village who swam home a distance of seven ri, in bad weather, after his boat had been broken. But he was drowned afterwards.”
Seven ri means a trifle less than eighteen miles. I asked if any of the young men now in the settlement could do as much.
“Probably some might,” the old man replied. “There are many strong swimmers. All swim here,—even the little children. But when fisherfolk swim like that, it is only to save their lives.”
“Or to make love,” the wife added,—“like the Hashima girl.”
“Who?” queried I.
“A fisherman’s daughter,” said Otokichi. “She had a lover in Ajiro, several ri distant; and she used to swim to him at night, and swim back in the morning. He kept a light burning to guide her. But one dark night the light was neglected—or blown out; and she lost her way, and was drowned. … The story is famous in Idzu.”
—“So,” I said to myself, “in the Far East, it is poor Hero that does the swimming. And what, under such circumstances, would have been the Western estimate of Leander?”
