The Captivity Of Captain Golownin

Japan was persistent in its policy of isolation. To its people their

group of islands was the world, and they knew little of and cared less

for what was going on in all the continents outside. The Dutch vessel

that visited their shores once a year served as an annual newspaper, and

satisfied their curiosity as to the doings of mankind. The goods it

brought were little cared for, Japan being sufficient unto itself, so

t at it served merely as a window to the world. Once a year a delegation

from the Dutch settlement visited the capital, but the visitors

travelled almost like prisoners, and were forced to crawl in to the

mikado on their hands and knees and to back out again in the same

crab-like fashion. Some of these envoys wrote accounts of what they had

seen, and that was all that was known of Japan for two centuries.



This state of affairs could not continue. With the opening of the

nineteenth century the ships of Europe began to make their way in large

numbers to the North Pacific, and efforts were made to force open the

locked gates of Japan. Some sought for food and water. These could be

had at Nagasaki, but nowhere else, and were given with a warning to move

on. In some cases shipwrecked Japanese were brought back in foreign

vessels, but according to law such persons were looked upon as no longer

Japanese, and no welcome was given to those who brought them. In other

cases wrecked whalers and other mariners sought safety on Japanese soil,

but they were held strict prisoners, and rescued only with great

difficulty. The law was that foreigners landing anywhere on the coast,

except at Nagasaki, should be seized and condemned to perpetual

imprisonment, and that those landing at Nagasaki must strictly abstain

from Christian worship.



Meanwhile the Russians had become, through their Siberian ports, near

neighbors of Japan, and sought to open trade with that country. In 1793

Lieutenant Laxman landed at Hakodate and travelled overland to Matsumai,

bringing with him some shipwrecked Japanese and seeking for commercial

relations with Japan. He was treated with courtesy, but dismissed

without an answer to his demand, and told that he could take his

Japanese back with him or leave them as he pleased.



In 1804 the Russians came again, this time to Nagasaki. This vessel also

brought back some shipwrecked Japanese, and had on board a Russian

count, sent as ambassador from the czar. But the shogun refused to

receive the ambassador or to accept his presents, and sent him word that

Japan had little need of foreign productions, and got all it wanted from

the Dutch and Chinese. All this was said with great politeness, but the

ambassador thought that he had been shabbily treated, and went away

angry, reproaching the Dutch for his failure. His anger against the

Japanese was shown in a hostile fashion. In 1805 he sent out two small

vessels, whose crews landed on the island of Saghalien, plundered a

Japanese settlement there, carried off some prisoners, and left behind a

written statement that this had been done to revenge the slights put

upon the Russian ambassador.



This violence was amply repaid by the Japanese. How they did so we have

now to tell. In 1811 Captain Golownin, an intelligent and educated

officer of the Russian navy, was sent in command of the sloop-of-war

Diana to explore the Kurile Islands. These belonged to Japan, and were

partly settled. At the south end of Kunashir, one of these islands, was

a Japanese settlement, with a garrison. Here Golownin, having landed

with two officers, four men, and an interpreter, was invited into the

fort. He entered unsuspectingly, but suddenly found himself detained as

a prisoner, and held as such despite all the efforts of the Diana to

obtain his release.



The prisoners were at once bound with small cords in a most painful way,

their elbows being drawn behind their backs until they almost touched,

and their hands firmly tied together, the cords being also brought in

loops around their breasts and necks. A long cord proceeded from these

fastenings and was held by a Japanese, who, if an attempt were made to

escape, had only to pull it to bring the elbows together with great pain

and to tighten the loop around the neck so as nearly to strangle the

prisoner. Their ankles and knees were also firmly bound.



In this condition they were conveyed to Hakodate, in the island of

Yeso, a distance of six or seven hundred miles, being carried, on the

land part of the route, in a sort of palanquin made of planks, unless

they preferred to walk, in which case the cords were loosened about

their legs. At night they were trussed up more closely still, and the

ends of their ropes tied to iron hooks in the wall. The cords were drawn

so tight as in time to cut into the flesh, yet for six or seven days

their guards refused to loosen them, despite their piteous appeals,

being fearful that their prisoners might commit suicide, this being the

favorite Japanese method in extremity.



