Along the Lagoons of the North-east Coast--From Shari Mombets to
Poronai.
I proceeded north. The Ainu scattered here and there on the coast seemed
to be hairier and uglier than any of their inland brethren. Two or three
women had already put on their winter fur garments, as the cold weather
had begun; and they looked extremely picturesque in them. Most of the
huts were uninhabited, and had been abandoned by their owners. The sky
was whitish and cold, and here and there along the beach some huge bones
of whales had been washed on shore by the tide. Some distance off an
outcast horse was attacked by thousands of famished crows. It is not an
uncommon occurrence in Yezo. The black scavengers generally attack very
young animals, and, flying on the pony's head, peck out its eyes. The
pony, frightened, and driven mad by pain, bolts, and in his blind and
reckless race either falls down a precipice and is killed outright, or
else is driven to the coast by these daring wretches, which continue to
peck at him with cruel and ceaseless avidity. There, with its way barred
by the waves, tortured to death, and neighing desperately, the helpless
beast succumbs, and affords the hungry birds a good meal, while hundreds
gathered thick on the body, peck the poor brute to death. Thousands of
others sit screaming in long rows round the scene of the fight,
attentively watching for the final result, when they too can join in,
and experience the joys of sated hunger. Nature can indeed be cruel.
I stopped at a hut. My host was decidedly peculiar. For convenience we
shall call him Omangus, which only means a "gone man," or a lunatic. I
had heard of him further south, and I was anxious to make his
acquaintance. I had not been five minutes in his hut before I perceived
that he really was a lunatic. His head was of an abnormally large size;
his skull was well developed at the back, with those prominent bumps
behind the ears which show great love of eating. His forehead was high,
and very slanting; the upper part was wider than near the eyebrows,
which were so thick and bushy as nearly to cover the eyes. His nose,
with its large nostrils, was stumpy and covered with hair, while his
enormous projecting eyes were restless and fierce. His luxuriant
moustache and beard matched the thick crop of long black hair which
covered his whole body. His legs were short, wiry, with stiff and
swollen joints, probably owing to rheumatism. His arms were very long,
and his toes were also abnormally long. Altogether he had the appearance
of a large orang-outang more than that of a human being. All his
movements resembled those of a wild beast, and now and then, when
pleased or dissatisfied, he would groan in a way not dissimilar to the
growling of a bear. In fact, he was labouring under the belief that he
was a wild beast of some sort, and apparently he regarded himself as a
"bruin." I never heard him speak or utter words, but whether he was
actually dumb or not I was not able to ascertain, as every time I tried
to examine his mouth he attempted to bite me. His biting, however, was
of a different nature from that of the sweet girl on the Saruma shores,
and when he did bite he bit well. One day in a struggle I came off
nearly minus two joints of the third finger of my right hand.
I several times attempted to take measurements of his skull and bones,
but with no success. Once, as I had got hold of him and was feeling the
"bumps" on his skull, he managed to disentangle himself, and grabbed me
by the hair, which led to a conflict, and caused me a "très mauvais
quart d'heure." We fought desperately, and I was thoroughly "licked";
not, however, before having found out that he had no bump of
sensitiveness and none of philoprogenitiveness. He was pleased with his
victory, and the hostilities ended. He hopped away cautiously, and I saw
him climb on his hands and feet over the cliff near his hut, where he
disappeared.
Some hours later I saw the monomaniac stealthily creeping back among the
rocks. I was some way from the hut, in a place where he could not see
me. He came slowly forward, watching the hut suspiciously, as he
evidently thought I was still inside. When he got near he stopped to
pick up a large stone, and with it in his right hand he sneaked along
towards the hut. He listened, and crept in. I followed immediately
after. He was furious when I entered, and tried to escape, but I barred
his way. He retreated into a corner, crouched down groaning, and showed
signs of impatience. I could see that he was frightened, and I went to
him and endeavoured to soothe him; not without success, for he became
quieter, and I once more noticed the great power that a stronger will
can exercise over a weaker one. As long as I was staring at him he never
dared to move, and I could "will" him to do almost anything I wanted by
thinking hard that he should do it; but when once I turned my eyes away
I had no more control over him.
This is just what happened that day. Thinking that he would keep quiet
for some minutes, I got out my palette and brushes in order to take his
likeness. I had till then relied on my power of "willing" people, when
my host, seizing the opportunity of my turning my head away for one
moment, grabbed the stone which he had picked up, and threw it with
great force at me. I was hit in the ribs, and was hurt sufficiently to
lose my temper. I went for him, and gave him a sound thrashing, which
sometimes has more effect than all the "willing" in the world. He became
docile after that, and I took him outside and forced him to squat down.
[Illustration: MY HOST, THE MADMAN.]
