Unfortunately, the Ainu of this region are not very numerous, and constant intermarriage among near relations has proved detrimental to the race. However, a glance at them is quite sufficient to show the difference between them and Ainu of other tribes. They are not so picturesquely arrayed as their more western brothers, and the large Japanese brass and silver earrings, as well as the glass bead necklaces which make such a brave show yonder, are replaced here by rough bone or wooden ornaments. Men and women in summer are almost entirely naked, and all children are clad in their own bare skins only. Their winter garments are made of bear and deer skins. Some peculiar snow-sandals, made of the bark of a kind of ash-tree called shina, are sometimes worn over the winter salmon-skin boots or moccasins. The Ainu make their ropes out of the bark of this shina, though often young vine stems are used for the same purpose. River fishing-nets are generally made of young vines twisted. They are of the roughest description, and are only fit for rivers where fish is abundant, as in the Yezo watercourses. The Ainu at Frishikobets took very kindly to sitting for their portraits, and one after the other—all the best types—were immortalised either in oils or in pencil. Strange to say, I came across another old woman, a lunatic, very similar to the one I saw at Yammakka. Her face was that of a witch, her eyebrows joining downwards somewhat in the shape of an owl's beak. Her long pale hands and face, and the long wild hair covering half her face, gave her a striking appearance. She had, however, not yet reached the stage of imbecility which her Yammakka sister had attained. Lunacy is very common among the Ainu, and the unfortunate creature thus afflicted seems to lose not only the respect, but also the pity, as well as care, of all the others, and is treated by them as a worthless animal.
After crossing the Frishikobets River, some distance off, on the east side of the Tokachi River, are the villages of Upar-penai,[19] twenty-one Ainu huts, Memuro-puto,[20] sixteen huts, and Ottoinnai,[21] fourteen huts. Then comes Kinney, with seven houses; and finally Nitumap,[22] the last village on the Tokachi River, has as many as thirty-six houses.
The huts of the Tokachi region are much smaller than those on the Saru River, and near many of them is a cage, in which a big yellow or black bear is confined. The natives told me that yellow and black bears were numerous in the neighbourhood. Deer (the yuk, male deer, and mowambe, female), were formerly plentiful, but now are very scarce. A few years ago a pestilence killed great numbers of them, and since then they have dwindled away.
Not many miles from Frishikobets a huge cliff rises perpendicularly along the Shikarubets River. A landslip seems to have taken place, which leaves one side of the cliff perfectly bare and rugged, showing the strata composing the soil. It is of a light yellowish colour, and it is called by the Ainu the Shikarubets Otchirsh, which translated into English means "the white cliff on the bend of the river." This cliff stands very high, and can be seen from a great distance, especially in a north-east, east, or southerly direction. In winter, when the rushes and reeds are not so high in the south-eastern portion of the plain, the white cliff can be distinguished from the whole of the Tokachi valley. The Ainu themselves use the Shikarubets Otchirsh as a landmark when out hunting bears. Owing to its light colour it is visible even at night. I was anxious to ascend it, as I was sure no European foot had ever trodden on it before. Accompanied by Watanabe Masaru, I started out on horseback and crossed the Frishikobets village and river. Here we left our horses under the care of an Ainu till our return. We had to cross the Tokachi in an Ainu "dug-out," and then, proceeding for several miles in a northerly direction, we arrived at the foot of the mountain. It would have been impossible to climb it on the east side, as it is quite perpendicular; but we were fortunate in getting an Ainu called Unacharo, who said he knew a point from which we could ascend, and that he would show us the way. He had been hunting bears on that mountain, and he knew its slopes well; but as to the way which he was to show us, we had to make it for ourselves. With our large knives we were forced to break, cut, and tear the entangled branches of trees and shrubs before we could get on. We actually had to cut our way through the dense scrubwood until we reached the summit. The ascent was rather dangerous in some places, and extremely rough when going through the brushwood. We had to keep as much as possible near the edge of the cliff, for though it involved more danger if we slipped or stumbled, the entangled shrubs were not so thick on the edge as farther inland. Finally, after several hours' hard work, we reached the top, and were well repaid for our fatigues. The whole of the Tokachi valley was stretched before us as far as the sea, and almost the whole course of the winding river, with all its numerous affluents, could be distinguished like so many shining silver ribbons on the green background formed by the tall grass and reeds. As a farming region the Tokachi valley and high plains are certainly the most fertile in Hokkaido. All the requisites for successful agriculture can be found there. The absence of the mountain masses of volcanic rocks, so common all over Hokkaido, the richness of the soil, the quantity of water for irrigation or for motive power, besides the comparative facility of making roads on such flat ground, are qualities that good farmers do not generally despise. It is therefore a great pity to see all that Tokachi valley practically deserted and so much good land wasted. Hemp, wheat, corn, potatoes, beans, and all kinds of vegetables and cereals, could be grown with advantage, and the produce carried down the river to the sea without much difficulty and at little expense. At Yamakubiro the land begins to rise in a gentle slope, but only to form a plateau, of which the top is another large plain reaching to the foot of the Oputateishike mountain mass. The Otopke Mountain is the highest peak, and resembles in shape the Fujiama of Japan. On the north-east side of this mountain are the hot springs of Ni-piri-bets.[23] A kind of wood is said by the Ainu to be found near these hot springs which is good for curing wounds, cuts, rheumatism, and other ailments. These hot springs are not of much importance, and it is but seldom that even the Ainu themselves visit them. In going to and returning from these springs the Shikarubets Otchirsh is never lost sight of by the Ainu, and by the aid of this landmark they return safely to their homes.
