ISHIKARI KRAFTU AINUISHIKARI KRAFTU AINU.
THE KAMUIKOTAN RAPIDSTHE KAMUIKOTAN RAPIDS.
On the north side of the mouth of the Ishikari River is an Ainu village called Raishats. Its inhabitants are not natives of this island, but were imported by the Japanese Government from Sakhalin when it was exchanged with Russia for the Kuriles.
At the entrance of the river, and close to this village, another wreck—of the "Kamida Maru"—a schooner, ended the mournful list of disasters on this inhospitable coast.
The Ainu of Raishats are different in some ways from the Yezo Ainu proper. They call themselves Kraftu Ainu, "Kraftu"[36]being the Ainu name for Sakhalin. Their skin is of a lighter colour; but the principal difference is in their eyes and eyebrows. The Kraftu Ainu have eyes of the Mongolian type, though larger, while the Yezo Ainu have not; and their eyebrows have a very pronounced curve near the nose. Most of the women seemed to suffer from consumption, and the men also did not seem as strong as the other Ainu. The women tattoo on their lips a small square pattern instead of the long moustache, and most of them have now adopted Japanesekimonos, or else wear gowns similar to those ofRussian peasants. Some also wear skin gowns similar to those of the Kurilsky Ainu, ornamented with feathers and bits of molten lead sewn on them. A velvet cap or a kind of tiara is their head-gear, and this also is ornamented with gold and silver or red beads, or else is embroidered in bright colours.
The children are arrayed in more gaudy colours than their elders. They have bright red embroideries round their necks, and the whole gown is full of spangles and beads, the proceeds of parental barter. A peculiar paunch-suspender, which I saw here for the first time, was ingenious, and answered a great want in the Ainu country. As will be seen later, the majority of Ainu children have huge paunches, mostly due to the inability of the hairy people to tie and secure properly the umbilical cord at the child's birth. This not only produces great discomfort to the child, but often causes its death. The belt which I saw was made on the principle that the weight of the paunch, under which passed a kind of net made of strips of skin, was supported by braces going over the shoulders, and by this contrivance, if the original lesion did not get much better it did not get worse, as it does when not taken any care of at all. Neither men nor women wore earrings; but the fair sex wore a kind of velvet ribbon necklace round their neck, and on this ribbon were sewn ornaments of molten lead, silver, and other metals.
The habitations, storehouses, and customs of these Ainu are similar to those of the others. As I slowly rode along the banks of the river just before sunset, retracing my steps towards the Ishikari village, I saw a hidden trail, which apparently led to the woods. I made my pony follow it, and shortly afterwards I came to a graveyard. As I have said, the Ainu are extremely jealous of their burial-places, and they resent strangers, even Japanese, going near them. It was nearly fifteen days since the accident to my leg had occurred, and though I could neither walk nor stand on it, still I was beginning to be accustomed to the agony, and with great trouble and pain I could dismount from my tiny pony. Strange to say, mounting was not so difficult, for I could pull myself up with my arms, lie flat on my stomach on the saddle, and then swing round, and it did not jar me as much as coming down. I had my paint-box fastened to the saddle, and I unlashedit to take a sketch. The tombs were so many trunks of trees cut and carved, and with one branch left on one side (seeChapter XXI.). One tomb particularly was more ornamented, and it had a flat-shaped monument, roughly but well carved at its head. An object resembling the bottom of a "dug-out" covered the body, and this was also carved. At each of the four corners a wooden blade was stuck in the ground. From the stench I should think that the body was only a few inches underground.
Fate had punished me so severely of late for faults which I never committed that I thought myself now entitled to commit a fault for the sake of squaring accounts. One of the small wooden blades, nicely carved, would just go under my coat. I decided to steal it. To my mind it was hardly a big enough crime even to balance the last accident I had had.
I turned round to see that no one was looking. I put down my paint-box, crawled to the grave, took the blade, put it under my coat, and, ashamed of myself for committing the outrage—though with prepaid punishment—I scrambled up on my pony as well I could, and hurriedly left the place. I rode back to the ferry, a long way off, and went across to Ishikari, and catching a moment when no one was watching me, I quickly passed the carved blade from under my coat into my baggage.
"What a good thief I would make," I thought to myself, when to my horror I remembered that in the hurry of leaving the graveyard I had forgotten my paint-box in the very same spot from which I had taken the blade!
If any Ainu had gone to the graveyard and found it, I would get into a nice mess! During the night I felt more than uncomfortable about it, and at dawn the next morning I got the tea-house man to bring my horse and set me on it, for I said, "I wish to go and see the sunrise from the other side of the river."
The landlord thought it rather funny, and funnier still when he saw me coming back a couple of hours later with a paint-box lashed to my saddle, while he said he was sure I had started without one.
"Did you not see it this morning?" said I with assumed innocence.
"No, your honourable," said he, drawing in his breath.
"You did not look for it in the right place," said I, and up to this day the landlord does not know where the right place was.
The Ishikari is one of the great salmon rivers of Yezo. About the end of September the salmon enter the river to spawn. They are in such abundance then that the stream is crowded thick with them, and it is quite sufficient to have a hook fastened to a stick to pull out a large fish each time it is dipped into the water. Millions of fine salmon are caught within a few days, and the banks of the river are packed with dead fish, while the whole population is occupied in splitting open each fish, taking out its inside, for preservation.
The same method of netting as is practised for sardine fishing is employed for salmon. Eighteen or twenty excited men vigorously row the boats out into mid-stream, and after describing a semicircle, return to the bank. The nets are hauled in, the fish flung out on the river banks, and the same process beginsde novo. A man in a "dug-out" watches when the salmon are more or less plentiful, and signals for the boat to start, while he himself spears them with a harpoon. At the right time of the year as many as 1500 or 2,000 and more good fish are caught each time the net is hauled in. This grand take of course only lasts a few days.
Though good, the Yezo salmon has none of the fine qualities of the salmon of northern European rivers, and it is not quite so good as that of the Canadian rivers. It does not keep so well, and in colour is much lighter than our salmon.