He was restless while I was painting him, and hundreds of half-starved
crows, which seemed to be on good terms with my sitter, gathered round
him, chatting in their incomprehensible and noisy language. Some of them
even flew on to his back and shoulders, and he touched them without
their flying away.
I was astounded at the familiarity which existed between the madman and
the birds. They seemed to understand each other, and had I only been
sufficiently imaginative I might have asserted that I even saw them
kissing him. Unfortunately, when the first astonishment was over I
understood the reason of the affection on the part of the scavengers,
and the whole mystery was unveiled to me. Like all mysteries, the
apparently extraordinary friendship between the madman and the black
birds turned out to be a plain bit of literal prose, and, I must add, a
very disgusting bit. The maniac was covered with vermin, and the
affectionate kisses of the crows were not kisses of love or sympathy,
but only mouthfuls of parasites, which they found among the thick hair
of his body.
Two or three times the maniac crawled up to me, and seemed anxious to
touch the colours on my palette, and also to put his fingers on the
sketch. He saw that he gained nothing by being a foe, so he became a
friend. He even became a great friend when I presented him with a shiny
silver coin.
Though Omangus was undoubtedly insane, he was a very practical person.
As will be seen by the illustration, his attire was simple, and no
allowance was made for pockets. He looked at the coin, turned it over in
his hands several times, and grinned; then he placed it in his mouth for
safe keeping. His mouth was apparently his purse. As I saw that he was
fond of silver coins, I gave him one or two more, and all of them were
religiously kept in the same natural pocket, except at night, when he
hid them under a large stone. At sunrise they were collected again and
placed back under his tongue or in one of his cheeks.
I cannot say that my host was by any means brilliant, but, like most
lunatics, he was a good soul apart from his little peculiarities. It was
unfortunate that he had lost the power of speech, or I might have learnt
some strange things from him.
Omangus was generally restless at night, and while asleep he seemed to
suffer from awful nightmares. Most Ainu as a rule do not. One morning at
dawn, as the first rays of light penetrated the hut, I watched him. He
had been groaning frightfully all night, and I had not been able to
sleep. He was lying flat on his back breathing heavily, and now and then
he had a kind of spasm, during which he ground his teeth together with
violence. It was during these spasms, or nervous contractions, that he
groaned most fiercely. As he was so stretched I noticed how
extraordinarily long his femur was compared to his tibia. I gently
placed my hand over his heart, and found it was beating rapidly and
irregularly. His forehead also was feverish and abnormally warm. He did
not wake up, but as soon as the nervous strain was over he fell into a
lethargic state. He appeared to have lost all strength, and it took me
some time to awake him; but he finally opened his eyes, and, drowsily
getting up, yawned to his heart's content, and went to fetch the hidden
coins.
The more I saw of Omangus, the more he puzzled me. His faculties were
defective; still, he seemed to possess a fairly good memory. If not, how
could he remember the concealed treasure? Although he was not able to
form ideas of his own, he could retain those which he had grasped. His
hearing was extremely acute, and his inability to speak must have
undoubtedly been caused by paralysis of the tongue and vocal organs.
Several times he made violent attempts to utter words, which he would
not have done had he been born dumb.
After the second day of my pleasant stay in Omangus' ten feet square
sea-side residence my host became more genial and even affectionate.
Instead of constantly running away from me he sat opposite me,
attentively watching all my movements; and if I happened to be
whistling, he slowly crept nearer, grinning with delight. Occasionally
he crouched himself by my side, even resting against me. I did not
approve of the latter proof of affection, not so much for his own sake
as on account of the "large company" which he carried with him; but I
had to put up with it until I found a counter-action in loud singing,
which frightened him away.
Omangus had a quantity of last year's salmon, which he had dried in the
sun, and which was now hanging from the roof of the little hut. The
first day or two of my stay there I had but little to eat, owing to his
belligerent behaviour. He rebelled every time that I attempted to touch
his provisions, and what I had to eat was generally appropriated while
my host was out. Afterwards, however, he became generous, and gave me
more than I wanted. He took good care to draw the three coins out of his
mouth while he was eating, but once, during a nervous fit, to which he
was often subject, he swallowed one of them.
One morning, weary of my lunatic friend's company, I packed all my traps
and went to fetch my pony. Omangus seemed aghast, suspecting that I was
about to leave. He was restless, and followed me, moaning, from the hut
to the pony and back, and, with a forlorn look in his eyes, watched me
bring the baggage outside and lash it to the pack-saddle. I gave him a
couple more silver coins, which I thought would make him happy; but he
dropped them in the sand. I bade good-bye to him and left; and there
poor Omangus stood motionless, gazing at me until the winding shore took
me round the cliff. He was out of sight for some minutes, but he soon
reappeared on the summit of the cliff itself, on to which he rapidly
climbed, and from this point of vantage he could see the coast for
several miles. There standing, a black figure against the rising sun,
the hairy Ainu became smaller and smaller as I moved away from him,
until nothing but a black spot could be seen against the sky; then even
that spot disappeared. It was the last I saw of my host the madman.
