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merable native junks. To show how rapidly the Japanese government is adopting western ideas, especially in methods of war-fare, I count no less than six trim-looking, foreign-built gunboats, carrying the Imperial flag, which in appearance would not discredit any navy in the world.
As we drop anchor within a few yards of one of the trading junks, it may be interesting to describe the appearance of this curious specimen of novel architecture. For many centuries boat and ship building have stood still on account of laws prescribing the shape and size of all water craft. The largest native ships are rarely over one hundred tons burden, and quite unfit for long voyages. The policy of the government has been to prevent a bold, sea faring population from hazarding voyages beyond their own coasts, and to visit foreign countries was especially forbidden. The junk has but one mast, which is « little aft of the centre, and but one larger square sail, attached to the yard, which is raised or lowered by a windlass in the cabin. From the foot of the mast to the stern, the deck rises at an angle of fifty degrees, and the long curved helm looks like the proboscis of a colossal elephant. It is a mystery how sailors can keep their feet in stormy weather on such an inclined plane as the quarter deck of this craft, They are built with open sterns, and strong bulwarks to keep out the water, and the rudder, which is very large and unwieldy, is almost out of sight. Being flat-bottomed, without centre-boards, they can sail before the wind with great rapidity, but on the wind they go sadly to leeward. They have certain marks on the sails which look like patches, designating the owners and the section where they belong. From the high deck of our steamer I can overlook the proceedings on board our neighbor. Sacks of rice are piled so high midships, that, being covered top and sides with matting, it looks like a small house. This craft is evidently the home of large family, for the skipper, his wife and nearly a dozen children are squatted on deck, partaking of their morning meal of rice and fish. Forward I see four or five sailors smoking the pipe of idleness. Their long robes look inconvenient as the “toggery” of a sailor; but when occasion requires they have a way of slipping out of their clothes, and appearing in a costume well adapted to the agile feats of their profession, but rather shocking to the unaccustomed eyes of western barbarians.
