past the Awa whirlpool. It was pitch dark and we could see to neither right nor left. As we passed the whirlpool men and women alike prayed fervently to the gods and Buddhas. Near dawn we passed a place called Nushima, and then Tanagawa. Pressing on in great haste, we arrived at Nada in Izumi Province. Today there has been nothing approaching a wave on the sea—it seems as if the gods and Buddhas have granted us their protection. It is now the thirty-ninth day from when we first embarked. Now that we have reached Izumi Province, there is no need to worry about pirates.
High seas detain them for three days at Nada.
Fourth day, third moon: “Today, judging by the wind and the clouds, we shall have very bad weather,” said the pilot, and we did not venture from this harbor. But all day long there has been not a sign of wind or waves. Even as a judge of the weather, this pilot is useless. Along the beach of the harbor were innumerable shells and pebbles of great beauty, and someone in the boat, still unable to think of anything except the child who is no longer with us, composed this poem:
Wash your shells to my ship, o waves!
I’ll gather forgetting-shells for one I loved.
Another, equally unable to bear his grief, and sick in spirit after the trials of the voyage, replies:
I’ll gather no forgetting-shells, but jewels,
Mementos of the jewel-like one I loved.
In grief even a father grows childlike. It might be said, I suppose, that this particular child could hardly be likened to a jewel—but “a departed child has a beautiful face,” goes the proverb…
Fifth day: Today we made haste out of Nada, and steered for the harbor of Ozu. Pines stretch endlessly along the beaches. … As we were rowed along, admiring the view and talking of this and that, a sudden wind rose, and no matter how desperately the boatmen rowed, we were driven slowly backwards. The boat was in danger