The Ishikari River opens to the north, and runs parallel to the coast, leaving a flat tongue of sand between it and the sea. Following the course of the stream against the current, it goes winding south, then sharply turns to the south-east, following this direction for about fourteen miles. Then again it winds up to the north, and then to the east for a distance of over one hundred miles, where its source lies in the very heart of Yezo.
The Ishikari carries a large body of water, and it is nine hundred and twenty feet wide near its mouth. Its "drainage area" has been estimated to be over three thousand square miles, including mountain slopes, while the actual valley doesnot, in my opinion, exceed eight hundred square miles. The river receives many affluents, of which the most important are the Rubeshibe, Chupets, Piegawa, the Sorachi River, and the Toyohira on its south side, and the Uriugawa on its north side. Near the coast the valley is wooded mainly with scrub oak, but further inland its banks are heavily timbered. The Sorachi River is the most important affluent on the south side. It is navigable for "dug-outs" and small sailing boats for some considerable distance. At Sorachi one strikes the new road which leads from the Poronai coal mines to Kamikawa, where the site has been chosen for the intended new capital of Hokkaido.
The road between Sorachi and the latter place not being metalled, was exceedingly bad owing to the heavy rains, and my pony continually sank in mud up to his belly. The road follows the course of the Ishikari River more or less; and in the woods is a military settlement like those we have seen near Nemuro and Akkeshi. At Otoyebukets the traveller must change horses. About eight miles further on one reaches the Kamuikotan rapids, a poetic spot: huge rocks in the water, violently rushing between and over them, form pretty waterfalls. The Ainu occasionally shoot down these rapids in their "dug-outs," and remains of these are to be seen here and there smashed on the rocks. From this point the road rises almost all the way, and the wayfarer must cross over the hill range, from the top of which the whole plain of Kamikawa can be seen, in the upper basin of the Ishikari, which, winding like a silver snake, intersects the flat valley.
Descending the hill on the other side, I reached the future capital of Hokkaido. It is indeed a town of the future, for at the present moment there are only five houses, if I may call them so. The site of this embryo metropolis is by the Chubets River; and on the hill called Nayosami I was told a palace for the Emperor is to be erected. However, they were not certain about it yet. It is a pretty hill, almost in the centre of the large plain, and from the top of it one gets a lovely view of a volcanic cone standing in front of you to the south. Near this hill the new road turns sharply almost at a right angle, and two miles further someTondenshave beenbegun (Ciuta Hombu). Hundreds of convicts, who, by the way, have made the road between here and Poronai, were at work continuing the same road towards the east. I believe that eventually it will be prolonged to the north-east coast, where it will end near Abashiri. In my opinion the scheme practically will be a failure, for Kamikawa will never be a flourishing place, as there is nothing to support a large population. From a strategic point of view of course Kamikawa has the advantage of being in the centre of Yezo.
Kamikawa is 342 feet above the level of the sea, but it is well sheltered, and the climate, though very cold, is not quite so severe as in other parts of Yezo.
The Ainu of the upper Ishikari are nearly the same as the Saru Ainu, only somewhat taller and more ill-tempered. They show greater skill than other Ainu in wood-carving and general ornamentation. Along the banks of the river huts are scattered here and there; but the largest number is at Chubets.
At the present moment the Japanese population of Kamikawa is, with the exception of half-a-dozen policemen and as many civilians, composed entirely of convicts. These are dressed in red coats and trousers, and those who have committed murder have the top of their head shaved in the shape of a bottle (Jap.,Hetzui). If any misbehave, they are beaten with the flat side of the long sword worn by the policeman in charge; but I must confess that otherwise the policemen are extremely kind in every way to these fellows. The well-behaved have one, two, or three small pieces of black cloth sewn to their left sleeve. They are made to work hard, but save this enforced diligence they seem to have a pretty good time. As I was talking to a policeman in charge, two dead men were brought on a cart by a man who had a towel over his mouth and a red blanket over his head. The two men had died suddenly. They had arrived only a few days previously from Southern Japan, where cholera was raging, and they had all the symptoms of having died of that deadly disease.
A very exciting way of retracing your steps down to the Sorachi River is to shoot the rapids in an Ainu "dug-out." You make one or two Ainu moderately drunk, as otherwise they do not seem anxious to attempt it, and when they are inthat pot-valiant condition you get them to paddle your canoe down the stream, while you sit in the bottom holding on to the sides. You start with the velocity of a turtle, increase it to that of a horse, then to that of a swallow, and when you are well in the rapids it is like travelling on an arrow. You go rubbing against rocks, and are shot in the air when going over a small waterfall, only to fall with a splash in the water some yards further, with an increase of velocity as you go on. It really requires but little skill to navigate rapids, for it is the current itself that does all the work. All that is needed is to keep the "dug-out" straight in the water. Of course if you should happen to collide with a rock when you are going at nearly double the rate of an express train you would have little chance of saving your life; but if you are neither smashed nor drowned, and you do not come to grief in any way, you can accomplish the journey, which takes you the whole day by land, in little over one hour when there is plenty of water in the stream.
On the road from Sorachi to Poronai, and halfway between the villages of Naye and Takigawa, a new coal mine has been discovered and opened, which is said to be very rich in mineral of good quality; in fact, superior to the coal of Poronai. It is ten miles from Otaussi Nai village, where the high road has to be abandoned if the mine is to be visited.
There are many Ainu both at Takikawa-Mura (Waterfall-River village), at Otaussi, and at Poronai-buts. Poronai has in its neighbourhood some rich coal mines. As others have reported more accurately and correctly than I can on the quality and extent of these coal seams, I shall abstain from repeating or copying what has been already said. I may, however, mention that the seams cut the valley of the Ikusum River eight miles from Poronai-buts, and a continuation of them is found near the springs of the Sorachi. The coal beds of Poronai are about three and a half feet deep, and many different beds have been found deeper than these, but of inferior quality. Poronai also goes by the name of Ishikishiri, and a large penitentiary has been erected here for the accommodation of the numerous convicts exported from the Main Island to improve the scheme for the colonisation of Yezo. I was called on by the chiefyakunin(officer), and he expresseda wish that I should inspect the prisons. A splendid horse was sent to convey me thither, and two policemen helped me on my progress through the buildings, owing to my inability to walk more than a few yards at a time. It was a large walled enclosure, with houses for the officials and cells for theakambos, a jocular term, meaning "babies," which is applied to convicts, because they wear red clothes like children. The buildings were beautifully clean, but what astonished me most was that no precaution whatever was adopted to prevent convicts from escaping. The outside gates were all wide open; there were neither soldiers nor policemen at the gates, and, moreover, theconciergewas himself a convict!
