12; August 12th, 1917 Somewhere in Kyushu: A Hike up Country

Desirous of revisiting a country hamlet a pleasant little spot, far off the beaten tourist track and interesting solely on account of the associations connected there with, the Pilgrim duly set out and after utilising railway and ricksha as long as practicable, fell back upon Shanks' pony (on foot) for the completion of the journey, resting or putting up at wayside inns as the spirit moved him.

The baggage problem seemed to be the main difficulty and, after the elimination of all but the absolutely essential, various makeshifts - from the employment of a carrier, to “going on the wallaby, humping one's swag,” when despatch ahead was impracticable - were resorted to. Many years previously, when leaving the train the Pilgrim, having considerably less regard for les convenances than the little he has at this later date, “went Fantee,” (going native) so to speak, and donning kimono and geta thus solved the baggage problem.

But again it is a case of “other times other manners,” as rather more appears to be expected from the father of a growing family and eke (absent) member of the Kirk; hence the methods of by-gone days were, Alas! not to be considered. (Mem. for incorporation in forthcoming work on philosophical maxims. The enjoyment of the traveller is in inverse ratio to the amount of his baggage.)

At the end of a long, solitary tramp one day a most untoward and distressing happening occurred. For the first time, the writer's Japanese vocabulary completely and effectually broke down. Fluency in this most attractive and difficult of languages was never claimed, but whether in town or country the Pilgrim has always hitherto been able to make himself understood. It is a painful confession, but on the occasion referred to, all his polite honorifics met with absolutely no result beyond a muttered “shirap” (vulgar, I don't understand).

The obtuse, monosyllabic gent referred to seemed to be a stone mason of sorts, employed with others about the repairing of a nearby house. It was at a place where the road forked and although that on the right looked the more inviting, as being the easier of negotiating, the Pilgrim had vague doubts as to it being the correct one to take, hence his cheery and polite “Good day” and enquiry of the obtuse one.

This was a problem that required thinking out so a seat was taken on a convenient stone and the perspiration wiped away from his heated brow. What had happened? Had increasing years brought on senility with loss of memory, or what was it? As a test, the writer went through the multiplication table, including the “nine times” column thereof that had ever been a stumbling block. Result, letter perfect, so it could not be loss of memory.

While mentally debating the point and planning an attack upon the obtuse one from a new angle, one of his fellow workmen came along, communication was immediately re-established and the necessary information as to the right road to be taken elicited. The newcomer explained further that the obtuse one was stone deaf and the only method of communication with him was writing. A knowledge of the katakana being one of the writer's accomplishments, the passer by, had there been one, might have discerned him apologising to the afflicted one by means of characters drawn with a stick in the dust of the road.

The Back of Beyond, date uncertain

The Pilgrim was sick. There was no doubt about it, very sick. Something had gone wrong with the works, either a touch of old Sol, over-exertion, or some cog in the internal economy had slipped. One afternoon, after a long tramp, the Pilgrim reeled into a Japanese inn, to which his baggage had been sent in advance, with a splitting headache, coughing and sneezing, and all the symptoms of an acute attack of influenza.

Tojitsu-michi

The host and his staff were kindness itself and did their utmost. One motherly old dame, (may the Peace of Allah rest upon her household!) credited with a knowledge of herbs and simples, took the patient in hand and after drenching him with an abominably tasting brew, which, however, seemed to allay the most distressing symptoms, went over him, inch by inch, muscle by muscle in massage, which resulted in a deep and refreshing slumber.

"I stood on the bridge"

It was some seven miles to the nearest doctor and desiring his services, one of the staff immediately set out, with the information that a foreign “danna san” lay sick at -- and required his professional services.

Country Scene near Unzen

"Mountains Clothed with Pines"

Aroused from a deep and refreshing slumber by whisperings, moving about, and a sense of a new arrival; the patient, on opening his eyes, was aware of a kindly featured old gentleman, who beamed through gold-rimmed glasses while he, bowed himself to the futon placed for him on the tatami at the side of the bed. The professional mien, together with the leather emergency case of instruments and remedies, proclaimed the new arrival to be the doctor. He spoke very little English but possibly, with a view of impressing the surrounding rustics, he made that little do yeoman service and it may be assumed that the old gentleman's reputation as a linguist is now locally “top hole,” so to speak.

