Having dropped anchor within three hundred yards of the island of Deshima, they were again boarded by two Japanese officers, with a host of attendants, who made a careful examination of all on board, according to a list given them, writing down their names and business. Five or six of the number were then subjected to a strict cross-examination as to all the particulars of the voyage. It so happened that the steward had died, the day before their arrival, of a fit of apoplexy, consequent upon his being denied any more arrack, or brandy—apart from his drinking, an able man, and, as Kämpfer tells us, the son of a noted divine at the Hague, but who, by early indulgence, had fallen into debaucheries and a dissolute life. Many questions were asked about the dead man, and his breast and other parts of the corpse were carefully examined to see if there were any cross or other mark of the popish religion upon it. After much urging, the Japanese consented to the immediate removal of the body; but none of the ship’s company were allowed to attend, or to see what was done with it. As soon as this roll-calling and examination were over, Japanese soldiers and revenue officers were put into every corner, and the ship was, as it were, completely taken out of the hands of the Dutch. For that day only, they were left in possession of the boats to look after the anchor; but all their arms and gunpowder were taken away. “In short,” says Kämpfer, “had I not been beforehand acquainted with their usual proceedings, I could not have helped thinking that we had got into a hostile country, and had been taken for spies.” That evening was received from the factory a supply of fowls, eggs, fish, shell-fish, turnips, radishes [daikon],—which, as Kämpfer afterwards observed, were largely cultivated, and formed a great part of the food of the country people,—onions, fresh ginger, pumpkins, watermelons, white bread, and a barrel of sake, or Japanese rice-beer.