All the Oputateishike mountain mass is volcanic, and forms the backbone of the island of Yezo. From the Shikarubets Otchirsh I was able to draw a bird's-eye view of the course of the Tokachi River and its affluents, which afterwards helped me much in delineating a sketch-map of the Tokachi region, with its complicated watercourses. The two high mountains of Satsumai and Ghifzan could also be plainly seen from there. Coming down was much easier than going up, and when we had again reached the bottom of the mountain we turned northward until we came to the Shorui-washi River, an affluent of the Tokachi. Previous to this, while following the course of the Otsu River, I saw a strange sight. When on the summit of the Shikarubets Otchirsh I had seen two Ainu "dug-outs" pass up the river, and the Ainu who accompanied us said we should soon see them coming back again. We were not far from the river banks when shouts and cries of excitement reached my ears. I hurried on to the water-side and saw the two "dug-outs" swiftly coming down with the strong current, parallel with each other at a distance of about seven feet apart. There were three people in each "dug-out," viz., a woman with a paddle steering at the prow; another woman crouched up at the stern, and a man in the middle. A coarse net made of young vines, and about five feet square, was fastened to two poles seven or eight feet long. The man who stood in the centre of each canoe held one of the poles, to the upper end of which the net was attached, and attentively watched the water.
"They are catching salmon—look!" said Unacharo to me; "the salmon are coming up the stream from the sea." The small net was plunged into the water between the two canoes, and nearly each time a large salmon was scooped out and flung into one or other of the "dug-outs," where the woman sitting at the stern crushed its head with a large stone. If a fish escaped, yells of indignation, especially from the women folk, broke out from the boats, to be echoed by the high white cliff. Both men and women were naked, and the dexterity and speed with which they paddled their canoes down the stream, working the coarse net at the same time, seldom missing a fish, was simply marvellous. On the other hand, it must be remembered that fish were so plentiful in the river, that it was really easier to catch than to miss. In wading the Shikarubets (river) I could see large salmon passing me by the dozen, and I felt quite uncomfortable when some large fish either rubbed itself against or passed between my legs. We got across the Shorui-washi—literally "very burning a place to stand"—and having then gone far enough from the Shikarubets Otchirsh to see the whole of it, I managed to take a good sketch of it. Near this river are some hot springs, called Nishibets, from which the river has taken its peculiar name. The easiest way to the Otopke Mountain is to follow the valley between the Shikarubets and the Otopke River, and then climb the mountain on the north-east side. The latter part of the journey is extremely rough and difficult. Watanabe and I returned to Obishiro. It is not often that one anywhere meets with such simple, straightforward people as these Watanabes. They have lived alone at Obishiro for eight years among savages, but never in my life have I met with more civilised, kind, thoughtful, gentle beings than Watanabe and his wife. As civilisation makes savages bad, I dare say savage life makes civilised people good! I go away carrying with me a deep affection for these gentle strangers, whose kindness to me has made them my friends.
The day came for me to return to the coast. My ponies, probably frightened by bears, broke loose during the night, and one of them ran away; and I was rather in a difficulty as to how I should get back whence I had come. Watanabe, adding kindness to kindness, allowed me to have one of his ponies, and after repeated good-byes I started on my journey back to the coast. About four miles east of Yammakka the Tokachi River receives a large affluent, the Toshibets, or "river of high swamps." The Tunnui Puto is the largest of these swamps, about four miles north of the mouth of the Toshibets. Tunnui means a kind of tree, probably the Quercus dentata; puto or put means the mouth of a river. The course of the Toshibets River is almost from due north to south from its source, then for about six or seven miles from north-west to south-east, and, sharply turning again from north to south, continues in this direction winding continually for eighteen or twenty miles, till it throws itself with a large body of water in the Tokachi River. On the southern side of the latter part of the watercourse are found the Ainu villages of Pombets, twenty-two huts; Purokenashpa,[24] three huts; Kenashpa,[25] twelve huts; and Beppo,[26] eleven huts. The characteristics of the natives of these villages and their habitations are similar to those already described at Frishikobets. The journey down was much the same as that coming up. Tobuts, on the north side of the Tokachi, is the largest Ainu village in the district, and has as many as sixty huts. The inhabitants are possessed of a somewhat fiery temper in this particular village, and the day previous to my going through two men were killed in a row. I felt awfully annoyed at being just one day too late to see it, as then I might have described how the Ainu die. However, I reached the other side of the Tokachi again. A way through the same tall rushes and reeds had to be forced, and the same army of mosquitoes and horse-flies had to be met and endured. It was my intention to push on and reach the coast as soon as possible. At Yammakka the natives had seen my runaway pony galloping at full speed towards the coast, but no one had caught it. Probably no one had tried.
