After partaking of some honourable tea and being supplied with ‘waragi’ (straw sandals) and long sticks, as the road was bad, we left our jinrickshaws and coolies to wait our return, and started off on foot.
The island is only accessible at low tide, so we waited patiently on the beach for an hour, and watched the innumerable little ‘sampans,’ with their curious square sails, plying their way through the surf.
As soon as the tide was sufficiently low, we were carried across to the island on the backs of some funny brown-skinned fishermen--an experience more exciting than comfortable.
THE MONASTERY IN THE ROCK.
Then up the narrow street, with quaint little shops on either side, where we spent all our ‘sens’ buying curious shell ornaments, dried sea-horses and endless rubbish; and where I distinguished myself by purchasing what I fondly imagined to be the red, painted shell of a small crab. On putting it, for safety, in the crown of my hat, I discovered, to my horror, the brute was still alive and capable of using its claws!
Then a steep climb up the rocks, at every turn getting the most glorious peeps of the sea down below, until we arrived, hot and breathless, at the monastery. There we found two smiling monks, ‘all shaven and shorn,’ standing at the door waiting to receive us, who begged us ‘to be kind enough to favour their wretched dwelling by reposing our honourable forms on a mat.’ In a weak moment, I suggested a bath, always a great institution in Japan on every possible occasion, and our guide, translating my request to the monks, was informed that one should be prepared immediately for the ‘ojo-sama’ (honourable young lady) at whatever temperature she required.
In the meantime, we decided to climb to the topmost rock and inspect the view. On our return, I was told that my bath was ready, and, with many smiles and the lowest of bows, I was conducted by two of the monks to a large open quadrangle, in the centre of which was a big wooden tub, about four feet high, out of which clouds of steam were issuing. Groups of monks stood about the quadrangle. The advent of visitors was a great event in their monotonous lives and the idea that I might not appreciate their presence had not occurred to them for a moment.
What on earth was I to do?
I explained as well as I could, to our guide, that foreign ladies were not accustomed to take their baths in public, and at length, after an animated conversation, of which I did not understand a word, to my great relief, I saw that terrible and still steaming tub being slowly but surely removed from its place of honour.