"But," said I, "do not many of these fellows escape?"
"Oh, no, not many. Last month only sixteen ran away," was theinsouciantanswer of my guide.
From Poronai-buts to Sappro there is a small railway, by which the coal trains are run to the coast as far as Otaru.
WOMAN OF ISHIKARI RIVERWOMAN OF ISHIKARI RIVER.
AINU BARK WATER-JUGSAINU BARK WATER-JUGS
Sappro, the present capital of Hokkaido, is a town of fairly large size, with wide streets intersecting each other at right angles. The Hokkaido-cho, a high red-brick building, the law courts, theKofikan, the palace built for the Emperor, and used now as a kind of hotel, and the houses of officials, are the main buildings of the place. There are, besides, a sugar refinery, a hemp and silk factory, and a brewery, mainly supported by the Government. Neither of the first two were "flourishing industries," and one of the factories, if I remember aright, had long ceased working, and the other was soon to follow suit. The Government, I must say, have done their best to encourage and push on industries as well as agriculture in this district, but their efforts have produced but poor results. Machinery, which had been imported at great expense from England, America, Germany, and France, was left to rust and perish, and no private company seemed ready to continue the works. As a farming region the Sappro district has also proved more or less a failure from a financial point of view, though again the Government cannot but be highly praised for the money they have spent in trying to educate the people up to some kind of scientific, and therefore paying, method of agriculture. They have a large model farm of about 350 acres laid down in grain fields, as well as in meadows and pastures, stocked with cattle imported mainly from America. In the Toyoshira valley, south of the town, acattle farm is in full operation, but it yields the Government a very poor return. However, the Government, I believe, only wish to teach the people foreign ways of agriculture, and expect no direct returns for the pains taken and the money sunk—so at least it would appear. Another colonial militia settlement is also found near Baratte, eight miles north of Sappro. Regarding these settlements, it may prove interesting to transcribe the Imperial Ordinance No. 181, dated August 28th, 1890, by which they were brought into existence and the Tondens were built:—
Article1.—Colonial Militia shall be composed of colonial infantry, cavalry, and colonial artillery and colonial military engineers, and shall be set apart for the defence of Hokkaido, where they shall be stationed.Article2.—The Colonial Militia shall be organised as soldiers, in addition to their ordinary occupation of farmers; shall live in military houses which shall be provided for them, and shall take part in military drill, in cultivation, and in farming.Article3.—The Colonial Militia shall also be composed of volunteers from cities and prefectures, and shall change their registered residence (Houseki) to Hokkaido, and live there with their families.Article4.—The term of service of Colonial Militia shall be twenty years: the service with the colours being three years, in the first reserve four years, and in the second reserve thirteen years. Should a colonial militiaman be released from service during his term, owing to the attainment of the full age of forty years, or through death, or some other cause, a suitable male of the family shall be ordered to fulfil the remaining term of service. Such service may be remitted if there be no suitable male.Article5.—The Colonial Militia shall fulfil supplementary military service during ten years after the end of service in the second reserve, and shall be mobilised in time of war or other emergency.Article6.—The term of each stage of military service under Articles 4 and 5 shall be counted from April 1st of the year in which the soldier enters the Militia.Article7.—The terms may be prolonged, even though the period for each stage has fully elapsed, should war or other emergency, or the requirements of military discipline, or the inspection of soldiers (kwampei-shiki) demand the same, or should the soldier be then in transit from or to, or be stationed in, a foreign country.Supplementary Rules:—Article8.—Colonial Militia enlisted before the carrying out of these regulations shall be treated according to the following distinctions:—(a) Those enlisted between the eighth year of Meji and the sixteenth year of Meji shall serve in the first reserve during four years and in the second reserve during nine years.(b) Those who were enlisted between the seventeenth year of Meji and the twentieth shall serve in the first reserve during four years from the twenty-fourth year of Meji, and in the second reserve after the lapse of the above period during twenty years, reckoned from the year in which they were enlisted.(c) Those who were enlisted in the twenty-first year of Meji shall serve in the first reserve during four years from the twenty-fifth year of Meji, and in the second reserve after the lapse of the above period during twenty years, reckoned from the year in which they were enlisted.(d) Those who were enlisted in and after the twenty-second year of Meji shall be treated in accordance with these regulations.Article9.—The mode of reckoning the terms of service of Colonial Militia levied before the twenty-first year of Meji shall be in accordance with Article 6 of these regulations. The term of service with the colours of those levied in the twenty-second and twenty-third years of Meji shall be counted from the day on which they were included in the Colonial Militia, and their term of service in the first and second reserves from the day next to the lapse of the full term of the former service.Article10.—These regulations shall come into force on and after the first day of the fourth month of the twenty-fourth year of Meji.(Colonial Militia.) Imperial Ordinance No. 181.We hereby give our sanction to the present amendment of the regulations relating to Colonial Militia, and order the same to be duly promulgated.(His Imperial Majesty's sign-manual),Great Seal.Dated August 29th, 1890.(Countersigned)Count Oyama Iwao,(Minister of State for War).(Japan Daily Mail, September 14th, 1890.)
Article1.—Colonial Militia shall be composed of colonial infantry, cavalry, and colonial artillery and colonial military engineers, and shall be set apart for the defence of Hokkaido, where they shall be stationed.
Article2.—The Colonial Militia shall be organised as soldiers, in addition to their ordinary occupation of farmers; shall live in military houses which shall be provided for them, and shall take part in military drill, in cultivation, and in farming.
Article3.—The Colonial Militia shall also be composed of volunteers from cities and prefectures, and shall change their registered residence (Houseki) to Hokkaido, and live there with their families.