My ponies went well. I could plainly see where I had already come through the jungle, by the long trail of crushed and broken reeds I had left behind me. Everything was calm, but for the monotonous sound of crashing leaves produced by my forcing my way through the reeds. Suddenly my ponies stopped, shied, and began to back. They sniffed the ground, then the air. Their ears were straight up, their eyes were restless, and their nostrils widely distended. They were certainly under some great excitement, and showed unmistakable signs of terror. "What could be the cause of it?" I asked myself, but all the same gave the ponies a sound thrashing to make them go. It was useless—they would not stir. The second pony came by the side of mine, and they both put their heads together, in their own way consulting and concerting. They were utterly demoralised, and were kicking awfully. It was getting dark, and this riotous conduct on the part of my ponies was annoying. Unexpectedly, and with a tremendous growl, a huge black bear sprang towards us, and tried to seize the baggage pony. However, he and the beast I was riding bolted, and ran a desperate race for life; and though Bruin followed us clumsily for some time, we soon were far ahead, and lost sight of him. It was more than I could do to stop the frightened brutes; but finally, after a reckless steeplechase of many miles, after jumping over brooks and splashing across torrents, flying over the ground and through the jungle, without omitting to anathematise a horsefly that had settled on the back of my neck, and was amusing itself by boring holes in different parts of it to find a suitable spot for feeding, finally we came to a halt. It was about time. During the violent ride the reeds had cut my face and neck and hands, and I was bleeding all over. I went on and on, and, as my ponies did not seem to be very tired, I tried to reach the coast that night. It grew dark, but the night was fine, and I let the noise of the running river guide me. Each minute seemed an hour, each hour an age. I rode and rode, and still rode, till I was nearly exhausted; and still I was surrounded by the tall reeds and rushes. "Thank God!" I heartily exclaimed, when finally, at a small hour of the morning, I found myself in open ground again, and the wind brought in waves the salt smell of the sea.
An hour or so afterwards two tired ponies were easily pulled up at the tea-house at Otsu, the landlord was roused, and a wearied and half-starved traveller was let in.
I decided to stop a day at Otsu, so as to recover from the fatigue of my late travels and adventures, and I chose my quarters in the yadoya of a Japanese called Inomata Yoshitaro. I was told that he was an ex-convict. Be that as it may, he had now turned into a fisherman and innkeeper. Like all Japanese, he was an inexhaustible talker, and his politeness was so great that it became a bore.
It was about three in the morning when I reached Otsu. I had taken off my boots on entering his house—for it is an insult to enter Japanese houses with one's boots on—and I had seated myself on the soft mat in order to rest my aching limbs, when Yoshitaro made me get up to place a small square cushion under me, on which he said I should be more comfortable. I had not been on it one minute before Yoshitaro, wanting to increase my comforts, made me rise again to exchange the first cushion covered with cotton for one covered with silk—a detail to which a man is not likely to pay much attention when tired to death, and only anxious to be left alone. It followed as a matter of course that before I was allowed to go to sleep I had to sip several cups of tea, which Yoshitaro's wife had hurriedly made, and I had to relate the result of my expedition to the sleepy fishermen who had crept out of their foutangs at the news of my arrival. In spite of all this, when I had got rid of my audience I had a good night's rest; but when I woke up the next day at noon I found myself surrounded by a crowd of fishermen of Otsu, who had invaded the yadoya to have a peep at the young foreigner, while in the back yard I recognised the voices of Yoshitaro and his wife, who evidently were occupied in the exciting chase of a fowl.
A few minutes later Yoshitaro triumphantly entered the room with a large dish, on which the same fowl, uncooked, and cut into a thousand little bits, was served to me, together with pieces of raw salmon, daikon (a vegetable), and boiled rice. This he called a European dinner! I did my best to roast the chicken bits on the hibachi (the brazier); but I was never well up in the culinary art, and, as my landlord remarked, he had brought up the meat for me to eat, not to "burn."
Fowls are very scarce indeed in Hokkaido, and the few found have been imported; therefore the landlord did not fail to explain, in a roundabout manner, under what great obligation I was to him for killing such a precious bird.
I said that I had not asked him to do this, and with his perfect Japanese politeness, bowing gracefully down to the ground, he said:
"Sayo de gozarimas" ("Yes, your honourable sir"). "But," he added, "the bird was so old that if I had not killed it I fear it would have died by itself ere long." Such a sacrifice undoubtedly deserved a reward, and he assured me that we should be "quite even" if I, being an artist, would condescend to paint twelve portraits of him. I had no little trouble to make him understand that he was mistaking me for a photographic camera, but I offered to paint him a small sketch the next morning if he would leave me alone all that day.
Punctually at sunrise he entered my room. He had his best clothes on, and his anxiety to be painted was such that he had not been able to sleep all night. I painted the sketch, and Yoshitaro and his male and female friends joined in exclamations of admiration at the good result of the abura è (oil painting). He professed to be very grateful, and carefully packed the picture in a box, which he carried into another room.
I took advantage of his absence to pack up my traps, as I wished to leave for Shaubets that same morning. In a short time Yoshitaro came back to my room, but a different man. He was rude, and tried to bully me. He presented a bill for the sum of sixteen yen, equivalent to £3 in English money, which I considered exorbitant for two nights' rest, a few bowls of rice, and the "European dinner." The highest charge made by the very best tea-houses in Hokkaido never exceeds one yen—two shillings and tenpence a day—including all meals. I quietly told the landlord that he was a thief, and that I would punish him by taking the picture away from him; but he swore that he would not surrender it, and that he would fight for it if necessary.
