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.