The rivers were troublesome all along this part of my journey, and as
most of them had quicksands, the safest plan was to cross them in a
boat, when this was obtainable. However, as I went further north the
boats became scarce and more scarce, and the small villages, few and
very far between. I seldom came across a human being with whom I could
exchange a word, and the constant solitude induced in me the bad habit
of talking to myself, to animals, or to inanimate objects. My
unfortunate pony was often lectured on different subjects, and the
millions of seagulls and penguins all along the coast were asked
questions of all sorts, which, however, they invariably left unanswered.
It was strange to see the myriads of birds stretched in two or three
lines along the shore. Like the "beasts which roamed over the plains" in
Alexander Selkirk's lament, they had seen so few human beings as to be
indifferent to me and my pony, and I could walk among them without
disturbing them or causing them to fly away. The penguins were my
greatest source of amusement, with their fat bodies and their funny way
of lifting up one leg as I was approaching, in order to get enough
spring to raise themselves from the ground had I attempted to capture
them. I was soliloquising, according to my then custom, while watching
these droll birds, when not more than two hundred yards ahead I saw two
large eagles. One of them was perched on a low cliff, the other was
flying about, now and then returning near to its mate. I dismounted,
with my revolver in my hand; I had a pocketful of cartridges. I crept
stealthily from rock to rock, keeping well out of their sight until I
came close to the pinnacled rock on which they stood. I was then about
fifty yards from them, and it was useless my firing at such a distance
with a revolver. I peeped over the rocks, and one of them saw me and
flew away, while the other remained where it was, stretching its neck in
my direction. Its piercing eyes were fixed full on me as I was
approaching; it understood that danger was imminent, and it seemed ready
to resist the attack. I drew nearer and nearer, and when about four
yards away I fired two shots, both of which went through its breast, and
the eagle, with its widespread wings, fell from its lofty pinnacle and
came down heavily on its back.
In its last convulsions it made desperate efforts to clutch me with its
long sharp claws; but a couple more shots finished it. The male bird,
which meanwhile had been describing circles high up in the sky over my
head, plunged down on me with incredible velocity. I emptied the last
chamber of my revolver into him, just as the wind of his large wings
made my eyes twinkle; and to evade the grip of his outstretched claws I
had to cover my face with my left arm. The report stunned him, and
flapping his wings, he rose again, to resume his circling over my head,
leaving a few of his feathers floating in the air. I reloaded quickly,
and each time he attacked me he was received with a volley. Another
bullet went through his wing, and his flying became unsteady; he flew
on to a distant cliff, and there he remained. I seized this opportunity
of carrying the dead bird away and lash it on to my saddle; but while I
was so engaged the male eagle flew back to the pinnacle where I had
first seen the two together, and stretching his enormous wings to their
full width, screamed as if in despair. On the pinnacle was their nest
and young, and that was why the female had kept watch and ward over her
eyrie, and also why she had not abandoned it even when I approached.
I mounted my pony and away I rode with my prey. The male bird followed
me for miles and miles, and now and then I had to fire to keep him at a
respectful distance. Ultimately he left me, and my delight was immense
when, instead of seeing him over my head, ready to plunge on me at any
moment, I saw him disappear behind the cliff, flying rapidly but
unsteadily back to his eyrie.
As I now made sure that he had no intention of pursuing me any longer, I
dismounted, and proceeded to skin the eagle I had shot. It was decidedly
a magnificent specimen. It measured seven feet from tip to tip of wings,
and its claws were nearly as large as a child's hand. The semicircular
nails measured two inches, and were extremely pointed, which fact made
me feel very thankful that I had just escaped the grip of its male
companion. The beak was enormous, of a rich yellow colour, the upper
mandible overlapping the lower. The feathers were black all over, with
the exception of the tail, which was white. I believe that this kind of
eagle is generally called the "black sea-eagle," and is found in
Kamschatka, Yezo, and also along the Siberian coast of the Japan Sea and
Gulf of Tartary.
I found a sheltered spot, and with my large Ainu knife proceeded to
dissect the bird. Each minute seemed as long as hours, for I feared the
male bird might reappear on the scene as I was thus occupied in
stripping the skin from the carcass of his beloved helpmate. There is no
knowing what effect anatomical researches might have on a Yezo eagle. My
heart bounded with joy when the operation was successfully completed,
and I went to wash my hands in the sea. I came back to the bird, or
rather its skin, and I was indeed proud of my work, when a horrid idea
struck me. How was I to get the skin dried? I should be moving day
after day, and it would not be possible to pack it in that condition
among my sketches; I had no arsenical soap, and unless I dried it in the
sun it would certainly rot, and get spoiled.
