Sharp-eyed Hambei the Fisherman and the Invading Aliens

On a hot steamy summer’s day like the last few here in England, 163 years and 14 days ago, on July 8th 1853, something happened that would entirely change the course of Japanese – and world – history. Read my short story …

Sharp-eyed Hambei the Fisherman and the Invading Aliens

Sharp-Eyed Hambei is the first to see them.

Hambei is a name that marks you as a fisherman. There are a lot of Hambeis in the small port town of Shimoda – Lanky Hambei, Limping Hambei, Stuttering Hambei, Hambei the Half-Wit, Widow Okume’s lad Hambei, Hambei of the Sagamiya Inn, Hambei the priest’s son, Ten Flask Hambei who can down ten flasks of sake in a single night and the giant Hambei the Wrestler. The town is full of Hambeis.

Sharp-Eyed Hambei is always the first to notice the glint of shoals of fish. He’s good at finding birds’ eggs and shells and interesting-shaped rocks which he collects and carefully logs. He is also known as Long-Legged Hambei. In a crowd his head pokes above everyone else’s and he suffers endless jokes about his gawky carriage, but he’s liked for his rough humour and admired for his nimble fingers. He is quicker than anyone at untangling his nets and keeps the family fish barrels sparkling clean.

This year like everyone he is worried. The year starts off strangely. On the third night of the first month something shining appears above the ocean to the east. It shoots up into the sky, flashes over the town and disappears towards the southwest. A lot of people see it and everyone who does is frightened. Some say it’s a dragon, some a flying demon or a long-nosed winged tengu. Everyone knows such creatures exist, but you don’t expect to see one with your very own eyes or – even more extraordinary – that so many people should see it streaking by, trailing light across the heavens. It can only be a premonition of something terrible.

Okisa, Hambei’s wife, disagrees. ‘It’s not necessarily a bad omen,’ she murmurs the next day as she serves him dinner with their baby gurgling on her back.

‘Nonsense,’ Hambei’s mother snaps, bringing the conversation to a close. Hambei downs his grilled fish and pickled vegetables in silence, wishing she would leave Okisa alone. But the heavenly visitation gives him a bad feeling nonetheless.

Summer is particularly hot that year. For months there’s been no rain and the rice fields have dried up. The priests at the local shrine offer up sacred logs, tied with heavy ropes, and the villagers hold a ritual tug of war. But there is no response to their prayers. The fish don’t seem as plentiful as usual either. Hambei’s catch is pathetically small.

Then he has an idea. He and his father and his brother Gonsuké will set off well before daylight and sail right out to sea and try fishing the deep waters well away from the coast.

On the third day of the sixth month it’s so close that it’s difficult to sleep. Hambei tosses and turns. Well before dawn he wakes his father and brother. The air smells hot and humid though there are hours still to go before the sun begins to rise.

Hambei hears the roar of the ocean and the crash of waves as they go down to the beach where their boat lies on its side. Hundreds of boats bob in the bay. Big boats, small boats, patrol boats, fishing junks, ferries glint in the starlight. The three men, naked except for loincloths and rolled cotton towels knotted around their heads, arrange their nets, push the boat upright and heave it into the water, then climb on board. They round the headland and steer towards the open sea, their sail billowing in the breeze. The first rays of light streak the sky and the ocean begins to turn from black to a deep shade of blue.

Hambei catches the flash of fish and grins. ‘Prepare the nets,’ he shouts.

Then he glimpses a movement out of the corner of his eye. At that hour the vast expanse of ocean should be empty. He sees smoke billowing – a fire at sea. He swings round to take a better look and his heart leaps to his mouth. To the east, on the horizon, silhouetted against the pearly sky, is a black dot, skimming along faster than any earthly ship can move. It’s spewing out flame and smoke like a dragon. Most frightening of all, it’s flying against the wind.

Hambei is a working man, not easily scared, but his heart thumps hard and fear clutches at his stomach. He screws up his eyes and takes a good hard look. The best hope is that it’s pirates, the ones who terrorise shipping on the Inland Sea. Perhaps they’ve moved away from their usual hunting grounds. Or – he hardly dares frame the thought – it could be some supernatural sea creature or, worse still, a ghost ship that preys on boats that go too far out. He shudders as he remembers stories of whaling ships that have disappeared and fishermen who were never seen again.

As the sky brightens the dot moves rapidly closer and he sees that there’s not one but four. They are ships for sure, he can see that now. They have masts and sails but far taller than any he has ever seen in his life and they are larger by far than any ship can possibly be, as large as mountains, many times as large as the biggest warship in the shogun’s entire navy. They are monsters. Even as he watches they loom closer, flying along like demons out of a nightmare. The noise they make is like a dragon’s roar, like a thousand conch shells being blown all at once.

The noise they make is like a dragon’s roar, like a thousand conch shells being blown all at once
larger by far than any ship can possibly be … flying along like demons out of a nightmare …

With a shock of horror he realises that they’re heading not for Shimoda but towards the vast metropolis of Edo, the shogun’s capital. Shaking, he turns to his father and brother. Under their suntans they too are white as ghosts. They need to pull themselves together, get a warning out straight away, get a message up to Edo.

‘Sound the alarm,’ Hambei shouts, finding his voice at last. Sweat pouring off them, they swing the boat round, grab the oars and row for shore. As they get closer they see fishing boats bobbing towards them, heading out to sea.

‘Over there, over there!’ Hambei shouts, his voice hoarse with panic, swinging his arm wildly in the direction of the encroaching vessels. ‘Aliens. Alien invaders. They’ve come, they’re here. Go back! Sound the alarm!’

As the boat grounds up on the shore he hears alarm bells starting to ring, the deep-throated boom of the huge temple bells, the jangle of fire bells, and heaves a sigh of relief. A crowd gathers along the shore, staring aghast at the ominous black ships, bristling with cannon, speeding past towards the capital. Officials run out, issuing orders to disperse, to man the defences and prepare boats to intercept the invading vessels.

A crowd gathers along the shore, staring aghast at the ominous black ships ...’
A crowd gathers along the shore, staring aghast at the ominous black ships …

But these are not normal ships manned by human beings. Anyone can see that. Mesmerised, unable to move, Hambei stares in horrified fascination as the ships hurtle on, belching smoke, oblivious to the dumbfounded crowds lining the shore. Whoever is piloting such monstrous vessels, their intentions can only be hostile. He and his father and brother look at each open-mouthed, their eyes wide and frightened. The same thought is in every mind. Nothing can ever be the same again. Their lives are about to change forever.

Messengers gallop off to raise the alarm.
Messengers gallop off to raise the alarm…