After a long struggle we got safely to the other side, and the Ainu boatman guided me for a mile or so to the fishing village at the mouth of the river. It has but ten huts, all more or less miserable. The pony was so done up that he was hardly fit to carry my traps, much less could he have borne my weight. I could not get a fresh animal, so I had to push forward walking, and dragging the beast on as well as I could. This had the advantage of keeping me warm, which I needed badly, for what with the cold and my dilapidated costume I was more nearly frozen to death than was pleasant. The track was heavy in the soft sand, and the dangerous and numerous quicksand streams were enough to make a saint swear—if swearing would have done any good. How unspeakably desolate it all was! Not a soul to be met; not a hut to be seen! Here and there more wreckage and drift-wood on the shore, telling of storms and death, and the absence of all human aid. At last I came in sight of an Ainu hut; but as I drew near I found that it was abandoned. My meals, never very plentiful, were now specially scanty—few and far between; and, taken altogether, this part of my travels in Ainuland was somewhat lacking in cheerfulness.
The cliffs near Wembets have the strange appearance of so many cones at equal intervals along the coast. On the Wembets River there were as many as two huts; and here again I had to cross in a boat, the stream being too deep to ford on foot or horseback; then again along the sand, dragging my pony, while I myself could hardly stand on my half-skinned feet, I went on and on, wearied of the monotony of my miserable experiences. The track grew narrow, and always worse. The high grey cliffs of clay-rock began, and the rough sea washed up to the foot of them, making progress more than ever unpleasant and dangerous. Each wave that came brought the water up to my knees, often up to my waist, and for about ten miles I was continually in and out of water. On a cold day my readers can imagine how pleasant it was! About sunset I came in sight of the two flat islands of Teuri and Yangeshiri, about fifteen miles off the coast. It then grew dark; but the moon came to my help, shining brightly on the greyish cliffs. The tide had risen, and in several places I had great difficulty in getting across on account of the furious waves dashing against the cliffs, and making a picturesque and living sheet of foam.
Late at night, as I had almost given up all hope of finding a shelter, I came upon a shed on the Furembets River, where I put up for the night.
My wretched pony was nearly dead with fatigue, and I let him loose so that he might get a feed of grass. The next morning, after the inmates of the hut had volunteered to go and bring him back to me, I heard them on the distant hills calling, "Pop, pop, pop, pop!" the Ainu way of approaching and calling horses. After a time they came back hopeless, saying that the brute had bolted, and there was no hope of getting him again. He could not be found anywhere! I was in the most awful dilemma, for had that been the case I would have been forced to abandon all my impedimenta, consisting of sketches and painting materials, and proceed as best I could on foot. Under other circumstances I could have carried the baggage on my back easily; but as I was half-starved, and had my feet badly cut, I was hardly able to carry my own weight; therefore this was not possible now.
As incredulity is one of the useful qualities I possess, I went to look after my pony myself. The shed was protected by a sand-mound at the back, and a small space was left between the mound and the wall of the shed. I do not know what made me go and look there, but sure enough there was my pony lying flat, and almost too weak to get up again. This was no horse-stealing ruse on the part of the Ainu; simply the wretched animal's own idea of good stabling and likely fodder. I dragged him out of his involuntary prison, and after having done what I could for his comfort and well-being, we set out once more on our melancholy travels. This may sound cruel to some who in the course of their life have never travelled in out-of-the-way places, and who are ready to condemn anyone who is the means of letting an animal suffer. It may sound cruel in our humane country, where animals are protected and prize-fights tolerated and enjoyed; so to avoid misunderstandings it might be as well for me to say, that as regards this tired pony it was simply the matter to push on with him as far as I could or lose all the valuable materials I had collected during months of sufferings and privations. No ponies were to be got for any money along that deserted coast, for there were none in existence. I did my best to alleviate the poor animal's sufferings by undergoing myself a considerable amount of pain, walking most of the way with my feet a mass of sores; and as winter was rapidly coming on, I was more than anxious to make my way south with all the speed I could, to prevent being blocked up with snow and ice and forced to spend the winter on this inhospitable coast. Consequently, I was, as a matter of fact, more cruel to myself than to my animals; to the others, those who will still cast the first stone at me, I can wish no better punishment than to be placed in the same position I was then. The trail became somewhat better, as it led over the cliffs for about three miles; then again it was on the beach. The high cliffs varied from a very rich burnt sienna colour to a nice warm grey, and in some places they are perfectly white, like the cliffs at Dover. Conical mounds frequently occur, and give a curious aspect to this deserted shore. Ten miles further on, at Chukbets, I found a couple of huts; then I walked and dragged the pony on the cliffs for about four miles; then again I resorted to the beach; and finally I entered Hamboro, a small village, or rather a picturesque group of sheds and huts, and a capital fishing-station. Shake, salmon, mashe, and herrings are caught in abundance at the mouth of this river. A short distance from here hundreds of carcasses of seals were scattered on the beach, whence emanated pestilential odours. On account of the slowness of my pony I had to-night a modified repetition of last night's experience, but neither was the sea so rough nor the trail so narrow at the bottom of the cliffs; and though my wretched animal was naturally in a worse condition than before, I was able to push on to Tomamai that same night, where I arrived at a small hour of the morning.