I seldom refuse a challenge when I know that I am going to get the best of it, and as it so happened that my arms were a great deal longer than those of Yoshitaro, I caught him by the throat and shook him so violently that he was nearly strangled. His friends came to his rescue, and when I dropped him he fell heavily on the mats, and had to be carried away. Some minutes elapsed, and while I was hastily taking my heavier luggage out of the house I heard Yoshitaro in the next room call out to his wife to bring him a sword, as he wanted to kill the "ijinsan bakka"—"the fool of a foreigner." I entered his room. Yoshitaro, pale with rage, was sitting by his hibachi, and round him were eight or ten of his men. They were apparently holding a congress on what to do, and each one of them, as is usual on all occasions in Japan, had pulled out his little pipe, and was continually refilling it with tobacco as they all discussed the matter on hand. I had my boots on this time, as I wished to show the scorn I had for him, his friends, and his house. In my coat pocket—the only sound one—I had my revolver, but it was not loaded.
"Yoshitaro," I said, "deliver the picture at once."
"I will not," said he.
"Good!" said his friends in a chorus.
"Yoshitaro," I said again, producing the revolver and pointing it at him, "if I have not the picture before I count twenty you will be a dead man."
I never in my life saw a crowd of bullies so scared. Covering their faces with their hands, Yoshitaro's friends bolted in all directions, some jumping out of the semi-European window, some dashing through the violently-opened paper shojis (sliding doors), leaving eight or ten pipes and as many tobacco pouches scattered on the mats. The landlord, a moment ago so brave, had not strength to get up, so great was his terror. Pale as death, and with a trembling voice, he called imploringly to his wife, servants, and friends to come and deliver up the picture.
I had counted up to number fourteen, and no one had put in an appearance. Then I incidentally mentioned to Yoshitaro that time was nearly up, and enquired if he preferred to be shot through the head or the heart, at the same time cocking my revolver. Yoshitaro shuddered.
At number sixteen a little girl, the only brave one of the lot, was sent to his help.
"Dutchera Danna?" ("Where is it, sir?") she asked him, quite perplexed.
"Hatchera, hayaku, hayaku nesan!" ("It is there; quick, quick, girl!") pointing to a closet in which a pile of foutangs (small mattresses) were kept rolled during the day.
Yoshitaro had hidden the sketch so well in the closet that the little nesan[27] could not find it, and when I called out number nineteen the poor girl, discomfited, cried out, "Mi-imasen" ("I do not see it!")
Yoshitaro was more dead than alive; his lips were white, and he tried to articulate some words, but could not. His eyes, fixed on the closet, were glazed and set. His body was beginning to collapse, and every moment I thought that he would faint.
In the meantime the nesan hurriedly pulled out all the foutangs and unrolled them, and the box with the sketch fell out just as I was about to call out number twenty. She gave me the box and sketch, and I told Yoshitaro that he must now come out with me, and, putting my revolver in my pocket, I pulled the man to the entrance door.
Several villagers had collected at a respectful distance on the road, waiting for the report of the revolver. Yoshitaro's wife was the farthest of all.
I signed to them to come nearer, and seeing that the revolver was no longer in my hands, they came, though very reluctantly. Yoshitaro was beginning to breathe again; and when a sufficient crowd had collected, I compelled him to accuse himself before them all of being a thief, and to confess that he was glad to have been punished. Also I made him promise that he would not play such tricks again on any other traveller.
The Japanese are fond of a good joke, even when it is played off on one of themselves; and when I had seen all my baggage safe on my pack-saddles, I gave Yoshitaro the sixteen dollars he had asked me: "Two dollars," I said, "in settlement of my bill, and fourteen to go to your doctor for restoring you to good health after the fright you have had to-day."
To show how shabby Yoshitaro's nature was, it is enough to state that out of the sum received his munificence went to the extent of five sen (2½d.) as a present to the girl who had come to save his life!
When my ponies were ready, I showed Yoshitaro and his knavish friends how I had sold them. I brought out my revolver again, and they all saw that not a single cartridge was in any of its chambers. This done, I bade them good-bye, and left them to reflect that it is not always the quietest persons who can be imposed on with most impunity, but that sometimes such quiet persons get the best of it, even against ten bullies or more banded together. I have no doubt that a good many of my readers will think me cruel for carrying a joke so far; but, on the other hand, if placed in similar circumstances, when no redress from without is to be obtained, and one must defend oneself by main force, very few would treat such a serious imposition and offence as a joke.
In going through the village more than one fisherman came to tell me that I had done right in dealing severely with Yoshitaro, as he was known to be a scoundrel and a thief, and they all detested him.
There was little of interest between Otsu and Shaubets, with the exception of the beautiful delta formed in the low alluvial valley by the Otsu River and the Tokachi River, two large estuaries nearly two miles apart, by which the Tokachi River enters the sea. The Tokachi is a river of large volume and considerable length, and even when divided, the body of water carried by both outlets is so great as to make it necessary to cross in boats, fording on foot being quite impossible.
The Urahoro River was successfully crossed, but for the twenty miles on to Shahubets the track was flat and sandy, lying mostly under high clay banks, some of which form picturesque headlands. The country is not mountainous in the proximity of the coast, but it is of a moderate elevation all through, and wooded with deciduous trees. The formation of the south-east coast from Cape Erimo to Cape Noshafu is in many ways unlike that of the south-west coast. The south-western part is more mountainous, and is further characterised by the absence of extensive plains. The coast-line is indented, and there is a striking want of broad beaches. Precipitous rocks are also frequent along the south-west coast, and thick deposits of pumice—as we have seen—are lying over quaternary rocks, filling up the declivities of mountain lands and river shores.
