During the winter passed in Kamtschatka, the Japanese merchant continued to gain in the good opinion of his captors, whose language he so far mastered as to be able to converse in it even on abstract subjects. He seemed to interest himself much in arranging the misunderstanding between the Russian and Japanese governments, and expressed his wish, which he said was shared by others of his class, to see a commercial intercourse opened between the two nations; and it was at his suggestion that Rikord sent to the governor of Irkutsk for a disavowal of the hostile acts of Chwostoff. Kahei remained in good health and spirits till the middle of winter, when the death of two of his Japanese attendants greatly affected him. He became melancholy and peevish, asserted that he had the scurvy, and told the surgeon he should certainly die; but his real disorder was home-sickness, aggravated by apprehensions of being detained at Okhotsk, whither Rikord had intended to sail before proceeding to Japan, in order to get the disavowal above referred to. As Kahei’s assistance seemed essential, Rikord, fearing lest he might die, resolved to sail direct for Japan as soon as the vessel could be cut from the ice,—a resolution by which Kahei’s spirits were greatly raised. They arrived in Kunashiri bay in June, 1813. The buildings were, as formerly, concealed by striped cotton cloth, but no guns were fired, and not a living being was to be seen. When the two Japanese sailors were about to be sent on shore, Rikord, somewhat excited at their master’s declining to pledge himself for their return, bade them say to the governor, that if he prevented them from returning, or sent back no information, their master should be carried to Okhotsk, whence some ships of war should immediately come to demand the liberation of the Russians. “At these words,” says Rikord, “Kahei changed countenance, but said, with much calmness, ‘Commander of the imperial ship’—he always addressed me thus on important occasions—‘thou counsellest rashly. Thy orders to the governor of Kunashiri seem to contain much, but according to our laws they contain little. In vain dost thou threaten to carry me to Okhotsk; my men may be detained on shore, but neither two, nor yet two thousand sailors can answer for me. Therefore I give thee previous notice that it will not be in thy power to take me to Okhotsk. But tell me whether it be under these conditions only that my sailors are to be sent on shore?’ ‘Yes,’ said I; ‘as commander of a ship of war, I cannot under these circumstances act otherwise.’ [Illustration: SCENES IN THE HOME: THE DOCTOR’S CALL; HAIR-DRESSING; A BLIND MASSEUR]