En passant it may be remarked, that the ensuing consultation and medical examination was no private interview; a clinic comprising all hands and the cook, a number of neighbours, one yellow dog and some chickens, appearing to display a considerable amount of interest in the condition of the afflicted stranger within their gates, an interest which would have been embarrassing had it not been amusing. It must not be assumed, however, that the afore said multitude were actually inside the sick chamber as, apart from considerations of space, apparently the “front seats” were strictly reserved for mine hostess and the staff. Again, the “shoji” (paper windows) though drawn, seemed to be rather an advantage than otherwise, as by placing a finger in his, or her, mouth and wetting it, if said finger was lightly pressed against the paper a small hole resulted by means of which the observed could see without being seen.

When physician and patient ‘conversed’ in English it was as deep calling unto deep. True, there was but little of it, as the “real” business of the session was conducted in Japanese. Such as it was, however, it provided much food for subsequent comment and more-or-less giggling at the ditto unsuccessful attempts at imitation and reproduction, among the attendant “nesans”, in the adjacent cook-house, or at meetings at the local ladies Country Club - the communal “ igawa” (well).

As far as can be recalled, the extent of the pourparlers conducted in the future Universal language was as follows: -

Doctor. “A-ah! (with audibly indrawn breath) Good morning.”

Patient. “ Good morning, Doc.” It must have been several hours after sunset but the patient forbore debating the point.

D. “And what is your sick?” This while taking the pulse and warming up the thermometer. The patient intimated that giving it a name was up to him, but opined that it appeared to be a dose of super-flue and that he, the patient, was about all in.

However, whatever his limitations as a linguist, the old gentleman knew his business and after patting, pounding, pressing, listening to the wheels going round inside the patient; putting the latter through an examination as critical as that to which the applicant for a life policy is subjected, he departed, promising to send along the necessary medicine.

This arrived in due course, a quantity of bottles and packages sufficient to set up s small drug store. There were gargles draughts and two kinds of powders the latter in white and blue papers, all duly labeled with the name of the patient, date and directions. Unlike the familiar paper label pasted on the bottle to which one is accustomed, in Japan it appears to be the regular thing to affix a small wooden “tally” by a string to the neck of the bottle.

Thus passed two days when in consequence of professional skill and the care and attention of the hostess and her staff, the patient, shaky on his pins but fit to travel, set out on his return to Nagasaki.

Shimabara Castle

Shimabara Castle

11: August 10th, 1917 Nagasaki: Japanese Whalers

There is a certain large, foreign general store here which seems to be an informal club, as therein one meets all sorts and conditions of men hailing from the seven seas, whose stories are a joy and delight to the seeker after “copy.”


Mr. X., the urbane and gentle proprietor, in his many years of residence in Japan has acquired a host of many interesting and not a few exciting experiences; his stories anent bygone days in Nagasaki being particularly interesting. Given a wet day with the cares and requirements of business not too importunate, seated by the open cracker bar'l, one gathers some idea of the local social amenities of some forty years ago.

It must have been a particularly thrilling experience, for example, somewhere in the early 70's, when for a week or so the popular amusement of the local Samurai - annoyed at the curtailment of their privileges - exhibited their displeasure at the changing times by cutting down inoffensive people encountered on the streets, without the slightest apparent pretext.

The few foreign residents, it was gathered, acting upon instructions received from their respective Consuls, kept themselves indoors as much as possible during this exciting period or, when forced to go abroad, carried a complete and comprehensive edition of International Law (Coke upon Littleton, as revised by Capt. Colt) in their hip pockets or, more conveniently for a quick draw, under their left arm. Various accounts of that period seem to indicate that survival appeared to resolve itself into a mere matter of “quickness on the draw.” A sword unsheathed “one inch” was by established custom considered to indicate that the wearer of same meant serious business, hence the sight of that amount of cold steel was considered ample justification for shooting down any swashbuckler, even though he was dropped before the sword was fully unsheathed and brandished.

During this, fortunately brief, period, many inoffensive townsfolk were cut down without the slightest provocation. A number of British naval seamen, spending the evening at Maruyama, presumably at the Y. M. C. A., were murdered in their beds without a chance of defending themselves.

Into the store one wet afternoon drifted a breezy, blue-eyed Norseman, the commander of one of the fleet of steam whalers which operate on the Japanese coast. This gentleman's life afloat apparently is one prolonged thrill, and his stories, together with photographs, in one of which one saw the harpoon actually entering the whale - while the smoke of the gun mounted on the fo'c'sle was slowly dispersing to leeward were extremely interesting.