In the western part the tertiaries are more tufaceous than on the south-east coast, and they are distinguished mainly by the presence of shales and andesite breccia. The south-eastern part is characterized by the almost entire absence of volcanic rocks and older eruptive rocks. After leaving the range of mountains forming the Sparti acque, east and west of Cape Erimo, high land is met all the way along the south-east coast. Nevertheless, pumice is found in the basin of the Tokachi River, and also in that of the Kushiro River, but it does not form the surface soil, covering large areas of ground, as in many places on the south-western portion of the coast.
The different aspect in the tertiaries of the south-east and south-west coast may be accounted for by the presence of breccia and conglomerate, shales and sandstones, on the western part, while on the eastern coast beds of lignite, coal of inferior quality, and diatom earth form the tertiary strata. If it were not for the total want of harbours, or even moderately sheltered anchorages for ships, this south-west portion of Yezo, with its agricultural resources, its milder climate, and the facilities that it offers for the construction of roads and railways, ought to support a large population. As things stand now, there are no colonists inland, and the coast is deserted and desolate-looking. As I have mentioned before, the only drawbacks are the thick fogs prevailing during the summer months along the south-east coast, and I believe that this in some measure accounts for the Japanese not wishing to settle in a part of the country so depressing to their spirits and so trying to their nerves. I have often noticed how easily affected the Mikado's subjects are by atmospheric and geographical conditions, and how, before settling to do business, they make a point of finding some pleasant spot where to cast anchor, thinking more of the amenities of physical existence than of the facilities for successful trade. I did not see a single house for twenty miles until I reached Shaubets, a village of eleven Ainu huts and one Japanese house. Thousands of sea-gulls and penguins lined the sandy shore, and I saw several large black sea-eagles. A pretty waterfall, gently descending from the high grey cliff, was decidedly ornamental to the scenery and useful to the wayfarer, as it afforded my ponies and myself a good drink of deliciously fresh water. Far off in the distance I could distinguish a long tongue of land. At Shaubets I was told that it was the peninsula on which Kossuri, or Kushiro, as the Japanese call it, is situated. I left Shaubets early in the morning, with the intention of pushing on to Kushiro, thirty-one miles distant. At Shiranuka, only ten miles from Shaubets, I changed my ponies. Shiranuka is an Ainu village, the inhabitants of which employ themselves in collecting and drying seaweed. There are also seven or eight Japanese shanties besides the Ainu huts. At the mouth of the Tcharo-bets, near the latter village, coal and lignite of inferior quality are found; but this coalfield was not worked at the time I passed through Shiranuka. The remaining twenty-one miles were monotonous and uninteresting. The long Kossuri peninsula was before me, increasing in size as I drew nearer; and after having gone through the two small villages of To'tori and Akan-gawa, in the neighbourhood of Kossuri, I crossed the Kutcharo River, on a nicely-built wooden bridge, and found myself at Kushiro, an important Japanese settlement on the south-east coast. From its favourable situation Kushiro is likely to become one of the chief towns in Yezo, though unfortunately it does not possess a good harbour, and is much exposed to westerly winds. The largest number of the houses are situated on a slight elevation above the reef-harbour, immediately south of the river mouth. In the proximity of Kushiro, and just beyond the range of hills which stretches for about three miles from the entrance of the harbour in a northerly, and for about two miles in an easterly direction, is a lagoon, called by the Ainu "Harutori." This lagoon is nearly two miles long, and certainly not more than a quarter of a mile wide. It is divided from the sea by a very narrow strip of sand, through which the water of the lagoon finds its outlet. On the east side of the Harutori coal has been discovered, and it seems to be of fairly good quality; and three miles further, quite close to the sea-coast, coal was dug out some years ago, but the quality was so inferior that the works had to be abandoned.
There is a considerable area of good land in the neighbourhood of Kushiro, and here again it is to be regretted that Japanese farmers do not emigrate to work it. Yezo has a very small population for its size, and I was surprised that emigration from the mainland was not carried out on a larger scale. Yezo is a rich country in many ways. Why do not all the troublesome students, the fiery soshi of Japan, abandon politics and futile rows and go and do men's work in that northern region of the empire? They would profit by it, and so would their country. An immense loss occurs every year simply because no one is there to take the profit; and it is a great pity, and almost a shame, to see so much waste and neglect in a region which, after all, is not difficult of access from the main island of Nippon. To the mineral products of the Kushiro district must be added the exports of fish (salmon and herrings), fish manure, and seaweed, which could be greatly increased if more practical processes were used.
The town of Kushiro itself is not picturesque. There are, I dare say, as many as five hundred houses, some built in Japanese, some in semi-foreign style. The streets are very wide, and along the main street rails have been laid to carry coal trucks from the Harutori mine down to the shipping point. Thus the town has a civilised appearance, which was artistically ugly enough, but refreshing to my eyes after my experiences along the south-west and south-east coasts. There are Ainu huts along the river banks, on the high lands, and on the strip of sand between Lake Harutori and the sea. Unfortunately, most of the Ainu here, being in the employ of the Japanese, have adopted Japanese clothes, customs, manners, and language. Nearly all the younger folks are half-castes. A select few have even gone so far as to forget their strongest national characteristic of dirt; and, to my great amazement, one day I saw an Ainu half-caste actually taking a hot bath. It may amuse the reader to learn of what this Japanese bathing accommodation generally consists. It is one of the features in nearly all fishing stations in Yezo, and it is worth describing.