Article4.—The term of service of Colonial Militia shall be twenty years: the service with the colours being three years, in the first reserve four years, and in the second reserve thirteen years. Should a colonial militiaman be released from service during his term, owing to the attainment of the full age of forty years, or through death, or some other cause, a suitable male of the family shall be ordered to fulfil the remaining term of service. Such service may be remitted if there be no suitable male.
Article5.—The Colonial Militia shall fulfil supplementary military service during ten years after the end of service in the second reserve, and shall be mobilised in time of war or other emergency.
Article6.—The term of each stage of military service under Articles 4 and 5 shall be counted from April 1st of the year in which the soldier enters the Militia.
Article7.—The terms may be prolonged, even though the period for each stage has fully elapsed, should war or other emergency, or the requirements of military discipline, or the inspection of soldiers (kwampei-shiki) demand the same, or should the soldier be then in transit from or to, or be stationed in, a foreign country.
Supplementary Rules:—
Article8.—Colonial Militia enlisted before the carrying out of these regulations shall be treated according to the following distinctions:—
(a) Those enlisted between the eighth year of Meji and the sixteenth year of Meji shall serve in the first reserve during four years and in the second reserve during nine years.
(b) Those who were enlisted between the seventeenth year of Meji and the twentieth shall serve in the first reserve during four years from the twenty-fourth year of Meji, and in the second reserve after the lapse of the above period during twenty years, reckoned from the year in which they were enlisted.
(c) Those who were enlisted in the twenty-first year of Meji shall serve in the first reserve during four years from the twenty-fifth year of Meji, and in the second reserve after the lapse of the above period during twenty years, reckoned from the year in which they were enlisted.
(d) Those who were enlisted in and after the twenty-second year of Meji shall be treated in accordance with these regulations.
Article9.—The mode of reckoning the terms of service of Colonial Militia levied before the twenty-first year of Meji shall be in accordance with Article 6 of these regulations. The term of service with the colours of those levied in the twenty-second and twenty-third years of Meji shall be counted from the day on which they were included in the Colonial Militia, and their term of service in the first and second reserves from the day next to the lapse of the full term of the former service.
Article10.—These regulations shall come into force on and after the first day of the fourth month of the twenty-fourth year of Meji.
(Colonial Militia.) Imperial Ordinance No. 181.
We hereby give our sanction to the present amendment of the regulations relating to Colonial Militia, and order the same to be duly promulgated.
(His Imperial Majesty's sign-manual),Great Seal.
Dated August 29th, 1890.(Countersigned)Count Oyama Iwao,(Minister of State for War).
(Japan Daily Mail, September 14th, 1890.)
Sappro was a civilised place compared to others I had seen in Yezo; but it had neither the picturesqueness, nor the strangeness, nor yet the interest of more uncivilised spots.
There is no doubt that savagery—when you have got accustomed to it—is a great deal more fascinating than civilised life, and infinitely more so than a base imitation of civilisation.
It might have been thought that after the months of privation to which I had been subjected, after all the harassing experiences I had gone through, after the accident which had made the last thirty days of my journey so agonising, I should have been glad to rest in this "London" of the Ainu country, at least until I was well again. But in truth this indirectly reflected civilisation worried me. The bustle of the people, the lights in the streets, the sounds of theShamesen—everything annoyed me.
His Excellency the Governor, Mr. Nagayama, kindly called on me, and when I put on some decent clothes which were lent me, he drove me to his house, where I had a lengthy conversation on the future of Yezo and the Kurile Islands. He seemed to approve of many of the points which I put before him, among which I suggested that the exports of sulphur from Kushiro, on the south-eastern coast, would be greatly increased if it were opened to foreign trade, and I was pleased to hear several months later that a motion to that effect was proposed in the Japanese Parliament. He also agreed with me that Yezo needed roads and railways badly, and that when more facile ways of communication should be established along the coast and across country, then without doubt Yezo would be rich and flourishing.
He expressed sorrow that emigration was not carried on on a larger scale from the Southern Island of Japan, and that private companies of capitalists in no way helped the Government.
His Excellency was also kind enough to drive me round the town and show me all the sights of Sappro, including the small museum containing zoological specimens from Hokkaido, and the implements of the Ainu and the Koro-pok-kuru. A huge grizzly bear which had killed two babies and a man is now stuffed, and occupies the first small room, while a bottle by the side preserves in spirit the head and foot of one babyand some parts of the man which were found in its stomach when captured and dissected.
I left Sappro for Otaru by the coal train. Otaru is situated on a semicircular well-sheltered bay, which makes it the best and only safe port on the western coast of Yezo.
The coast at the mouth of the Ishikari River curves gently round, and is exposed to the north as far as Cape Shakotan. Otaru is rapidly growing in importance, owing to the fact that it is the nearest shipping port to the Poronai coal mines. Unfortunately, three small hills, which were being levelled when I was there, had greatly interfered with the first laying out of the settlement, which accounts for the town being all crooked and irregularly planned. It has the appearance of a thriving place, and much resembles one of the small seaports of Southern Japan. In the main street a go-ahead tailor had written over his door the following inscription for the attraction of foreign clients: "Tailor. New Forms of every country shall be made here." The notice was tempting, and I went in to request his services in furnishing me with "new forms," as he called them, of English fashion; but to my great regret he had come to an end of his stock of goods, and I had to be contented with my "old forms," and go on as best I could with what I had till I should reach Hakodate, where I had left most of my baggage. At Otaru I left all my paraphernalia to be shipped to Hakodate by the first ship calling, and I proceeded by land on the north and then on the north-west coast. I felt that, suffering as I still was, I should keep alive as long as I kept moving, as long as I was distracted by new scenery and new excitements. I felt that if I were left to myself, not pitied or sympathised with, I should be able to drag on and conquer in the end. There is nothing, it seems to me, that makes people feel so ill or is so enervating as the sympathy of friends and the verdict of a doctor. Among civilised people nine out of ten do not know whether they are very ill or not until the doctor pronounces his opinion, which shows that many complaints would be scarcely felt at all if the patient did not know the name of his malady, or if he had sufficient determination as to prevent his physical pain from becoming a moral one as well. We have a proof of this in hypnotism, by which sicknesses of many kinds can be cured by impressing onthe subject the belief that his body is perfectly free from disease. Of course in this case it is a stronger will acting on a weaker one, which, so reinforced, is able to overpower the physical trouble. Again, I may be allowed to state that savages and barbarians, though affected with horrid diseases of all kinds, do not seem to suffer from them as much as we do. If an Ainu man breaks his leg he does not think for a moment of lying in bed for the regulation forty days; first of all, because he has no bed to lie on; and next, because the confinement and inaction would simply kill him. He may lie down on the hard ground for two or three days, after which time he crawls about as best he can until nature makes his broken bone right again. He does not worry himself much about it. Wild animals do the same. If, then, the Ainu, and with them savages of other countries, do that, why should not I, a human being like them, do the same?