From this gentleman's account of present day methods, whaling seems to be no longer carried on in the manner depicted in Bullen's “Cruise of the Cachelot.” Steam and the harpoon gun have rendered the exciting boat work obsolete - at least insofar as whaling in Japanese waters and the adjacent seas is concerned, thus another big slice of the romance of the sea has departed.

Beyond the cold and exposure, life in a Japanese whaler does not appear to be unduly arduous and almost every night sees the vessel snugly at anchor in some sheltered cove, pending an early start again the following morning.

Sea-cuts and salt water chafes appear to be the most prominent discomforts, always excepting the first portion of what is universally known afloat as the “sailors' delight.” The latter portion, however, of that condition - the “empty belly” - cannot he said to be applicable, as the boats are invariably “well found.”

The procedure seems to be, as soon as the lookout in his dizzy cage at the masthead reports “kugera” and its bearing, to steam as slowly and as silently as possible within range. Then comes the exciting moment. A miss, and away goes several thousand Yen for the owners, and shares pro rata for captain and crew; a hit, and the triumphant ones return with the whale in tow.

Some species of whale, especially the sperm, at times put up a stiff fight; have indeed, been known to charge the steamer and the impact of so many tons, plus momentum, is no trifling matter. Bang! Goes the gun and as the harpoon enters the whale, the barbs open out and the bomb attached explodes, deep in or below the blubber. Away rushes the whale dragging out the large five inch line of Italian hemp, care being taken to prevent if possible, the whale sounding (diving.)

At the earliest opportunity, the line is put on the steam winch and hove in, the engines assisting to ease the strain and, when within range, more harpoons and bombs are fired into the whale which finally becomes exhausted, when the steamer is hove close alongside and the whale receives the coup de grace with lances.

The discomforts attendant upon flenshing and trying out are nowadays avoided by the simple expedient of lashing the whale alongside the steamer and towing it to the shore station, where a large staff of both sexes attend to that most disagreeable aspect of the whaling industry. Besides the valuable oil and baleen obtained from the carcase, whale-meat for the table is taken and esteemed, if not exactly a delicacy, at least as a valuable adjunct thereto.

10: August 7th, 1917 Nagasaki: O Suwa-jinsha

The pilgrim's arrival at Nagasaki was attended with rain which settled into a steady downpour for three days, a cold snap with unsettled weather ensuing.

In spite of the rain, which was very welcome, as the local water supply question was arriving at an acute stage, a number of short trips were made to places of interest in the vicinity, among which was one to O Suwa-jinsha, a Shinto shrine known to foreigners as the “Bronze Horse Temple.”

O Suwa, The Shrine

After the passing of 22 years since a former visit, it was expected that many changes would be noticeable, but little if any were observed. No alteration was expected in what might be termed the “permanent” features of the shrine; the large bronze “torii”- one of the largest and most massive in Japan - still reared its impressive architrave at the foot of the many flights of stone steps leading up to the shrine. It was possibly a deeper shade of “vend antique,” but otherwise unchanged. One significant feature however, is to be recorded - the airy abandon with which the Pilgrim addressed himself to the ascent of the many stone steps; “petered out” much sooner than on the occasion of his last visit to O Suwa Sama and the passage of the years was instanced by the more sedate and deliberate manner in which the remaining three-quarters of the flights were negotiated, not to speak of the grampus-like condition in which he arrived at the top. O tempore! O mores!

After a visit to the shrine, a turn to the left brings one to the Public Park close by, a natural forest of giant cryptomeria and cherry trees, which latter are one of the sights of Nagasaki and the local of innumerable family picnics when loaded with blossom. The hardy Yama Matsu (mountain pine) abounds everywhere and it is astonishing to note how little subsoil appears to be necessary to support this luxuriant vegetation, as is seen in cases where a landslip discloses how little lies between the surface and the disintegrating volcanic rock.

From a clearing to the right, in which is found the inevitable tea-house, an exquisite view of the harbour, the approach from seaward, with the many houses, hills, valleys and ravines of which the town consists is gathered. This tea-house seems to have been entirely rebuilt since the Pilgrim's previous visit. Gone also are the charming and vivacious nesans O Tsuru, O Hana and O Ume San, the responsive “hai!” to the clapping of the Pilgrim's hands and the fulfillment of his request for a long, cold drink given by Hebes of a younger generation. just as comely, vivacious and ready to chat with the wandering “Horrander San,” as their protypes of a score of years ago.