I resorted to a trick. I fastened two sticks crossways, and having stuck
one up the eagle's neck, I fastened the two opened wings to the two side
branches of the cross. The skin was thus kept well opened, and with two
additional strings, one at each wing, the frame was fastened on to my
back, the feathered side against my coat, while the inside was exposed
to the sun and the wind. In wading a river I saw my own image reflected
in the water, and I must confess the appearance was strange. A few hours
after a group of Ainu were able to certify to this. I was riding slowly
along the shore, when I saw a few of them not very far ahead. Two men
were the first to notice me, and they seemed terror-stricken. As I
approached they stood still for a minute, shading their eyes with their
hands so as to make out what kind of winged animal it was they saw
riding on horseback. When they discovered that the black wings were on a
human being, the two brave Ainu fled, crying out, "_Wooi, wooi!_" the
hairy people's cry of distress.
As I got nearer the village, dozens of wild dogs came to meet me, and,
barking furiously, followed my pony, while the few inhabitants,
frightened out of their wits at such an unusual sight, hid themselves
inside their huts. Two or three hurriedly launched their "dug-outs" and
put out to sea. When I passed the first hut some large salmon were
thrown at me from inside, probably with the idea that I might satisfy my
appetite on them, and spare the lives of the trembling donors. Food was
not over-plentiful along that coast, so I dismounted and picked up the
provisions so munificently provided by the scared natives. I tied them
on each side of my pack-saddle, not sorry to be thus saved from the
danger of dying of starvation--at least for the next two or three days.
As I was so occupied, a little child about four years old, evading the
vigilance of his parents, ran out of one of the huts. I took him in my
arms; whereat he cried bitterly, and when the people inside heard it
there were screams of indignation and despair.
Maternal love is occasionally strong even among Ainu women, and while I
tried hard to quiet the shrieking baby, his mother, as pale as the dirt
on her face allowed her to be, came out trembling, and, offering me
another large salmon, begged me to accept it in exchange for her child,
who, she said, was not good to eat! It is needless to say that I was
magnanimous enough to accept her offer, and thereupon handed the child
over to his mother, who fled with him back into the hut. Then I took off
my wings and went in after her, explaining to the frightened natives
what I really was. It took them some minutes, however, to overcome their
first impression, and then the men were pretty hard on the women for
having given all the salmon away. The same scene was more or less
vividly repeated when I came across any other natives during all the
time that I wore the eagle-skin on my back. I have related this small
anecdote, as, a few years hence, when some worthy missionary or
imaginative traveller visits that barren coast of Yezo, it is not
improbable that he may hear of some additional Ainu legend, which, the
good missionaries will say, proves that the Ainu are fully aware of the
existence of heaven and hell.
"A heathen child," the legend will very likely run, "whose parents had
not embraced our Christian faith, was one day plainly seen by his mother
in the arms of a black-winged devil. The devil was seen by many, and he
came from the lower regions on an unknown animal with huge side
paunches, in which he kept the heathen children he had eaten. The
mother, who, through her wickedness, saw herself deprived of her child,
gave offerings to the gods, some through the eastern window for the
sun-god, and some through the door for the other gods. The offerings
were accepted, but none of the gods came to her help, and the child was
nearly lost. Her guiding star appeared to her in that supreme moment,
and inspired her to reach down from the roof the largest salmon in
store. She walked out of the hut and offered it to another god, whom she
knew not before. Instantly the child was restored to his mother. (That
the god took the salmon would probably be omitted in the legend.) The
black-winged demon vanished, and the hut was visited by a white being
(freely translated, "the guardian angel"), with a halo (my white terai
hat) round his head. He rewarded them, and from that day the family has
been happy in the faith which they learned in such a miraculous manner."
"Does not this legend speak for itself?" the good missionaries will tell
us. "Does it not show that the savage Ainu are Christians without
knowing it?"
I have given these two versions of the same story, as they show the
reader how easy it is to garble accounts and misrepresent facts. It is a
good illustration of what I say in my chapter on the Ainu beliefs and
superstitions, and I must be forgiven if I have ventured to make fun of
the missionaries. It is not because I dislike them, for I gladly admit
that some of them out in the East have done good work; but,
unfortunately, most of them will not take an open-minded view of facts.
They are so wrapped up in their good work of converting people to
Christianity that, outside of that, they occasionally have a tendency to
tinge with their own preconceived ideas, facts which to a less biased
mind appear simple enough.
[Illustration: SARUBUTS, SHOWING RIVER-COURSE ALTERED BY DRIFT SAND.]