On the 16th boats were sent down to survey and ascertain the depth of water in the cove which opens on the left hand just after entering the inner bay in which is situated the Saru-Sima, by some called “Perry island.” The steamers followed during the day down to this anchorage, but the wind proving light and baffling, the sailing ships did not get there until evening, one of them meanwhile having drifted afoul of the other, on having to come suddenly to anchor, and carrying away a flying-jib boom. Here, before dusk, a Japanese official, who spoke Dutch, brought off as presents game-fowls which had beautiful plumage, lacquered-ware, some of their small pipes and mild tobacco, and brocade interwoven with gold thread. These were refused until they consented to receive presents in return. They would not give one of their blades nor receive one of our swords; such an exchange did not indicate friendship according to their ideas, nor was the parting with any Japanese arms allowed by their laws. They expressed great desire to know when we should leave, and manifested much solicitude and anxiety about our remaining. This curiosity was not gratified.
We had now been in their waters about eight days, during which we had only one opportunity of noticing things and people, near by on shore, and then for not a very long time. But what we had been able to observe, assured us that the Japanese were a superior race, though they might belong to the same variety of the human family as their pig-tail neighbors. Their complexions were better, their features more regular, they had not a great obliquity of eye; their manners were more collected and impressive, their bearing more dignified, their costume less sacerdotal; and their crowns, instead of displaying a patch of hair the size of a dinner-plate behind, with a pendent plait, were shaven in an oval on the top, around which the hair was brushed perpendicularly, and pomatumed, terminating in a tie, from which the united ends, adhering together with the pomatum, laid like a cheroot-cigar in form, the end pointing to the brow, in the centre of the place that the razor has denuded. They look like the literary gentlemen whose bald heads cause their foreheads to run back nearly to their coat-collar. Certain it is that they can hardly be deemed descendants of the son of Manoah, of whom it was prophesied—“and no razor shall come on his head.”
Their boats were sharp, and by the continued action of the sculls—instead of rowing on their sides—were impelled with greater speed than the boats of the celestials; while the nice bows to their junks indicated great superiority, and the single white canvass sail, stretched by a yard from their enormous mast, was far more pleasant to the eye and sensible than the dingy mat-sail of the Chinaman. Their plan of reducing sail is singular: instead of lessening the hoist of the sail as other nations do, as in reefing, they reduce the width of their sail by unlacing a cloth from either side. We did not on this visit get in the vicinity of the large capital but could form some idea of its consumption by the immense number of coasting-junks for ever going up and returning, keeping white the bay, with their singular sails, in centre of which black characters told the district they were from, or it was indicated by strips of black cloth hanging on either end of the yard. It was soon apparent, and the Japanese were no doubt aware that we knew it, that if it should become necessary to resort to offensive measures, that the blockading of the custom-port of Uraga, and the stoppage of the passage of their junks with their supplies to the immense city, would make them very effective. Their forts would not have been able to have raised the blockade; we could have kept out of the reach of their guns, and peppered them with the long range of our own.
On Sunday morning, July 17, at daybreak, we lifted anchor, and the Susquehanna with the Saratoga in tow, and the Mississippi towing the Plymouth, we proceeded down the outer bay, and left for a time the waters of Japan, numbers on shore and the troops on the parapets of the forts of Kami Saki looking at us, and apparently much pleased with the movement. This time we kept down the opposite side of the bay from the one by which we had arrived, and by eleven o’clock we were abreast of Misaki Awa, or the southernmost point of the bay on the east, off which we noticed swimming a number of seals. The natives in the small boats, having gotten more confidence, on our approach, pulled as near to us as the revolving-wheel would permit them. We ran in sight of the large volcanic island, named on the Dutch charts as Vries, but called Oho Sima, or Bird island, by the Japanese. Evening saw us threading our way through a group of islands, whose barren surfaces presented a desolate sight. One of them was Fatisisio, the penal settlement or Botany Bay of Japan.
