claims that no misfortune can befall a god of fortune, and yet the treasure ship lies at the bottom of the ocean. What do you call that, if not misfortune?”
“You are right,” replied Benten, lowering her gaze to the ground. “Nothing could be more terrible than this.”
Ebisu said nothing, conscious that he might have gone too far. He knew that he was only venting his frustration on Hotei. Only wait, and fortune will smile on us: he had been clinging desperately to those words, but now he felt a sense of betrayal.
Lady Benten got to her feet, brushing the sand from her robe.
“I had better be off. I worry for Hotei.”
“Hotei can take care of himself. I’m sure he is sprawled out comfortably somewhere.”
“He is anguished, too,” said Benten with a smile. “In these times we must console one another.”
As she turned to leave, her eyes fell on the fishing rod which lay by Ebisu, and asked if she might borrow it. As Ebisu was occupied with the raft, perhaps she could catch some fish in his stead. But Ebisu’s rod was imbued with magic, and it would answer only to him.
“The offer is more than enough,” he said.
She smiled ruefully.
“I wish I could be of more help, rather than simply rely on you for everything.”
Watching her go, Ebisu took up his hatchet again. He felt a curious vigour spread through his body. How wonderfully it lifted his spirits, to aim and swing and sweat. Each stroke of the ax brought them closer to escape from this island. How aimless seemed the days they had spent fruitlessly waiting for the treasure ship to rescue them.
After making some progress on the raft, he caught some fish, and then returned to camp, filled with a sense of accomplishment which he had not felt in some time. He built a fire in the shade of a tree, then began to prepare dinner.
“May I interest you?” broke in Hotei, and from his sack he produced a tokuri.
“Hotei! You’ve been holding out on the sake all this time!”
“I was saving it for a special occasion. And one more thing,” he added, unveiling an exquisite biwa. Benten was overjoyed at the sight.
“How lovely! My own biwa was lost with the ship.”
“It is yours. There’s no sense letting it gather dust in my sack.”
The sun sank below the horizon, and the stars began to twinkle in the indigo canvas above.
It was the most wonderful night Ebisu had had since he washed ashore. They roasted fish, listened to Benten’s song, and savoured their first taste of sake in a long while. Benten plucked the biwa as she sang, illuminated in profile by the crackling fire. The stars in the sky, the swaying palm trees, the rolling silver sea beneath the light of the moon: it was as though all creation paused to listen to her sing.
In his inebriated state, Ebisu felt his worries dissolving in the gentle caress of the music, as though nothing mattered any more…
Maybe the simple life wouldn’t be so bad…
Startled at what had just passed through his mind, Ebisu quickly shooed the thought away.
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Where once he had sat idle, now Ebisu could hardly find a moment’s rest. He still made his rounds every morning, just in case, but his efforts to complete the raft continued unabated. Neither could he afford to neglect the task of fishing, for it seemed as though no sooner had he brought a fresh catch to camp than Lady Benten had polished it off. Yet as busy as he was he found it far preferable to simply waiting around.
There was one problem, however, and that was that his relationship with Hotei had broken down.
One evening Ebisu came back to camp to find Benten fast asleep on a luxurious sleeping mat, its splendid scarlet fabric embroidered with golden thread, looking as comfy as could be. It could only have come from Hotei’s sack, yet all the time that the two of them had been stranded Hotei had never so much as breathed a word about it.
“I could not let the good lady sleep on the ground,” said Hotei dismissively. “Could I now, Ebisu?”
Ebisu was not convinced.
Since that day Hotei had produced a veritable stream of luxuries from his sack to make life on the island more comfortable: sun parasols, mirrored dressers, fragrant cakes of soap, fluffy towels, brand new yukata. But it was quite evident that all these things were for Benten’s benefit.
Ebisu’s resentment grew as he observed this display of largess. How comfortable their lives would have been, if only Hotei had been this generous from the start.
On one occasion, he even witnessed Hotei sneaking Benten a peach. He had been on his way northward to the beach to work on the raft, when he realized that he had forgotten to bring a drink to quench his thirst. As he passed through the palm grove, he heard Benten squealing in delight.
“Come, my sweet,” Hotei was saying.
He felt a prickle of unease, and wondering what they could be doing while he was away, he quietly crept behind a palm tree and peered around it.
This was the sight which met his eyes: Hotei was proffering a great big peach to Benten, who gazed upon it with sparkling eyes as though it were a birthday present. “Delightful!” she proclaimed after taking a bite. How tender, how juicy, how sweet.
How delicious that peach must be, and they’re eating it without me!
Peaches were a particular favourite of his, and he was so overcome with indignation that he could not bring himself to call out to them.
His ire would have been more than justified by this string of slights alone, but what made the fire blaze all the hotter was Hotei’s refusal to help with the raft. Only wait, and fortune will smile on us, he still opined, even after what they had learned, driving Ebisu to his wits’ end.
“Do you intend to live here forever?”
“That is not what I have said.”
“And yet you will not lift a finger to help me.”
“I ask you, Ebisu, how can a simple raft possibly hope to survive these waters? I would much rather take my chances waiting for a ship to happen upon us.”
“And how long would it be, then, before we set foot again on the shores of Japan?”
Once Hotei’s cheerful certainty had been a source of hope, but that had been when they still expected the treasure ship to come for them. Now that they knew that would certainly not happen, Hotei’s optimism had begun to ring false. It seemed to Ebisu that he had forgotten his duty as a god of fortune.
Did he even want to leave the island?
After the quarrel, Ebisu peevishly stomped off to the beach. His feet carried him to the southern beach, where Lady Benten had washed up that morning. He threw himself down and gazed broodingly over the black waves. After a while, Benten came along.
“You mustn’t be cross, Ebisu.”
“Hotei has it all wrong.”
“Is that what you think?”
“You agree with him?”
“I am afraid. A fell beast lurks in these waters. If the treasure ship could not escape it, what chance does a simple raft have?”
Ebisu’s mood turned yet fouler. He was the only one who could rescue her from this island. Why did she not trust him? She must have been seduced by that neverending stream of tribute which Hotei produced from his sack. His anger towards Hotei grew even hotter.
“Benten,” said Ebisu, “Pay Hotei no mind. The raft will soon be complete. And when it is, I will take you away from here.
Lady Benten suddenly let out a little shriek and clung to his arm.
“Look!” she cried, pointing at the sea.
The sight made Ebisu’s blood run cold. A hump was rising out of the sea, moving slowly along its surface. What could it be? Try as though he might, he could make out nothing but the dull silvery sheen of the waves atop that massive hump, circling the island at a fixed distance.
“That’s the leviathan!” said Benten, a quaver in her voice. “That’s the beast which sank the treasure ship!”