When the day's work is over, one or more of the iron fish-kettles or caldrons used for extracting the oil from herrings are filled with water. These caldrons rest each on a cylindrical base of stones and clay, thus allowing a big fire of wood to be lighted under them. When the water has reached a high temperature, the bather either provides himself with an old pair of straw sandals (waraji), and steps in, or, placing a small board on the water, places his foot on it, and forces it down to the bottom of the caldron by his own weight. He thus avoids scalding his feet, which otherwise he would do severely. I have often seen two or three men (Japanese) placidly sitting up to their necks in the steaming water of the same caldron, with a huge fire burning under it; and several times I have been warmly invited by the bathers to join them, which very warm invitation, however, I invariably coolly considered and declined with thanks.
As regards the Ainu, they are not fond of bathing or washing, and they share the Chinese idea that it is only dirty people who need continual washing. They do not regard themselves as dirty, and therefore dispense with such an "uncleanly habit."
"You white people must be very dirty," once said an Ainu to me, as I was taking a plunge into a limpid river, "as you tell me that you bathe in the river every day."
"And what about yourself?" I asked him.
"Oh, Nishpa," he replied with an air of contempt, "I am very clean, and have never needed washing!"
If Kushiro is not interesting to an artist, it is decidedly so from an archæological point of view. Numerous pits, forts, and camps, flint implements, and fragments of pottery, are found in the immediate neighbourhood of the town, both on the range of hills and along the west shore of Lake Harutori. The pits are found in such numbers as to lead one to believe that the old "Kossuri" of the Ainu was once the capital of a race of pit-dwellers previous to the conquest of the whole of Yezo by the hairy race. The Ainu gave these people the name of Koro-pok-kuru—men of the holes. A few words on them may not be out of place, though, unfortunately, little is to be learned from the Ainu as to who their predecessors were, and it is merely by a close examination of their pits, and relics found in different parts of Yezo and the Kuriles, that we can to a certain extent trace the existence of such a race of people, and also prove that they were in no way connected with the present Ainu.
All over Yezo and the Kurile Islands remains of an extinct race of pit-dwellers are to be seen. It is especially near lakes and swamps or along the coast that rectangular, circular, and elliptical pits are numerous, but square pits are not so common. None of these pits have yet been discovered on the main island of Nippon, but many are still to be found as far south as Hakodate, in Yezo. On the east and north-east side of the peak, at the latter port, these pits, flint implements, and rude pottery, mostly in fragments, are met with in great abundance. The implements consist mostly of arrow-heads, stone adzes, FLINT ARROW-HEADS FLINT ARROW-HEADS. hammers, flint knives, and round pebbles, which were used as war ammunition. The arrow-heads vary in size, length, and breadth. The larger ones I saw measured an inch and three-quarters in length by an inch and five-eighths in breadth, while the smaller were seven-eighths of an inch by half an inch. They were triangular, with the angle at the point sometimes more, sometimes less acute, or lozenge-shaped; they are chipped, and not ground. Most of the arrow-heads and a good many of the knives were made of a dark reddish siliceous rock. The adzes also, of course, varied in size and shape, some being oblong in section, others almost rectangular, while others again were oval. They were ground, and always made so that the hand could have a good grip on them. The average length from the sharp edge to the other end would be about four inches, and the sides were rounded. It is apparent that most of these adzes were not originally fastened to a stick or club, but were held in the hand. They usually have a smooth surface, while the knives, as well as the arrow-points, exhibit marks of chipping quite plainly; their edges are very sharp. Hard stones are often found on which the people of the Stone Age used to grind their implements. The knives are mostly rectangular, with very sharp edges, sometimes on both sides. Then there are some in the shape of a sword-blade, rounded at the top, and with a rounded place at the other end, where they were held. Those with two sharp edges were triangular in shape, and were held by the upper part of the triangle, which point ends with a kind of knob. FLINT KNIVES FLINT KNIVES. It is a curious fact that bone and bamboo arrow-points—probably Ainu—are sometimes found in pits, and this would lead me to believe, either that the conquering Ainu used these weapons in their attacks upon the pit-dwellers, or, supposing for a moment that the Ainu themselves were the pit-dwellers in former days, that they had abandoned their stone implements and had adopted bone and wood, which they found easier to work. I am inclined to the first supposition as the correct one. The pits are numerous in Yezo, and, following the southern coast from south-west to north-east, we find that they increase in number towards the north. Though stone implements and fragments of pottery are numerous nearly all along the southern coast, but few pits are found either on Volcano Bay or on the south-west part of the coast as far as Erimo Cape. As we pass this cape and go north, on the south-east coast the pits become more numerous, and at Kushiro—or Kossuri, as the Ainu call it—they are found in great quantities. Further on are some at Akkeshi, and they are plentiful nearly all along that stretch of the coast as far as Nemuro, and on Bentenjima, the small island which forms one side of the harbour at that place. North-east of that, in the Kuriles, at Kunashiri and Etorofu, we have abundant evidence that a large population of these pit-dwellers once existed there. In Etorofu particularly the pits, besides being frequent, are in much better preservation than any on the island of Yezo.
The pit-dwellers do not seem to have been particular as to the shape of their dwellings, though they evidently had a certain predilection for the elliptical and rectangular forms. The pits at Kushiro are nearly all rectangular, while those from Akkeshi to Nemuro are either rectangular or circular.