Freed from the encumbrance of my baggage, I set off on a good horse down the north coast, and moving from east to west. My baggage now consisted of a crutch which I had made for myself, a stick, a couple of Japanesekimonos, and a few sketch-books.
The travelling was extremely slow, and I shall not dwell at length on this part of my journey, for it has no interest in connection with the Ainu, as I met with scarcely any. On a practicable and pleasant track leading all across the hills beyond Oshoro village, a lovely view of the cliffs between that place and Yoichi, lying to the west, is to be had. In some parts the scenery is really grand. Coming down on the other side of the hill, Momonai and Kawamura, two fishermen's villages of some importance, are passed, and further west, through a picturesque and narrow entrance of rugged volcanic rocks, is Yoichi, a large village, which was entirely burnt down last year, but has since been built up again. The road to Iwanai branches off at Kawamura, across the Shakotan peninsula. This peninsula is partly volcanic, partly composed of tertiaries, on which metal veins are found, especially along the course of the Yoichi River.
About three miles from Yoichi a small flax factory was being built as an experiment by a Mr. Tokumatz Kuroda, in the employ of the Mitzui Company. Twenty-five miles furthersouth-west of Yoichi is Iwanai. About ten miles from Kawamura, at Hando, a black tumbledown shed, like a haunted house, stands in the middle of the woods, and from here the track again goes over a mountain. On the other side is Iwanai. Five or six weeks previous to my arrival a large fire had destroyed nearly the whole of the village, and—just my luck again!—I had great difficulty in finding a place in which to obtain shelter for the night.
From Iwanai the coast-line roughly describes a semicircle, which is almost concentric with Volcano Bay on the south coast, the distance between the two seas being about twenty or twenty-five miles, so that it forms a kind of large peninsula stretching towards the south, and widening considerably at its most southern part on the Tsugaru Strait. The first two or three miles from Iwanai were a pretty flat and easy track, but then I struck the mountain trail, which was steep and heavy for my pony. It was raining in torrents, and the narrow track was literally turned into a running rivulet. By good luck the rain stopped, and when I reached the summit I had a glorious panorama of the brilliant rocks and cliffs of the Shakotan Cape to the north-east, with the Kamui and the Hurupira Mountains on one side, and the villages of Shiribets, Isoya, and Karibayama along the coast on the other. I descended into the valley and then went up again the next mountain, the Iwaonobori, a higher peak than the first. I went down its slopes on the other side in a zig-zag fashion, and then came to the snake-like river called Shiribets, on both sides of which a few fishermen's houses are found, forming the Shiribets village.
Three miles further is a larger settlement, Isoya, the half of which is called Notto Isoya, the other Shimakotan Isoya. It is a long row of fishermen's houses scattered along the coast until we get to Ushoro, eight miles further, a settlement of 120 houses.
Ushoro is connected by a road to Oshamambe, on Volcano Bay, but I went on to Shitzo, four miles north-west of Ushoro. The way was fairly good in some parts, and execrably bad in others. The heavy rain which had again come on was not exactly suited to my present state of health; moreover, it swelled all the small brooks, which fell in a seriesof picturesque waterfalls over the high cliffs down on to the beach. As the beach was narrow, this meant each time a cold shower-bath, which, however, did not much matter, for I was already drenched by the rain, and I had no very "swell" garments to spoil, as my readers know.
AINU HALF-CASTE CHILD OF VOLCANO BAYAINU HALF-CASTE CHILD OF VOLCANO BAY.
Shitzo is an old-looking place, but there is nothing attractive about it. It is in a small bay sheltered by Cape Benke, but its anchorage is only fit for junks or very small skiffs. It is much exposed to northerly and easterly winds. The coast from Shitzo to the Cape is lined with rocky bluffs and cliffs of conglomerate and volcanic formation, with bare hills inland.
There are many reefs stretching out, both along the coast and off the Cape; but in many places channels are cut in them, to all appearance produced by some remote volcanic action.
On the western side of Cape Benke is the village of Masatomari. There were formerly some Ainu villages on this part of the coast, but hardly any natives are to be found now. The few remaining have adopted to a certain extent Japanese customs and manners.
At Baraputa I heard that it was impossible to continue my journey south on horseback along the coast, for the track was almost impassable, even on foot. It was a steep and difficult trail over the mountains, among rocks and precipitous cliffs, and I was quite unable to accomplish it; so I retraced my steps to Shitzo, and from there struck across the peninsula on the road for Oshamambe, on Volcano Bay. The road is a good one, and when bridges are built where needed it will be practicable forbashas, the four-wheeled vehicles of Southern Yezo. The way is across mountains or among well-wooded hills. Kuromatsunai is the largest group of houses found along the road. It is about halfway between the two coasts.
Late at night, after having ridden twenty-five miles, I arrived at Oshamambe, a semi-Ainu village on Volcano Bay.
KOMATAGE VOLCANO, VOLCANO BAYKOMATAGE VOLCANO, VOLCANO BAY.
Oshamambe is a group of seventy houses, just midway between Mororran and Mori. The Ainu of this bay are poor specimens of their race, as most of them have intermarried with Japanese. They are, however, those most talked about by Europeans, for they are of easy access to globe-trotters.
They are mostly half-castes, and even second and third crosses; wherefore it is no wonder that the incautious travellers who have written on the Ainu, studying only these easily-visited specimens, have discovered in them a remarkable likeness to the Japanese!
