In Japanese folklore, there is a curious legend that is repeated in various current provinces of the country such as Hitachi, Kaga, Echigo, in addition to other historical territories like Owari no Kuni, Atsuta, or Iyo: the one about a boat of strange shape that came from the sea without anyone knowing its origin and from which an enigmatic woman disembarked who, not speaking Japanese, was unable to communicate with the local people, being returned to her ship to be lost in the horizon. It is called Utsuro-bune (also Utsuro-fune or Urobune, expressions translatable as “hollow ship” or “empty ship”).

This legend is recorded in four nineteenth-century literary works. The oldest, from 1815, is Oushuku Zakki (“Various Notes”), whose author was Komai Norimura. The second, Toen shōsetsu (“Tales from the Rabbit Garden”), written in 1825, is preserved in the city of Machida (Tokyo prefecture). The third, from 1835, is titled Hyōryū kishū (“Drift Diaries and Stories”), is anonymous, and is in the library of Tenri University (Nara prefecture). The last one, Ume-no-chiri (“Apricot Dust”), was signed by Nagahashi Matajirō in 1844 and belongs to a private collection in Nara.

Although all of them have some similarity, which probably refers to a common source, perhaps oral, the most detailed version of the legend is the one offered by Kyokutei Bakin. In the chapter Utsuro-bune no Banjyo from his Toen shōsetsu, he recounts that in the year 1803, some fishermen from the Harayadori area, in the province of Hitachi (belonging to the current prefecture of Ibaraki, on the island of Honshu), spotted a mysterious boat adrift which they rescued. It was 3.30 meters high by 5.45 wide, resembling its shape to that of a typical kōro, that is, an incense burner, or a rice bowl.

The utsuro-bune, drawn in 1844 by Nagahashi Matajirou for an edition of Ume-no-chiri
The utsuro-bune, drawn in 1844 by Nagahashi Matajirou for an edition of Ume-no-chiri. Credit: Public Domain / Wikimedia Commons

The boat was made of rosewood lacquered in red, although the hull was covered with bronze plates that protected it from the sharp corals on that coastline. It had several glass windows protected by bars and resin portholes; through them, the fishermen were able to peer inside, in which they saw the walls decorated with texts in an unknown language, although one of the characters resembled the current shield of South Korea. They also glimpsed various objects, such as a pair of sheets, a large bottle of water, and food (sponge cake and meat).

The most surprising thing, however, was the passenger who got off the ship: a young woman, barely in her twenties and of short stature (one and a half meters), whose appearance was completely different from that of Japanese girls: her skin was a very pale pink, and she had red hair with white extensions that might have been animal fur and also did not match any fashion. She wore long, soft clothes made of an indeterminate fabric, and when she began to speak, they couldn’t understand her either, just as it happened to her when they questioned her.

Although her behavior was courteous and friendly, she was adamant in her refusal to allow anyone to touch a small square box she carried in her hands. This sparked elaborate speculation, such as that she was a foreign princess condemned to maritime exile adrift for having an extramarital lover; he would have been executed, and she carried his head in the box, which is why she insisted on always keeping it close to her. The rumor didn’t come out of nowhere; the elders claimed to have found another box with such content some time ago.

Another artistic vision of the utsuro-bune, in this case for the Toen shosetsu of Kyokutei Bakin (1825)
Another artistic vision of the utsuro-bune, in this case for the Toen shosetsu of Kyokutei Bakin (1825). Credit: Public Domain / Wikimedia Commons

In any case, not only did they judge it impossible to find out the truth, but they also considered it a waste of time and effort, so they decided to return the woman to her ship and let her set sail again, as that seemed to be her fate. Another version says that they let her stay, and she grew old there. In fact, Nagahashi Matajirō tells the same story in his Ume-no-chiri with some minor differences, such as the black color of the Utsuro-bune, the whitish tone of the girl’s skin, and her extraordinary beauty. Otherwise, the data are practically the same in all the works reviewed.

Of course, there is no lack of the inevitable ufological vision that identifies the Utsuro-bune with an USO (Unidentified Submarine Object) and its passenger with an extraterrestrial being, whose inseparable box would be a tool of unknown function. It has even been compared to the case of Rendlesham Forest in England, recorded in 1980, and consisting of a series of UFO sightings over three days (flying lights and landing traces, basically, with fruitless intervention of police and military), although possible rational explanations for this incident have been given (reflections of a nearby lighthouse, a fireball, and even the new design siren of a patrol car).

For the Utsuro-bune, there are also more prosaic interpretations. First of all, it is necessary to take into account that Hitachi is not the only legend of that type; there are also on other coasts of Japan, like the ones mentioned at the beginning, and some are even older. Thus, the one from Koshi dates back to 1796, while the one from Toyohashi, described in the Hirokata Zuihitsu, is from 1698; the one from Owari goes even further back in time, to 1681. They have in common the arrival by sea of a foreign lady or princess – generally from India – who rewards the fisherman who saves her with the revelation of the secret of sericulture (silkworm breeding).