The escort consisted of nearly two hundred men. Two Japanese guides,

changed at each new district, led the way, carrying handsomely carved

staves. Three soldiers followed. Then came Captain Golownin, with a

soldier on one side, and on the other an attendant with a twig to drive

off the gnats, from whose troublesome attacks he was unable to defend

himself. Next came an officer holding the end of the rope that bound

him, followed by a party carrying his litter or palanquin. Each of the

prisoners was escorted in the same manner. In the rear came three

soldiers, and a number of servants carrying provisions and baggage.



Aside from their bonds, the captives were well treated, being supplied

with three meals a day, consisting of rice gruel, soup made of radishes

or other roots, a kind of macaroni, and a piece of fish. Mushrooms or

hard-boiled eggs were sometimes supplied.



Golownin's bitter complaints at length had the effect of a loosening of

their bonds, which enabled them to get along more comfortably. Their

guards took great care of their health, making frequent halts to rest,

and carrying them across all the streams, so that they should not wet

their feet. In case of rain they furnished them with Japanese quilted

gowns for protection. In all the villages the inhabitants viewed them

with great curiosity, and at Hakodate the street was crowded with

spectators, some with silk dresses and mounted on richly caparisoned

horses. None of the people showed any sign of malice or any disposition

to insult the prisoners, while in their journey they were cheered by

many displays of sympathy and piety.



At Hakodate they were imprisoned in a long, barn-like building, divided

into apartments hardly six feet square, each formed of thick spars and

resembling a cage. Outside were a high fence and an earthen wall. Here

their food was much worse than that on the journey. While here they were

several times examined, being conducted through the streets to a

castle-like building, where they were brought into the presence of the

governor and several other officials, who put to them a great variety of

questions, some of them of the most trivial character. A letter was also

brought them, which had been sent on shore from the Diana along with

their baggage, and which said that the ship would return to Siberia for

reinforcements, and then would never leave Japan till the prisoners were

released.



Some time afterwards the captives were removed to Matsumai, being

supplied with horses on the journey, but still to some extent fettered

with ropes. Here they were received by a greater crowd than before,

Matsumai being a more important town than Hakodate. Their prison was

similar to the preceding one, but their food was much better, and after

a time they were released from their cage-like cells and permitted to

dwell together in a large room. They were, as before, frequently

examined, their captors being so inquisitive and asking such trifling

and absurd questions that at times they grew so annoyed as to refuse to

answer. But no display of passion affected the politeness of the

Japanese, whose coolness and courtesy seemed unlimited.



Thus the first winter of their captivity was passed. In the spring they

were given more liberty, being allowed to take walks in the vicinity of

the town. Soon after they were removed from their prison to a dwelling

of three apartments, though they were still closely watched.



This strict confinement, of which they could see no end, at length

became so irksome that the prisoners determined to escape. Their walks

had made them familiar with the character of the surrounding country,

and enabled them also to gain possession of a few tools, with which they

managed to make a tunnel to the outer air. Leaving their cells at night,

they succeeded in reaching the mountains back of the town, whence they

hoped to find some means of escaping by sea.



But in the flight Golownin had hurt his leg severely, the pain being so

great that he was scarcely able to walk. This prevented the fugitives

from getting far from the town, while their wanderings through the

mountains were attended with many difficulties and dangers. After a week

thus spent, they were forced to seek the coast, where they were seen and

recaptured.



The captives were now confined in the common jail of the town, though

they were not treated any more harshly than before, and no ill will was

shown them by the officials. Even the soldier who was most blamed for

their escape treated them with his former kindness. They were soon sent

back to their old prison, where they passed a second winter, receiving

while there visits from a Japanese astronomer and others in search of

information. One old officer, who was very civil to them, at one time

brought them portraits of three richly dressed Japanese ladies, telling

them to keep them, as they might enjoy looking at them when time hung

heavy on their hands.