The average dimensions of rectangular pits are about twelve feet by nine feet, but I have seen some as large as sixteen feet by twelve feet. The sides slope inwards, and the average depth is from three to six feet. Pits which are situated on cliffs, or at any height, are generally deeper, probably for the extra shelter required by those living at an altitude, compared with those living on the sea-level. The round pits are from ten to fourteen feet in diameter, and the elliptical have a length of about sixteen feet, and are about eight feet at the widest part of the ellipse. The pits which I found on the north-east coast of Yezo, from Shari to Cape Soya, were not so numerous as those on the southern coast; but some of them were larger in size, as probably, owing to the greater severity of the climate, more people lived in the same hut for the purpose of creating natural heat. At Tobuts, on the Saruma Lake, are three of elliptical shape. Near Abashiri several well-preserved specimens of pottery have been found, especially in the mud of swamps or lakes; but after leaving Lake Saruma, I did not see any traces of the pit-dwellers till I approached Soya Cape. When these pits are excavated, a stratum of sand is generally found, and beneath it a large quantity of charcoal in the centre of the pit. Under the charcoal the earth is burnt, showing that the hearth was in the centre of the dwelling, as it is now in the Ainu huts. This goes to prove that there was one fire, and not, as some travellers have endeavoured to show, five or six burning at the same time, round which, or, rather, between which, the pit-dwellers slept. I have often dug in different parts of pits, and have invariably come upon this burnt charcoal in or near the middle. I never saw any signs of more than one fire in the same pit. Digging in a large pit at Kushiro, I found some stag-horns, and numerous bits of black and red pottery. Some of the fragments had rough line ornamentations on them. There was also a large quantity of war ammunition, in the shape of big pebbles and round stones. Most pits contain heaps of rubbish and bones of animals. Sometimes there are heaps of oyster shells, as near the pits on Saruma Lake; and these shell-heaps are similar to those found on the main island of Nippon. In another pit on one of the forts at Kushiro I found what I thought was part of a human skull; but on a closer examination it turned out to be the skull of an animal—probably a fox or a stag. A bone arrow-point also came to light in the same pit, and several stone defensive weapons. It was interesting to note that this pit was built on the top of a small conical hill, and that the hill itself was surrounded by a ditch only a few feet wide, thus forming a kind of fort. On the side and at the bottom of the fort I saw numbers of stones, which had in all probability been used by the pit-dwellers as missiles against the attacking Ainu during a battle. Besides forts, the pit-dwellers had camps, generally situated in a commanding position above a river, a lake, or a harbour. Single pits also are found only under similar conditions.
Near Kushiro, on the Lake Harutori, which is divided from the sea by a sand isthmus, are several camps and one or two forts, the first of which overlooks the sea. Along the Kutcharo River are forts and camps. These camps are on the crowns of the hills, and each is surrounded by a small ditch. In the last, about three miles from the coast, were several square pits, larger than those on the other three forts. This last fort stands some distance back from the river, and is situated in a little plain at the summit of a detached mound, which has the appearance of having been artificially cut from the larger remaining portion of the hill itself. The shape of the fort is a broken cone, and the base measures about nine hundred feet in circumference, while the upper one is about three hundred. From the top, where there is only a small pit, the entrance of the river can easily be watched; and it must have been almost impregnable, as the walls of the fort, or, rather, the sides of the conical hill, rise nearly perpendicularly from the plain. A small stream runs at the foot of the fort.
On the Lake Harutori the range of hills which stretches from the sea for three or four miles along its eastern shores is literally covered with these pits, and on the sandy isthmus separating the sea from the lake some very large pits can be observed. The fort near the sea is called Shirito by the Ainu, and that at the other end of the range goes by the name of Moshiriya. It was in the latter fort that the well-shaped bone arrow-point was found, as well as one or two stone adzes, which were so shaped as to fit the hand, and evidently had been used as hammers, or weapons of offence at close quarters. In the same fort I found two stags' horns in good preservation, and many bones of different animals. It is doubtful whether these heaps of horns and bones were brought into the pits for the purpose of making arrow-points and other weapons, or whether the stags had been used merely for food. The bone arrow-point found in the same pit was not in such a decayed condition as most of the bones I found there, which led me to believe that it was not made out of the same kind of bone, or that the bone out of which it was made had been cured before its conversion into an arrow-point. I believe that in the neighbourhood of Kusuri—or Kushiro, as it is now called by the Japanese—there are as many as a thousand or fifteen hundred pits. In Etorofu, at Bet-to-bu, on the north-west coast of the island, nearly as many are to be found along the seashore, mostly on the plain at the top of the cliffs overlooking the sea, while the rest are situated on the banks of a narrow stream and along what appears to have been a river course. On the same island, at Ru-pets, are several pits of a similar description, and a fort.
