CHAPTER XIX.

Completing the Circuit of Yezo--The End of my Journey.

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 riding the 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 48-1/2 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 few _bonzes_, 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 attention to 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 Buddhist _bonzes_ and 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 the _bonzes_ and 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 the _bonzes_ in 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 by _basha_ by 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 place and 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 with fish 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 there _must_ be 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 2 A.M. in a _basha_ for 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 with _kaki_. 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 too unsafe, 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 two _Torii_, 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 certain _cachet_ which 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 being carried 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 rather than 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 the SS. _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.