The fact that I was rapidly nearing the end of my trip half filled me with pleasure, yet pleasure mingled with regret. It was nearly six weeks now since I met with the accident to my foot, and I was decidedly better. The cold weather had greatly contributed to this improvement of my condition; and had it not been for my bone which kept sticking out of my skin, I should have considered myself in fine case. I could hop along with my self-made crutch and my stick, and when ridingthe pain was not nearly as acute as it had been the first fifteen or twenty days.
As the road was good, and there was nothing interesting to me on this portion of the journey, I tried to push on rapidly towards Mori. Unfortunately, at the last minute my patience was put to a trial. I hired a horse, and it was lame. No others were to be had that day for love or money. The animal had been lame for two years, they said, and though uncomfortable to ride he did not suffer any pain. This I ascertained afterwards was true, for that day the sturdy brute carried me 48½ miles without once requiring punishment. It is needless to say that what I suffered that day by the continuous jerking is beyond description. I rode fourteen hours in a fearful storm of rain and snow, and my feverish anxiety to reach Hakodate soon, so that I might receive letters, and have news of my parents and friends—from whom I had not heard for five months—helped me to pull through all the fatigue and worry of the way. The road between Oshamambe and Kunnui is fair, getting still better towards Yurap and Yamakushinai. But to shorten the journey and lessen the jerking I followed the sandy sea-beach, which, describing a smaller circle than the road, necessarily diminishes the distance. From Yamakushinai the road is very good and wide, and it has nicely-built bridges over the Otoshibe and Nigori Rivers. The small fishing villages, though not so imposing in appearance as some of those in other parts of Yezo, add to the picturesqueness of the bay, with its beautiful volcanic cone of Komagatage towering in the distance towards the south-east.
The fishing in Volcano Bay consists mostly of mackerel, sprats, halibut, and herrings.
I reached Mori late in the evening, and was received with a friendly greeting by the people of the tea-house in which I had stayed on my way up at the beginning of my journey.
The place was brilliantly lighted with numberless candles, and opposite the entrance was a kind of altar decked with flowers and cakes. A fewbonzes, with their shaven heads and long, thin, depraved fingers, were saying their prayers and beating with a small wand on the round wooden bells. With the gods of Japan you must ring a bell or clap your hands before you begin to pray, or else the god will pay no attentionto your petitions. In the next room another Japanese, with less depraved fingers, but with a more wicked face, was dressed in European clothes, and was apparently giving a sermon, and sure enough he proved to be a native Christian minister!
"Hallo!" said I to the landlord; "what does all this mean?"
"Oh," said he, smiling—for Buddhism teaches you not to show pain—"my old mother is dead. You saw her when you were here before. She died yesterday, and as she was formerly a Buddhist and had become a Christian, I have now got some Buddhistbonzesand a Christian minister to pray for her, for I want her to be happy in the other world."
"But do you not think," I replied, "that so much praying of different kinds might interfere with her happiness?"
"Oh, no, your honourable," he said quickly, "I have paid thebonzesand the clergyman in advance, and the gods cannot get angry now!"
It was curious to notice the competition between the representatives of the two different creeds.
On the one side the Christian shouted his prayers and sang his hymns in a stentorian voice, to put thebonzesin the shade and get the start of them in the contest; and on the other side these rattled on the wooden bells with all their might, so that their prayers should be heard first. I was more than happy when this religious race was over, and I was allowed a few hours' rest.
Instead of going straight to Hakodate bybashaby the road I had already once traversed, I followed the coast in a south-easterly direction towards the volcano of Esan.
Near Usushiri, some two miles inland, are the hot springs of Obune, where, in a picturesque gully surrounded by mountains, are two dirty shanties for the benefit of those who wish to take the waters. At Isoya, five miles north of this place, similar springs are found, and three and a half miles south-east of Usushiri still more can be seen at Kakumi. The latter place is a picturesque little spot, with its three old sheds and the steaming bath-room framed in the multi-coloured foliage of trees with their lovely autumn tints. A clean path a few hundred yards long leads from the coast to the springs, and a track across the mountains is found between that placeand Hakodate; also another leading from Obune to the latter port. By both these tracks a most lovely view of Hakodate Bay can be obtained when the summit of the mountain range is reached. From Kakumi the coast-line is wretched for travelling, set thick as it is with stones as sharp as knives, while the waves continually wash over the narrow beach, drenching the wayfarer to the skin.
I reached Otatsube, a group of a few fishermen's huts; and as there is no traffic whatever along this coast, there were no regular tea-houses. Unfortunately for me, the British Squadron in the Pacific had spent the summer at Hakodate, and the ships had often gone for gun-practice somewhere near this place, scaring the natives to death, and furthermore angering them against foreigners in general, for they said the report of the guns frightened away all the fish. When I asked for food and offered money for it, they flatly refused me, saying contemptuously,—
"You foreigners come and scare all the fish away, and now you shall die of starvation before you shall get food from us. We do not want your money. We are rich."
And so I was held responsible for the doings of Her Majesty's fleet, which until then I did not even know had been in those waters!
At Furimbé, the next small village, only a few miles further on, my experience was even more unpleasant. Not only would they not give me food, but they would not shelter me for the night in any of the houses; and many of the fishermen, taking advantage of my wretched condition, were impudent to such a point that I thought we should have come to blows.
It was getting quite dark, and I was fearfully hungry and exhausted. The only course open to me was to push on, and see if I could come across some other hut where the owners were not so churlish. As it turned out, for the first time since I had been in Hokkaido I had some good luck that night!
A few hundred yards from this Japanese village, among the trees, was a little wooden shrine. Through the grating of the door I caught sight of offerings of cakes and rice which the religious fishermen had deposited on the kind of altar, probably to appease the angry gods, and induce them to fill the sea withfish again. The door of the shrine, as is usual in country places in Japan, was not locked, but a small outside bolt was all there was to keep it closed. I had no difficulty in entering. The night was a terrible one. The rain was pouring in torrents, and having had nothing to eat all day, I felt I had not the strength to go another yard. "After all," I said to myself, "the home of the gods, Japanese or not, is good enough for me. So is this supper," I soliloquized, swallowing now a white cake, now a red one, then a green one, till nothing but the empty vessels were left. "Delicious" was my last word, when, smacking my lips over the last green cake, I proceeded to make myself comfortable for the night. It is needless to add that I left very early in the morning, when the first rays of light broke the dimness of the night, and I dare say that, for the sake of morality, I ought to add that I was sorry for committing the sacrilege; but I was not—indeed I was not!