On the 18th a man fell overboard from the Plymouth, but by cutting away, promptly, a life-buoy which he struck out for and reached, and promptly lowering away a boat, he was saved. I could not but recollect that there was a man overboard from the same ship the day before, but under different circumstances, as was told by the half-raised ensigns at the peaks of the four ships. Poor Jack had died after we had gotten to sea, and the ocean which had been his home during life, before nightfall was to cover him with its waves. The boatswain’s call was not “Heave-to,” as to-day, but piped, which was echoed through the ship by each of his mates, “All hands bury the dead” and as the sun went down, with two of the iron messengers, which he had been proud to have hurled at the enemies of the star-flag, tied to his feet, and wrapped in the hammock in which with stormy lullaby he had often swung, and swinging, dreamed of home and its endearments, poor Jack was launched into the sea, and soon sank “deeper than ever plummet sounded.”
The next day we encountered a heavy swell and a stiff breeze, it then became squally, and there was every indication about the horizon of bad weather approaching. As it was getting quite rough, and there being danger of parting the towing-hawsers, the sloops-of-war were cast off from the steamers, the Saratoga being signaled to make the best of her way to Shanghae, and the Plymouth to proceed to our next place of rendezvous—Loo-Choo. By meridian of the 20th we had a strong gale of wind on us; top-gallant masts were sent down, top-masts housed, and storm-sails bent. At three o’clock the ship pitched away her head-sounding spars, springing the bowsprit in the cap; but the wreck of the spars was gotten on board, so as to give us no trouble by becoming entangled in our wheels. The Susquehanna lost her sounding-spars also, or cut them away.
At night the sea having increased, both steamers having burnt out a considerable portion of their coal, rolled deeply and heavily. We lost, by being filled with the sea, the captain’s gig from our stern-davits,—one of the prettiest and fastest boats in the squadron. The next morning, from the port wheel-house a handsome whale-boat was washed away with oars, sails, mast, and breaker. By mid-day it became apparent, that we were in a cyclone, or revolving-gale, and both ships were “wore” to stand out of it. On the 23d the gale having moderated, though the barometer still continued low, we proceeded on our course. This being the first very ugly weather that we had had since leaving home, landsmen had a fine opportunity of enjoying the comforts of a gale of wind—such as holding on to your basin with one hand, and performing the ablution with the other; waking up in the morning, with your shoes floating about, underneath your cot: at breakfast, the delight of a sticky, salty atmosphere is increased, by your chair sliding with you down to leeward with each roll, or, if attempting to grapple the table with one hand, a cup of tea precipitates itself inside of your vest, while you are attempting to secure your nicely-prepared eggs, that in a moment fresco the deck under foot; the saccharine is largely mixed with the saline, by the mingling contents of the sugar-bowl and saltcellar. This is the pleasurable experience of those, who “go down to the great deep in ships.”
We reached the south end of Loo-Choo, on the evening of the 24th, but the weather being thick and foggy, could not run into the roads, so stood off during the night. This day we recorded the occurrence of the first death—one of the men, who contracted a fever on board of the Chinese junk lost at the mouth of the Yang-tse-kiang. He was buried the next day in the foreigners’ grove at Tumai.
On running into Napa-roads the next day, we had some hopes of finding there the steam-frigate, Powhatan, of whose sailing from the United States we had intelligence, but were disappointed. The Supply lay there alone. From her officers we learned, that the cyclone, that we were in, had been felt with great force at Loo-Choo. They had not only to let go all their anchors, but had also slung some of their carronades to prevent the ship’s dragging on the reefs.
We found that there had been no increase in sociability, and no improvement in the manners of our friends, the Loo-Chooans; and probably with the view to reduce the length of our stay, they had diminished the supply of provisions to the ships—although well paid for them. They plead scarcity, even to sweet potatoes and watermelons, though they might easily be seen growing in their fields. They preferred our loving and leaving them, but the commodore had another interview with his coy-friend, the regent, in which he desired to know, why they wished to cut off supplies; also that their officers must cease to dog our steps on shore, and that they must open their stores. As a mouse in the talons of the eagle, they promised everything, and promised a bazar on a subsequent day, at which the Americans might purchase whatever they had to sell. While this forcible diplomatic wooing was going on, the younger officers, who had the opportunity, were enjoying the delightful walk to the Komooe at Sheudi, or killing wild pigeons and curlew on shore—a delightful gastronomic episode, after a stretch of salt-junk.