The fleet of small boats set out before dawn. There had been reports of whales in the Tsushima Strait to the north, and the islanders were eager to set sail. It would not be long before it was taifuu season, and then the islanders' vessels would not be able to go to sea for fear of being swamped by the great waves. Lanterns were hung from the masts of the boats, and the fleet's lights glowed blue in the morning twilight.

Harada fingered the crucifix beneath his overcoat and offered up a silent prayer to the Christian God. If the reports were true, then his share in the kill would be enough to feed his family for a month. Then, just to make sure, Harada invoked the kami and the buddhas. He wanted nothing left to chance.

Hikosane was on watch on the prow of the boat. He had the sharpest eyes in the village, and was reputed to have once seen a cricket in a stand of bamboo almost a cho away. The cold sea air cut through the straw of his jacket, making him shiver. He stared out towards the horizon, searching for the signs of whales: dark shapes moving through the water, white-topped waves, drops of water shimmering momentarily in the sunlight. Was that - ? Could it be - ? Hikosane shielded his eyes. He had to be sure. Then he was.

"Whales! Whales! To the north-east!"

He pointed just off the starboard side of the bow. Behind him, Hikosane heard the clamour of the oarsmen as they swung the boat around. In the stern, one of the whalers stood up and began waving a pair of flags, signalling to the other boats to follow them.

The fleet was practiced in whaling. Slowly they turned towards the north-east, their long hulls cutting through the ocean as the oarsmen pulled hard on their sweeps. They raced towards the school of whales, scattering the creatures. One of the whales fled in the wrong direction. This would be their victim. The fleet turned again, surrounding the lone creature and driving it further away from the others. They harried it, keeping it on the surface, forcing it back towards their home island.

It was afternoon when the fleet finally stopped. They had cornered the whale in the bay, blocking its escape to the sea. The villagers were on the sands, waiting to drag the animal ashore and butcher it. The whale, sensing that the end was near, lay still in the water. At a signal, the lines of boats and villagers closed around it. The water in the cove soon turned red.

That night Harada and his family lit candles, both for the spirit of the whale and to give thanks to whatever deities had granted them their good fortune.