The mountain track continued, rough and steep in many places, and the autumn tints on the foliage were lovely, though not as varied as those of Northern America. Past Todohotke another volcano, the Esan, stared me in the face. Its crater, or rather its craters, for there are several, are not on the summit of the mountain, which is well rounded, but nearly halfway down its western slopes. Accumulations of very pure sulphur are deposited in and around these craters, and a continuous rumbling can be heard inside the mountain. The craters eject sulphurous vapours, and molten lava bubbles up as if in gigantic caldrons, congealing at the mouths of the craters and cracking with the extreme heat.
The coast-line is precipitous and almost impassable round Cape Esan, therefore the track leads over the mountain. The altitude of Esan is 1740 feet above the sea-level, but owing to its rising directly from the sea it has the look of a much more lofty mountain. Komagatage, near Mori, is 4,011, or more than double the height of Esan, while Makkarinupuri volcano, or Shiribeshi Mountain, as others call it, about forty-five miles south-west of Sappro, and ten miles north of Toya Lake, reaches an altitude of 6,440 feet.
Iwaonobori, which I passed on the north coast in this latter part of my journey, is 3,374 feet. Usu, on Volcano Bay,1868 feet. Tarumai, directly south of Sappro, only reaches a height of 2,800 feet.
When this volcanic part of the coast round Esan Cape is passed the track becomes easier and flatter. One comes again to the sandy beaches, and the coast is lively with numbers of fishermen's huts, and a couple of villages like Shirikishinai and Toi. One day's journey on horseback from here takes you to Hakodate. The Hakodate Peak can be seen in the distance to the west; and only a few more hours, only a few more miles, and I should be in civilisation, I should see a few European faces, and I should hear English spoken again.
As I approached the sandy isthmus, and the peak grew bigger before me, I wondered what had been going on in the world, and what news I should receive of my dear ones. I imagined myself already devouring with my eyes the hundreds of letters which must have been amassed at Hakodate, waiting for me during the many months I had been away. I imagined myself half buried in newspapers months old, anxiously reading the news of the world. I hurried on my pony, I crossed the sand isthmus—and there I was in the lively streets of Hakodate, gazed at by the astonished Japanese, who, I believe, were more than a little amazed—perhaps scandalised—at my turn-out.
Such as I was, and before I went to the Japanese tea-house, I called at the Consulate for my correspondence. Her Britannic Majesty's representative, who knew me well enough, was more than thunderstruck when I appeared before him in such a strange attire. He was smoking a pipe, and he almost let it drop, such was his surprise.
"Who are you?" he feebly exclaimed, looking me all over from head to foot. "Surely you are not Landor?" he said when I told him my name.
"I believe I am," I answered, "and I have come to trouble you for my letters."
"Oh, none have come; we have none," he said drily.
And now that I was not quite so well dressed as when I had called on my arrival at Hakodate from Southern Japan, he seemed anxious to see me off the premises as soon as possible, I dare say for fear lest I should expire on his doorstep.
"But theremustbe some letters," I said, as I was sadly leaving.
"No, there are none. Good-bye," he repeated.
The first glimpse of civilisation and of a civilised being was certainly not a pleasing one. In a town where there are hardly half-a-dozen British subjects, all told, I expected a better reception than one which many would not bestow on a beggar to a compatriot in a foreign country. Kindness costs nothing, and I was asking no favour.
I left the place disheartened, but feeling that the pompous official had made a blunder, unluckily at my expense.
Mr. Henson, in whose house I had left all my luggage, greeted me with open arms. He was kindness itself, and very different from the gold-collared gentleman of the Consulate. I must say that I felt most uncomfortable when, after having opened my trunks, I put on fresh clothes and boots; in fact, such was the change from my late airy costume that I caught a cold! I had now almost finished my self-imposed task. I had made the whole circuit of Yezo, and been up all its largest rivers, with the exception of that part of the western coast which lies between Barabuta and Hakodate. It would mean only a few more days of agony, and for the sake of completing my journey I left Hakodate again the next morning at 2a.m.in abashafor Esashi, on the west coast. The distance is fifty-seven miles, and we employed sixteen hours in covering it. It was snowing when we crossed the hills, and it was fearfully cold. Fortunately, the road is one of the best in Hokkaido. Just in front of me sat a poor man piteously ill withkaki. His body was dreadfully swollen and his limbs were stiff. What the poor man must have suffered in being shaken for so many hours is beyond description. His lamentations were heartrending. He had come to Hakodate in the hope of getting cured, and now he was returning—to use his words—"to die near his home." When we reached Esashi he was truly more dead than alive. He was senseless, and had to be lifted up bodily and carried into the house.
Esashi is a large place, and is one of the oldest towns in Yezo. In front lies a small oblong island, with which various wonderful tales of treasure are connected. Its harbour is toounsafe, being exposed to all winds, and I was told that the sea is always rough except during the months of July and August. I believe that this is greatly due to the currents.
I went north to Kumaishi and Cape Ota, the most westerly point of Yezo. About ten miles west of this cape is the small island of Okushiri, peopled mostly by Japanese.
The track is tolerably fair for about twenty-four miles as far as Kumaishi. It runs either along the beach or around clay and conglomerate rocky points, occasionally over the cliffs and through ravines. North of Esashi, along the Assap River, is a good stretch of cultivable land; then the thickly-wooded mountainous region begins again towards the north.
Kumaishi is said to be the best district for herring fishing along that coast.
From Kumaishi to Kudo numerous reefs extend out at sea, and small headlands afford a safe anchorage to junks. The track is mostly on a rough coast backed by high and well-wooded hills. Striking across the mountains, which rise sheer from the sea, we come to Cape Ota, the most westerly point of Yezo. From here the coast turns towards the north-east as far as Barabuta; but as it was impossible for me to go on horseback to that place, though only a few miles distant, I turned back and returned to Esashi, then following the coast towards the south to Matsumai or Fukuyama, one of the first Japanese settlements established in Yezo, and formerly the capital of the island. The coast is rugged and picturesque from Esashi to the two villages of Kaminokumi and Shiofuki, after which a mountain path leads to Ishisaki.