At Tomamai, the coast, which had described a long curve, the two ends of which are Ikuru north and this point south, turns sharply in a southerly direction, running straight for many miles from north to south.
From Tomamai southwards the coast is not quite as deserted as it was further north, for here and there are villages of fishermen's houses. The population, however, is a migratory one, and when I went through, the herring-fishing season was over, and consequently most of the houses were abandoned and the people had migrated south. The winter weather is very severe, and the houses have to be barricaded with thick piles of wood as a protection against the strong westerly gales. The boats had been drawn far on shore, where they were well fastened to posts, and rough sheds thatched with grass built over them.
Along the coast there was a string of these habitations, hut after hut, storehouse after storehouse, but hardly a soul to be seen. It was like going through the city of the dead. Many of the fishermen's huts were built on the side of the rugged cliffs, and they stood on piles about fifteen feet high, the back of the house resting on the cliff itself. Twelve and a half miles further another row of houses, similarly deserted for the winter, stood along the shore-line at Onishika. In this part of the coast salmon are very scarce, and the chief industry is the herring fishery. There are no Ainu to be found either at Tomamai or Onishika.
I continued my lonesome ride in the pouring rain, and soon came to a peculiar long tunnel, natural and partly excavated, between this place and Rumoi, a village prettily situated on the slope of a hill fifteen miles further. This place possesses a small anchorage at the mouth of the river, which is now only fit for junks and small sailing-boats, but could be considerably improved. Good coal has been discovered some way up the river. There is a track on the cliffs leading to Mashike. All along the coast are any number of fishermen's houses, but they were all closed and barricaded. Ultimately, descending from the cliffs in a zig-zag fashion, after another ten miles' ride I found myself at Mashike, the largest Japanese village in the Teshio district. Close to the tunnel there is a small Ainu village, where the natives let their hair grow very long, and then tie it up in a kind of knot, similar to the Corean fashion of head-dress, while the women have given up tattooing altogether. The fishermen at Mashike seem to suffer greatly from "Kaki," or rheumatism, and cancer, while consumption, malarial fever, and typhus are in a small proportion.
I had to stop over one day at Mashike, for the river was swollen by the heavy rains, and it was impossible to get across. On the other side of it stood Mashike-san, a huge volcanic mountain rising sheer from the sea, and forming Cape Kamuieto, under the shelter of which lies Mashike village; and further south Cape Uhui projects into the sea. It is the end of a mountain range which here runs north and then south again, in the latter part forming one side of the upper basin of the Teshio River. Mashike is the largest settlement either on the north-east or west coast of Yezo. Its population is partly migratory, but not so wholly as is the case with the villages I had previously passed. I was delayed still another day owing to the condition of the river; for the rain, instead of decreasing, poured down to such an extent that the stream could not be crossed, the current being too swift and the water too deep. The sea was also too rough to allow of my leaving Mashike in a canoe.