"The Long Flight of Stone Steps"

“Horrander San,” it maybe stated, is a corruption of Hollander San, a term of derision once applied to all foreigners, who were supposed to hail from that “neutral” kingdom, of which the accredited representatives in Cathay display such a charming tendresse for the Hungario-Austro-Boche. Nagasaki is about the most conservative and Japanese of the original treaty ports of all of which it was the first opened to foreign commerce. The trade was entirely in the hands of the Dutch, who, under many and humiliating restrictions, were confined, almost as prisoners, to their factories at Dejima, once a small islet in the harbour but nowadays, in consequence of a completed scheme of reclamation, a portion of the town proper.

Twenty years ago it was not an uncommon experience in the suburbs for the foreigner, taking his walks abroad, to be followed by a band of children, with cries of “Horrander San, Horrander San.” This, however, is one of those incidents which nowadays are not mentioned; education and the efforts of the now defunct “Welcome Society,” (whose dissolution in 1914 after 21 years of usefulness is greatly to be deplored) probably having done much towards the elimination of anti-foreign sentiment.

With many regrets and promises to return soon - the Pilgrim bid farewell to O Suwa San and descend to the waiting ricksha, and so back to that dinner which the inward monitor said was somewhat overdue.

The return road taken is extremely picturesque; it borders a small river - now in the dry season in places merely a trickle, - whose banks and part of its bed are overgrown with a wealth of foliage and creeping plants. Large, overshot water wheels also betoken the presence of a number of rice mills.

With a chuckle, the blandishments of Mr. Nakamura, as per signboard, are resisted and this somewhat startling invitation to all and sundry arouses considerable speculation. Either the gentleman is an advertising genuis, or, despite the multiplicity of educational establishments which abound in this land, the schoolmaster is still very much abroad. The invitation reads:

Nakamura Tailor & Company

Come in and have a fit

Big Torii of Suwa Shrine at Nagasaki

The Bronze Horse of O-Suwa

O Suwa Koen (park)

O Suwa Koen

9: August 7th, 1917 Obama: Obama to Ainomura

Punctual to the moment, the motor was in attendance at the hotel and, the customary presents having been exchanged between the staff and the departing guests, the pilgrim had the novel experience of leaving a hotel otherwise than by passing through an avenue of palms - open and extended.

The car proved to be a seven-seater “E. M. E.” 30., the speedometer recording a distance of 6,509 miles travelled since its installation or last resetting. It had evidently seen good and hard wear but was fit for service and the upholstery was comfortable. The fare to Ainomura, it may be added, is one Yen for each passenger and this sum including a reasonable amount of luggage.

The (Goodrich) tires were in prime condition, although the much-advertised “safety tread” had all been worn away. For such a route and roadbed, it was gathered, nothing but really first-class tires will stand the hard wear and the calls demanded of them, hence the chaffeur was a staunch upholder of the “Goodrich” productions.

Eight persons, including the chaffeur, somehow managed to stow themselves in the car for the forthcoming joy-ride. One could perhaps imagine the feelings and reflections of a sardine, while being tucked away in its little tin. The baggage being hoisted on board safely lashed outside, with a toot on the asthmatic horn, the car started off at a good clip which was increased to about 25 miles an hour on clearing the town.

The level stretch, however, did not last long and soon after passing the bathing beach where many visitors were observed, splashing around in the surf, or enjoying a sun-bath on the strand; the level road was left and the ascent of the mountain began.

The local population met with en route appear to be “well broke” to motor cars, children, chickens, horses and other domestic animals similarly so. With bullocks, however, which are led by a nose ring, greater precautions have to be adopted and they are usually led to the side of the road and held, stern on to the car, until the latter has safely passed.

The down hill trip was particularly exhilarating, some portions being of the “free wheel” description seemingly, implying the provision of good and efficient brakes.

Actuated by a desire to interest and entertain the passengers, a gentleman pointed out a particularly hair-lifting curve, which skirted a drop of a few hundred feet and informed us that some time previously at this spot a car took the descente rapide and brought up among the pines down below.

As we were rapidly approaching the fatal spot, the Pilgrim enquired if this taking the short cut was a regular thing, or only an occasional thrill for the amusement of the passengers, if the former, would he kindly tell the driver to stop as the physician had prescribed walking as a healthy occupation as in the present instance. Profuse explanations followed, showing that this tipping up stunt is strictly an “extra” and not included in the one Yen outlay.

