“Behind the street is a convenient house for the sale of goods, and two warehouses, strong enough to hold out against fire, built by the Company at their own expense; also, a large kitchen; a house for the deputies of the governors of Nagasaki, who have the regulation of the trade; a house for the interpreters, made use of only at the time of the sale; a kitchen and pleasure-garden; a place to wash linen and other things; some small private gardens, and a bath. The Otona, or chief officer of the street, has also a house and garden of his own. “Such,” says Kämpfer, “is the state of island,” and such it continues to the present time, “to that small compass of which the Dutch have been confined by the Japanese; and as things now stand, we must be so far satisfied with it, there being no hopes that we shall ever be better accommodated or allowed more liberty by so jealous and circumspect a nation. “Our ships, which put into this harbor once a year, after they have been thoroughly visited by the Japanese, and proper lists taken of all the goods on board, have leave to put their men on shore on this island to refresh them, and to keep them there so long as they lie in the harbor, commonly two or three months. After they have left, the director of our trade remains in the island, with a small number of people, about seven, or more if he thinks proper. “Thus we live all the year round little better than prisoners, confined within the compass of a small island, under the perpetual and narrow inspection of our keepers. ’Tis true, indeed, we are now and then allowed a small escape, an indulgence which, without flattering ourselves, we can by no means suppose to be an effect of their love and friendship, for as much as it is never granted to us, unless it be to pay our respects to some great men, or for some other business, necessary on our side and advantageous for the natives. Nor doth the coming out, even upon these occasions, give us any greater liberty than we enjoy on our island, as will appear, first, by the great expenses of our journeys and visits, great or small, and by the number of guards and inspectors who constantly attend us, as if we were traitors and professed enemies of the empire.