Meanwhile their countrymen were making earnest efforts to obtain their

release. Some months after their capture the Diana, now under Captain

Rikord, returned to Kunashir, bringing one of the Japanese who had been

taken prisoner in the descent on Saghalien. The other had died. Six

other Japanese, who had been lately shipwrecked, were brought, in the

hope of exchanging these seven for the seven prisoners. Efforts were

made to communicate with the Japanese, but they refused to receive the

Russian message, and sent back word that the prisoners were all dead.

Two of the Japanese sent ashore failed to return.



Rikord, weary of the delay and discourtesy shown, now resolved to take

more vigorous action, and seized upon a large Japanese ship that

entered the bay, taking prisoner the captain, who seemed to be a person

of distinction, and who told them that six of the Russians were in the

town of Matsumai. Not fully crediting this, Rikord resolved to carry his

captive to Kamchatka, hoping to obtain from him some useful information

concerning the purposes of the Japanese government. At Rikord's request

the merchant wrote a letter to the commander of the fort at Kunashir,

telling him what was proposed. No answer was returned, and when the

boats tried to land for water they were fired upon. The guns were also

turned upon the Diana whenever she approached the shore, but with such

wretched aim that the Russians only laughed at it.



In the following summer the Diana returned to Kunashir, bringing Kachi,

the merchant, who had been seriously ill from homesickness, and two of

his attendants, the others having died. The two attendants were sent on

shore, Kachi bidding them to tell that he had been very well treated,

and that the ship had made an early return on account of his health. On

the next day Rikord unconditionally set free his captive, trusting to

his honor for his doing all he could to procure the release of the

prisoners.



Kachi kept his word, and soon was able to obtain a letter in the

handwriting of Golownin, stating that he and his companions were all

alive and well at Matsumai. Afterwards one of the Russian sailors was

brought to Kunashir and sent on board the Diana, with the understanding

that he would return to the fort every night. Despite the watchfulness

of the Japanese, he succeeded in bringing a letter from Golownin, which

he had sewed into his jacket. This advised Rikord to be prudent, civil,

and patient, and not to send him any letters or papers which would cause

him to be tormented with questions or translations. In truth, he had

been fairly tortured by the refinements of Japanese curiosity. Finally

an ultimatum was obtained from the Japanese, who refused to deliver up

their prisoners until they received from the authorities at Okhotsk a

formal written statement that they had not ordered the hostile

proceedings at Saghalien. The Diana returned for this, and in October

made her appearance at Hakodate, bearing the letter required and another

from the governor of Irkutsk.



The ship had no sooner entered the harbor than it was surrounded by a

multitude of boats, of all kinds and sizes, filled with the curious of

both sexes, many of whom had never before set eyes on a European vessel.

They were in such numbers that the watch-boats, filled with soldiers,

had great ado to keep them back.



Kachi came on board the next morning, and was given the letter from the

governor of Okhotsk. The other Rikord would not deliver except in

person, and after much delay an interview with the governor was

arranged, at which Rikord was received with much state and ceremony. The

letter of the governor of Irkutsk was now formally delivered, in a box

covered with purple cloth, its reception being followed by an

entertainment composed of tea and sweetmeats.



Meanwhile Golownin and his companions, from the time the Diana set out

for Okhotsk, had been treated rather as guests than as prisoners. They

were now brought to Hakodate and delivered to Rikord, after an

imprisonment of more than two years. With them was sent a paper

reiterating the Japanese policy of isolation, and declaring that any

ships that should thereafter present themselves would be received with

cannon-balls instead of compliments.



In all this business Kachi had worked with tireless energy. At first he

was received with reserve as having come from a foreign country. He was

placed under guard, and for a long time was not permitted to see

Golownin, but by dint of persistence had done much in favor of the

release of the prisoners.



His abduction had thrown his family into the greatest distress, and his

wife had made a pilgrimage through all Japan, as a sort of penitential

offering to the favoring gods. During his absence his business had

prospered, and before the departure of the Diana he presented the crew

with dresses of silk and cotton wadding, the best to his favorites, the

cook being especially remembered. He then begged permission to treat the

crew.



"Sailors are all alike," he said, "whether Russian or Japanese. They are

all fond of a glass; and there is no danger in the harbor of Hakodate."



So that night the crew of the Diana enjoyed a genuine sailors' holiday,

with a plentiful supply of saki and Japanese tobacco.