As the pit-dwellers have disappeared from Yezo and the Kuriles, and only pre-historic remains and relics have been left behind to indicate their former existence, the questions naturally arise: Who were these pit-dwellers? Whence did they come? and whither have they gone? We can place no reliance on the accounts given by the Ainu or by the highly imaginative Japanese, who, moreover, are perfectly ignorant on this subject. Some Ainu say that Yezo was formerly peopled by a race of dwarfs, who were their enemies, and were extirpated by them after many sanguinary battles. The Ainu are very vague as to when and where these battles were fought, but according to their accounts these pit-dwellers, whom they call the Koro-pok-kuru—literally "men of holes"—once inhabited Yezo and the Kuriles. They were only three or four feet in height, and some semi-Ainu stories represent them as being only a few inches tall. This of course might be taken to mean that they were very small by comparison. A few Ainu, yet more imaginative than others, go so far as to say gravely that the Koro-pok-kuru were so tiny that when a shower of rain came they hid under burdock leaves for shelter. Others, however, tell us that these Koro-pok-kuru were their ancestors, and much more hairy than the Ainu of the present day. They were strong, fond of hunting, and able to cross the mountains with great facility and speed. According to Mr. Batchelor, some Ainu state that they themselves formerly lived in huts over pits, and that they changed their method of house-building on coming in contact with the Japanese; but if this were the case it seems unaccountable that they should distinguish their predecessors as pit-dwellers. Moreover, if the influence of the Japanese was sufficiently strong to cause them to make this most important change in their habitations and mode of living, how comes it that in other matters they have not adopted Japanese customs? I was unable to trace the slightest resemblance between Ainu huts and Japanese edifices of any kind, either in their general appearance or in any of the smaller details, and I was always struck by the small extent to which the Ainu have adopted the customs of the dominant race. Indeed, the character of Ainu buildings is peculiar to the Ainu themselves, and, far from constructing their dwellings over pits, they go to the other extreme, and perch their storehouses on piles or posts. It is a remarkable coincidence that on the Lake Kutcharo, not many miles from Kusuri, where the Koro-pok-kuru pits are numerous, the roofs of the Ainu huts and storehouses are not angular, but circular, which gives them the appearance of half a cylinder resting on the ground. This struck me as being in all probability the shape of structures built over rectangular pits, while the coverings of round pits must have been shaped like half a sphere, similar to the snow houses of the Esquimaux, and the elliptical like the longer half of an egg.
The present houses of the Kutcharo Lake Ainu, however, are not built on pits; and on my questioning the few inhabitants of the village, all were perfectly ignorant of the existence of the Koro-pok-kuru, and they knew nothing of their own ancestors, nor whether they had built structures over pits or not. The idea seemed to them highly ludicrous, and afforded them a great deal of amusement.
On the north-east coast of Yezo, where pits are found, some Ainu huts have round and others angular roofs; but even in the latter instance, the angle of the two sides of the roof is not as acute as with the huts on the Saru and the Tokachi River; but both slant in a more gentle way, forming an obtuse angle of about 135°. In fact, these variations in the Ainu architecture have not yet been accounted for, and whether they copied their roofs from their foes the Koro-pok-kuru, or whether it is a mere chance that the roofs bear a certain resemblance, cannot be discovered from tradition or hearsay. I may mention incidentally my own theory, which may afford an explanation of this point. As the Saru, the Tokachi, and the Ishikari districts have no very severe weather in winter, and only a comparatively small quantity of snow falls during the colder months, the Ainu build huts with very slanting roofs, so that the snow should not remain on them in winter, while during the summer months the rain should fall off the steep incline of the roof before it could filter through into the hut. On the Kutcharo Lake and on the north-east coast, where strong winds are prevalent, the huts have round roofs, so as to offer the least possible resistance to the gales, and thus escape the danger of being blown down.
With regard to the snow, the opposite of the Saru Ainu method is practised. Instead of preventing the snow from resting on their roofs, the Ainu of the colder regions do all they can to let it remain, for by thus forming an air-tight vault it renders the hut much warmer in winter. In other words, the system is the same as that adopted by the Esquimaux, with the exception that the latter, I believe, have no frame to their huts, and the vault is entirely of snow and ice; while with the Ainu of the north-east coast the snow vault is directly over the hut itself. I invariably noticed on the north-east coast, where the Ainu have a mixed architecture, that wherever a hut was built in an exposed position it had a round roof, while those built under the shelter of a cliff or a hill had angular ones, and this is what led me to the above conclusion.
To return to the Koro-pok-kuru, they undoubtedly must have had semi-spherical and semi-cylindrical roofs over their pits, whether the vault was constructed of mud, sticks, and reeds, or simply of snow and ice, like the Esquimaux dwellings. For all that we know, the Koro-pok-kuru huts may have had conical roofs, like those of the present American Indians; but one fact is certain, that whatever shape the roof may have had, it was not supported by a central pole, for the hearth is invariably in the centre of the pit.
The curious fact already mentioned, that in every pit we find a thick layer of sand, seems to prove that it was certainly intended to render the ground less damp; and it is my own impression that these pit-dwellers, having snow or ice vaults over their heads, resorted to that expedient to keep the floor of their huts dry under the continuous dripping of the vault, melted by the heat of the fire inside. Undoubtedly Yezo was a much colder country in bygone years than it is now; and though we cannot implicitly rely on the information given by the Ainu, they are all of one opinion in believing that their country was all ice and snow in former days, and to give a proof of it they say: "Why should we be as hairy as a bear if not to keep the cold out?"
The Japanese know the pit-dwellers by the name of "Ko-bito," or "Ko-shto," the latter word meaning "men of the lakes,"[28] but they know nothing of their history.
One fact still remains to be explained, namely, who made the pottery that is disinterred in almost every pit and by the shores of lakes. The present Ainu do not know how to make pottery, and they have never been known to manufacture anything of the kind. All Ainu implements are made of wood, though of course the more civilised tribes have now purchased iron or porcelain implements from the Japanese. The question, then, is, supposing that the Ainu were formerly the pit-dwellers, have they lost the art of making pottery, or did the pottery belong to a different race of people?