Late in the summer following the capture of Golownin and his companions, the “Diana,” now under the command of Captain Rikord, came back to Kunashiri. Of the two Japanese seized by Chwostoff, one had died. The other, who called himself Ryōzayemon, Rikord had on board, along with six other Japanese, lately shipwrecked on Kamtschatka, hoping to exchange these seven for the seven Russians. On reaching the bay where Golownin had been taken, he saw a new battery of fourteen guns. All the buildings were covered with striped cloth, the boats were drawn up on the shore, and not a person appeared.
Ryōzayemon, in his six years’ captivity, had learned some Russian, and he was employed to write a short letter from Captain Rikord to the commander on shore, stating his having brought back the seven Japanese, and requesting the restoration of his countrymen. From some circumstances, the good faith of Ryōzayemon was suspected, and the contents of the letter written by him rather distrusted; still it was finally sent on shore by one of the Japanese, upon whom the batteries fired as he landed, and who returned no more.
Three days after, a second Japanese was sent with a written message in the Russian language; but he came back, saying that the governor had refused to receive it, and that he had been himself thrust out of the castle. As a last resource, Ryōzayemon—who represented himself as a merchant, and a person of some consequence, though in fact he had been only a fishing agent—was sent on shore, with another Japanese, on his promise to return with such information as he could obtain. He did return, without the other, and stated that the Russians were all dead. Sent on shore to obtain in writing a confirmation of this verbal statement, he came back no more.
Rikord now determined to seize any Japanese vessel that might be entering or leaving the harbor. A large Japanese ship soon appeared, from which, as the Russian boats approached her, several of her crew of sixty men jumped into the water. Nine were drowned, some escaped to the shore, and others were picked up by the Russian boats. The captain, who was taken on board the “Diana,” appeared, from his rich yellow dress, his swords, and other circumstances, to be a person of distinction. Being interrogated in Japanese, of which Rikord had picked up a little from Ryōzayemon, he answered with great frankness that his name was Takataya Kahei, that he was the owner of ten ships, and bound from Yetorofu (the nineteenth Kurile) to Hakodate with a cargo of dried fish, but had been obliged by contrary winds to put into the bay of Kunashiri.
Being shown the letter written by Ryōzayemon, he exclaimed, “Captain Moor[96] and five Russians are now in the city of Matsumae.” This information was hardly credited, and Rikord finally resolved to convey his captive to Kamtschatka, hoping, in the course of the winter, to obtain through him some information respecting the fate of the Russians, and the views of the Japanese government, especially as he seemed far superior to any of the Japanese with whom they had hitherto met, and therefore more likely to understand the policy of those who ruled in Japan.
“I informed him,” says Rikord, “that he must hold himself in readiness to accompany me to Russia, and explained the circumstances which compelled me to make such an arrangement. He understood me perfectly, and when I proceeded to state my belief that Captain Golownin, Mr. Moor, and the rest of the Russian prisoners had been put to death, he suddenly interrupted me, exclaiming, ‘That is not true. Captain Moor and five Russians are living in Matsumae, where they are well treated, and enjoy the freedom of walking about the city, accompanied by two officers.’ When I intimated that we intended to take him with us, he replied, with astonishing coolness, ‘Well, I am ready’; and merely requested that, on our arrival in Russia, he might continue to live with me. This I promised he should do, and likewise that I would carry him back to Japan in the ensuing year. He then seemed perfectly reconciled to his unlooked-for destiny.
“The four Japanese, who still remained on board the ship, understood not a word of Russian, and were, besides, so afflicted with the scurvy[97] that they would, in all probability, have perished had they wintered in Kamtschatka. I therefore thought it advisable to set them at liberty, and, having furnished them with every necessary, I ordered them to be put on shore, hoping that they would, in gratitude, give a good account of the Russians to their countrymen.[98] In their stead, I determined to take four seamen from the Japanese vessel, who might be useful in attending on Kahei, to whom I left the choice of the individuals. He earnestly entreated that none of the seamen might be taken, observing that they were extremely stupid, and that he feared they would die of grief, owing to the dread they entertained of the Russians. The earnestness of his solicitations led me in some measure to doubt that our comrades were really living in Matsumae, and I repeated, in a decided manner, my determination to take four of the seamen. He then begged that I would accompany him to his ship. When he went on board, he assembled the whole of his crew in the cabin, and, having seated himself on a long cushion, which was placed on a fine mat, requested that I would take my place beside him. The sailors all knelt down (seated themselves on their heels?) before us, and he delivered a long speech, in which he stated that it would be necessary for some of them to accompany us to Russia.
“Here a very affecting scene was exhibited. A number of the seamen approached him, with their heads bent downwards, and, with great eagerness, whispered something to him. Their countenances were all bathed in tears; even Kahei, who had hitherto evinced calmness and resolution, seemed now to be deeply distressed, and began to weep. I for some time hesitated to carry my resolution into effect, and was only induced to adhere to it by the consideration that I would hereafter have the opportunity of interrogating each individual separately, and probably thereby ascertaining whether or not our comrades were really alive in Matsumae. I had, however, in other respects, no reason to repent of this determination, for the Japanese merchant, who was accustomed to live in a style of Asiatic luxury, would have experienced serious inconvenience on board our vessel without his Japanese attendants, two of whom were always, by turns, near his person.
“Kahei, and the sailors he selected, soon behaved as though our ship had been their own, and we, on our side, employed every means to convince them that we considered the Japanese, not as a hostile, but as a friendly nation, with whom our good understanding was only accidentally interrupted.
“The same day we received on board, at my invitation, from the captured vessel, a Japanese lady, who had been the inseparable companion of Kahei on his voyage from Hakodate, his place of residence, to Etorofu. She was extremely desirous of seeing our ship, and the strange people and polite enemies, as she styled us, and to witness our friendly intercourse with her countrymen. A Japanese lady was also, to us, no slight object of curiosity. When she came on board, she appeared very timid and embarrassed. I requested Kahei to conduct her into my cabin, and, as she advanced, I took her by the other hand. On reaching the cabin-door, she wished to take off her straw shoes; but, as there were neither mats nor carpets in my cabin, I explained to her, by signs, that this singular mark of politeness might be dispensed with among us.