From Ainomura to Isahaya, the junction with the main line, one travels by a small local railway whose locomotives, built by Messrs. Sharp, Stewart & Coy., at the Atlas Works in 1871, like Charlie's Aunt, are still running.

In a previous contribution it was stated that, probably as a precautionary measure, the trains slowed down while passing through the long tunnel which is met soon after leaving Isahaya on the way to Nagasaki. A more careful observation, however, proves this assumption to be erroneous, it being the steep gradient, entailing a heavier drag on the locomotive, that is responsible for the apparent slowing down. To qualify this amende, it may be stated that the impression is further intensified that travelling upon the Imperial Japanese Railways would be rendered much more agreeable with a substitution of anthracite for the abominable soft coal at present in use.

8: August 7th, 1917 Obama: At Yanagawa-ya

The days pass enjoyably at this seaside resort, the time being occupied by trips to the bath, sea-bathing, walks and explorations in company with several friends who are also staying here, or lazing around in deshabille.

No limit had been fixed as to the duration of the stay, which might be three days or a fortnight, but the end came suddenly, like a bolt from the blue.

Bathing Beach at Obama

Splashing around in the surf one morning, one of the ladies unfortunately lost her wedding ring and this was considered such as unfavourable omen that she immediately decided to leave Obama and no persuasion could prevail upon her to change her announced determination of leaving as soon as possible.

Arrangements were made accordingly to return to Nagasaki the following morning and as the steamer route presented no attractions to any of the party after their recent experiences on the outward trip; the necessary passenger and cargo space was reserved in one of the two motor-cars which ply between Obama and Ainomura. Followed the delights of packing up; the landlady was interviewed, bills paid and the supplies of rice, charcoal and other commodities that had been laid in, handed over "for the good of the house" and after an exchange of the usual compliments and presents, as friend Pepys hath it, " and so to bed."

At Obama, however, sleep is found difficult of attainment before midnight, as numerous strolling instrumental players pass and repass, their tinklings, twangings, tootlings and warblings, for the most part pitched in a minor key, although not at all unmelodious, effectively prevent one from "catching the bird" and the futons are forsaken for a final pipe or two on the verandah, which overlooks the main street.

They are not early birds here at Obama, as the street is still thronged with passers by. A parry of musicians with flute, shamisen and gekkin go by; "Hototoguisu," the tune they are playing has a haunting elusive refrain and the pilgrim removes his pipe in an attempt to whistle a soto vice obligato.

Anon with slow but not uncertain footsteps, although totally blind, an elderly professional gentleman passes, announcing both his infirmity and his profession by striking together two pieces of hard wood. This is a celebrated local amma, on his round of visits among his extensive clientele. Massage is a greet institution at Obama and many beneficial results are reported as to its efficacy, especially in cases of rheumatism.

Now comes a bevy of ladies whom, from the gorgeous nature of their apparel, and certain peculiarities in the manner in which it is worn, the pilgrim concludes are ladies of the geisha, returning from some entertainment.

Geisha Dance

 

Immediately below the verandah is a stall at which the ladies stop, one of their number making some purchases thereat. The pilgrim opens pourparlers by wishing the ladies "good evening," with the information that "it's very hot, isn't it ?" Bows, smiles and arch upward glances greet the friendly advance and a mild exchange of chaff ensues, the ladies giving a fair Roland for the pilgrim's Oliver until at length, the purchases being concluded, the pilgrim's "sayonara, please come again soon" meets with a laughing response and their musical laughter mingles with the "clic-clack" of their geta (wooden clogs) as they pass on their way. Such little adventures serve but to accentuate the regret at the impending departure.

The hour grows late and by now the street is comparatively deserted, but now along comes some roistering reveller "all lit up, with back teeth awash" and his face flushed a fiery red from his sustained observation of the sake-bowl. His coming is announced some time ere he lurches into view by the staccato gasps and gurglings and the weird guttural sounds which occasionally pass for music in this land. Tack-and-tack he comes along the road, colliding with a hydrant, to which he raises his hat, bows and apologises, ere setting a course on the next tack, that will clear a telegraph pole on the other side of the street.

His gyrations are observed without enthusiam by junsa-san, who sternly reproves him for his lack of deportment. The admonition, of which the words "baka-ga" are overheard, cause the hilarious one to square up and hurry on his way from this dangerous proximity. But it is now near midnight and the pilgrim knocking the ashes out of his pipe, turns in for the night.