I found the Japanese on this coast most polite and honest, and more like the "old Japanese" than the younger generations.
The cliffs on the south side of the Ishizaki River were resplendent in beauty under the brilliant red and yellow light of the setting sun. Oshima (or Large Island) could be seen on the horizon in the distant south. Five miles further, across a mountain track, I came to Cisango, and five more miles beyond that place landed me at Haraguchi, two small fishing villages, with houses resting on high posts and against the cliffs, somewhat similar to the villages I found previous to my reaching the Ishikari River.
After that are eight or ten miles of a monotonous hilly road, where you do nothing but ascend and descend one small hill after another, up and down a snake-like or a zig-zag path; but when Eramachi is passed the track becomes much more interesting, with its peculiar groups of rocks of all shapes sticking out of the sea, and the long line of reef over which the breakers roll foaming and thundering. From here by the side of Oshima, another small island, "Koshima," is seen on the horizon. Going south the coast gradually gets more and more picturesque, with its pretty little fishing villages hidden among the rocks and sheltered under the high cliffs. At Neptka a good road leads over the cliffs to Fukuyama.
About a mile before the town is reached, from a high point of vantage on the road, is a pretty peep of Benten Island, just off the shore, with an old temple on it, and by its side a new lighthouse. On the shore, a few yards from the road opposite the island, a large rock is literally covered with hundreds of stone images of Amida and different gods, and twoTorii, sacred emblems of Japan, are placed in front of it.
I descended the slope gently and reached Koromatsumai, otherwise called Matsumai, or Fukuyama. It is a "dear old spot," the most picturesque of all the towns in Hokkaido. It is ancient, for one thing, while other places are modern—some villages, indeed, only a year or two old, or even less. Thus weather has toned down the light yellow colour of the new wood, which is so offensive to the eye in a landscape, and is so common in all Japanese villages of Yezo. Besides, Fukuyama has pretty temples on the surrounding hills, and prettily-laid-out gardens with tiny stone bridges, bronze lanterns, and dwarfed trees. It is more like a town of old Japan. It has a three-storied castle with turned-up roofs, as one sees on the willow-pattern plates.
The castle, formerly the residence of the Daimio, a feudal prince, is now a restaurant. The irregular streets of the town, the narrow lanes, the houses blackened by smoke and age, give a certaincachetwhich is peculiar to the place itself. The inhabitants, too, are more conservative than the younger colonists, and are quite "in keeping" with the place. Unluckily, the town has seen better days! It possesses no good harbour, and all its trade, little by little, is beingcarried away by its more fortunate rival, Hakodate. The population of Matsumai decreases considerably every year, as the inhabitants leave this poetical but dead-alive and decaying spot for the more exciting life to be found in newly-opened districts further east or north.
Between Fukuyama and Hakodate, a distance of over sixty miles, the road is extremely bad, and there is nothing whatever to see. Shirakami Cape is interesting as being the most southern point of Yezo, and from here the coast turns slightly towards the north-east.
Fukushima is an old village. The other headlands, and the Cape of Yagoshi, have no special features calling for attention. Near the latter cape the coast is volcanic, which renders it very rugged in shape and warmly tinted in colour. There are many villages along the coast, as Yoshioka, Shiriuchi, Kikonai, Idzumizawa, Mohechi, and Kamiiro, and the inhabitants seem well off and well-to-do people.
A great quantity of coal and firewood is carried on pony-back from these mountains to Hakodate. Rows of ten, twelve, or fifteen ponies one after the other, loaded with as much as they can carry, can be seen slowly travelling, under the care of one man, down to the principal port of Yezo, especially at the beginning of the winter season; and here and there stacks of split wood are piled ready for transportation.
Rounding the Hakodate Bay, I was again at the point whence I had first started, and happy that, notwithstanding all the ill-luck I had had, notwithstanding the strain on my physique, which is not by any means herculean, and notwithstanding all the obstacles which had come in my way, I had finally succeeded in doing what no European had ever done before, namely, in completing the whole circuit of Yezo at one time, exploring all its most important rivers and lakes, studying the habits, customs, and manners of that strange race of people, the Hairy Ainu, and visiting the Kuriles besides.
Many parts which I travelled over had never been trodden by European foot, and this made my journey all the more interesting to me. As the book stands I have related but the principal adventures which I had during my long peregrinations in Hokkaido, most of which are intended to illustrate Ainu customs and traits by my own personal experience ratherthan to excite sympathy for my hardships. Really, though the journey nearly cost me my life, I have never, in my extensive wanderings, enjoyed a trip more than that to Ainuland.
I have touched but slightly, and not more than was absolutely necessary, on subjects relating to the Japanese; for this is intended as a work on the Ainu.
I was happy yet sorry to be at the end of my journey! This was the 146th day since I first left Hakodate, and the distance I had travelled was about 4,200 miles, out of which 3,800 were ridden on horseback, or an average of twenty-five miles a day. The remaining 400 miles were either by steamer or canoe travelling.
From the day I broke the bone in my foot I travelled fifty-eight days, mostly on horseback, and the first time it was attended to and properly bandaged up was sixty days after it occurred, or two days after my arrival in Hakodate, by Mr. Pooley, chief engineer on board thess.Satsuma Maru.
Mr. Henson was again extremely kind, and pressed me to leave the tea-house and go and stay at his place, and after five months of "hard planks" I slept again in a comfortable bed. What a treat it was! What a curious sensation to sleep in a bed again, and actually have sheets and blankets! But this was not all, for surprise followed surprise.
The pompous Consul, who for the sake of saving himself the trouble of looking into his desk, had made my last portion of the journey wretched and sorrowful, found that after all he was mistaken, and on the breakfast-table in my place I found a packet of about 100 letters and newspapers, which the Consul sent to me with a message saying that when I called last time he had forgotten who I was, and therefore had forgotten to give me my correspondence!
Now that we have travelled round and through the country in every direction; now that we have seen where the different tribes of Ainu are, I shall attempt to give my readers some insight into the Ainu themselves, and their mode of living.