June 22nd
June 22 is the date on which the Christian peasants Mokichi and Ichizo of the fishing village Tomogi are subjected to the water punishment, a slow execution by drowning that the Tokugawa authorities use as a public spectacle to terrorize the remaining crypto-Christians. The event, which unfolds over two days, becomes the novel's most sustained and unbearable image of physical suffering met by divine silence, and it marks a decisive turning point in Sebastian Rodrigues' spiritual crisis.
Background and Official Proclamation
On June 20, officials ride into Tomogi and proclaim that Mokichi and Ichizo will be subjected to the water punishment on the beach. The two men had already been imprisoned and interrogated at the magistrate's office in Sakuradai after being taken as hostages from the village. During that interrogation, following Rodrigues' advice, they had initially trampled on the fumie, but when ordered to spit on the crucifix and declare the Virgin Mary a whore—a test devised by Inoue, who knew the peasants honored Mary above all—they could not comply. Mokichi wept, Ichizo shook his head in pain, and both confessed openly that they were Christians. Only Kichijiro, overcome by threats, performed the required blasphemy. After ten days in prison, Mokichi and Ichizo are now brought back to Tomogi for execution.
The Execution on June 22
On June 22, a procession approaches Tomogi along the rain-blanketed ashen road. Mokichi and Ichizo, their arms bound and heads hanging low, are surrounded by guards and mounted on horses. The villagers do not venture out; they watch from behind barred doors. At the shore, officials order a fire lit so the two men can warm their rain-drenched bodies, and someone gives them a cup of sake—a gesture that reminds Rodrigues of the soldier offering vinegar on a sponge to the dying Christ. Two trees are set at the water's edge in the form of a cross, and Mokichi and Ichizo are fastened to them. When night comes and the tide rises, their bodies will be immersed up to the chin. They will not die at once; the plan is for them to endure two or even three days of utter physical and mental exhaustion before ceasing to breathe. The authorities intend the prolonged suffering to be a visible warning to the people of Tomogi and neighboring villages never again to approach the Christian faith.
The Suffering and Death
As the tide comes in, the two forms do not move. The waves drench their feet and lower bodies, surging up the dark shore with a monotonous roar and receding with the same. In the evening, Omatsu and her niece bring food to the guards and ask permission to approach the men in a small boat. Mokichi is still able to reply when she calls his name, but the aged Ichizo can make no answer, though he occasionally moves his head. Omatsu urges them to be patient, telling them that the padre and all the villagers are praying and that they will go to Paradise. When she tries to put a potato into Mokichi's mouth, he shakes his head; he wants to escape the torment as quickly as possible and tells her to give it to Ichizo instead. Night falls, and the red light of the guards' fire is visible from the mountain hut where Rodrigues and Garrpe are hiding. The people of Tomogi gather on the shore, gazing at the dark sea, not knowing whether the two men are alive or dead. Then, mingled with the sound of the waves, they hear Mokichi's voice, gasping out a Christian hymn: "We're on our way, we're on our way to the temple of Paradise." On June 24, the drizzle continues. The tide recedes, leaving only the solitary stakes in the distance; it is impossible to distinguish the stakes from the men. Mokichi's moaning, like the sound of an animal, sometimes ceases and then returns, carried by the wind. In the afternoon, the tide comes in again, the black cold sea deepens, the stakes seem to sink into the water, and the white foaming waves break on the sand. Then all is over.
Aftermath and Rodrigues' Response
In the evening, officials arrive on horseback and order the guards to burn the bodies to prevent the Christians from taking the remains for veneration. When the bodies are reduced to ashes, they are thrown into the sea. The flame flares red and black in the breeze; the smoke flows over the sandy beach while the people watch vacantly. Rodrigues, writing from his hut, describes the sea as the grave of these two Japanese peasants who believed his word. He reflects that he had long read about martyrdom in the lives of the saints—splendid martyrdoms filled with glory, angels, and trumpets—but the martyrdom of Mokichi and Ichizo was a miserable and painful business: the rain falling unceasingly on the sea, the sea killing them surging on uncannily in silence. He cannot bear the monotonous sound of the dark sea gnawing at the shore, and behind that depressing silence he feels the silence of God—the feeling that while men raise their voices in anguish, God remains with folded arms, silent. This experience of divine silence, more than any physical threat, becomes the central crisis of Rodrigues' faith and foreshadows his own eventual apostasy.