Digital artistic recreation of the Rendlesham Forest incident
Digital artistic recreation of the Rendlesham Forest incident. Credit: Prototyperspective / Wikimedia Commons

But undoubtedly, the oldest is that of Iyo, which places in the 7th century the story about a fisherman from the island of Gogo named Wakegorō who went out to sea to fish and found an utsure-bune with a girl on board. Here they could understand each other, and she told him that she was the daughter of the Emperor of China, escaped for fear of her stepmother. Wakegorō took her ashore with him and named her Wake-hime (“Princess Wake”). Later she, who introduced the first silk cocoons to Japan, married a local imperial prince, and they had a son, Ochimiko, who would be the founder of the Kōno clan. She is still venerated today.

Historians and ethnologists such as Kunio Yanagita (nicknamed “the father of Japanese folklore”) believe that these legends in which there is a maritime rescue constitute a widely spread tradition in the country, so one should not see anything unusual in them. According to him, the oldest versions spoke of humble circular wooden boats that would later be converted into larger and covered ships to increase the credibility of their navigation capacity, thus initiating the inevitable distortion of the original story.

Another scholar of the subject, engineer Kazuo Tanaka, took up the mantle from historian Kunio Yanagida to assert that the original legend was simpler and less fanciful, suggesting that it ultimately stemmed from a possible interest of the Ogasawara clan in expanding its territory by claiming locations, many of them fictitious, as their own.

A Portuguese carrack, an example of kuro-fune, in a 17th-century Japanese painting
A Portuguese carrack, an example of kuro-fune, in a 17th-century Japanese painting. Credit: Kano Naizen / Public Domain / Wikimedia Commons

He adds that in 1824 a British whaling ship ran aground in Hitachi, which could have further fueled the legend and added extra elements. It must be taken into account that Japan was completely isolated and it would take three decades for U.S. Commodore Perry to force the opening of its ports.

Thus, the metallic lining of the Utsuro-bune could have been inspired by the one used by Western ships to prevent shipworm, generally called kuro-fune (black ships) due to the tar used to waterproof them; in some versions, the utsuro-bune is of that color. In that sense, red hair was associated with demons and European barbarians, and in 1803, when the alleged incident occurred, the Dutch were the only foreigners allowed, with the added fact that only men were permitted, so a red-haired woman would be even rarer, and a shipwreck with a female survivor would have caused enough impression to enrich/distort the classic tale.

A variation of this was offered by the aforementioned author of Toen shōsetsu, Kyokutei Bakin, who in 1844 published a study entitled Roshia bunkenroku (“Record of Things Seen and Heard from Russia”). In it, he identified the clothing and hairstyle of the woman as being comparable to the style used by Russian women of his time, suggesting that the origin of the legend might be a real event involving a shipwreck survivor of that nationality or perhaps another but, in any case, Western. Bakin adds that the legend seems to draw inspiration from the experiences of Daikokuya Kōdayū, a Japanese sailor who was shipwrecked in the Aleutian Islands and spent nearly eleven years in Russia between 1782 and 1792.

A miko during a Shinto ceremony in Osaka
A miko during a Shinto ceremony in Osaka. Credit: jetsun / Wikimedia Commons

Furthermore, continuing with interpretations, the enigmatic box carried by the legendary passenger bears similarity to the gehōbako used by miko (young Shinto priestesses) and itako (blind female shamans) to carry their magical objects, among which there were – at least in earlier times – human skulls; something that inevitably recalls the head of the dead lover from the legend. On the other hand, Japanese folklore was rich in fantasy and paranormal beings, which perfectly fit the Utsuro-bune and its unfathomable lady.

There is an even more interesting theory. In the early 19th century, coinciding with the proliferation of legends like that of the Utsuro-bune, Japan experienced a series of immigration waves whose protagonists ended up settling in the country. Kazuo Tanaka suggests a relationship between both things, probably due to the interest of the immigrants in legitimizing themselves as descendants of royal families. This element of blue blood is recurrent, and a good example of this are the legends on the island of Tsushima.

They are similar to that of the Utsuro-bune but emphasize that social aspect. Thus, in one of them, a Korean princess appearing on a Sanatoyo beach is robbed and murdered, while in another, the noble Hanamigoze – who in one version is Christian, a faith persecuted in Japan between the 16th and 17th centuries – suffers a similar fate in Kamitsuma; in both, the respective local villages end up cursed. The story of the dead and plundered princess is repeated in Toyotama, but in Mametsu, it is Takami-musubi-no-kami, a god of Japanese mythology and creator of the universe, who arrives on a boat.


This article was first published on our Spanish Edition on August 5, 2024: Utsuro-bune, la leyenda japonesa sobre una extraña nave y su misteriosa pasajera


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