SAM
PATCH

Sammy's notoriety has somewhat spoiled his pristine modesty, and his head, which had never been ballasted with over two-thirds the average quantum of wit, is occasionally turned to the annoyance of his master.—Dr. W. E. GRIFFIS—The Mikado's Empire.

About eighty years ago there started out from a house in Tokyo an unusual funeral procession. The hearse was the regular type of Japanese hearse used by the common people—a small temple-shaped cart, a few feet high, out of which conveyance has developed the elaborate temple-like motor hearses of these days. This cart had been backed up to the entrance of a Japanese house; the sides and roof of the cart had then been taken off and a square box, scarcely three feet square, had been pushed on; the sides and top had then been replaced after which the cart or hearse was pulled away by two old men, poorly dressed, almost in rags and tatters. The relatives of the deceased who were gathered about the front of the house were smiling but they were smiles of sadness rather than of joy, in accordance with the family precept that you must not burden others with your sorrows for your dead. The bystanders were open-mouthed in wonder at the strange funeral procession that was forming.

Three double jinrikisha followed immediately behind the bier; the first carried two elderly Japanese women, the second a foreign clergyman and his wife, and in the third jinrikisha there was a Japanese convert to Christianity, a well-known Bible teacher of those days, and with him an eminent American missionary and educationalist—E. Warren Clark by name.

This unusual funeral procession—unusual because of the presence of three foreigners behind a Japanese hearse—attracted much attention as it moved down Tori, which was then the main street of Tokyo, towards Kirishitan zaka, or Christian Slope, near Shinagawa, so named from the martyrdom of a party of Christians who were burned there at the stake more than two centuries before.

(The Ginza had not been created at the time of the little funeral procession. Tori was then the main street and ran from Nihonbashi to the railway terminus at Shinagawa. The first railway in Japan, linking Yokohama to Tokyo was completed in 1872 as far as Shinagawa, whence travellers took jinrikisha or trudged the remaining two miles to the centre of the city.)

The funeral procession was bound for a Buddhist temple near Christian Slope, a distance of about two and a half miles over an abominable road that caused the hearse to rattle and shake to such a degree that Clark feared both the vehicle and the coffin might fall apart.

The procession moved along at a slow pace. Despite the impatient appeals of the foreigners to quicken the speed, the bearers of the hearse and the jinrikisha men would not hurry. It was dark when it arrived at the main gate of the cemetery. Not unlikely this had been planned by the Japanese in advance because, in accordance with ancient customs, burials were often performed at nighttime. Some people preferred the nighttime for burials, and some even after midnight at the hour of the ox when "even the grass is asleep." The lamps and lanterns used in present-day funerals are a relic of the old nighttime burial services.

The journey had taken much longer than the foreign mourners had expected. The hearse halted in the pitch darkness just inside the main gate. A heavy mist had settled over the place. Clark alighted from his jinrikisha and fumbled his way through the gravestones in search of the grave which earlier that day he had ordered to be dug. Finally he stumbled upon the square hole. (It was not until a much later date, when the population of Japan had greatly increased, that cremation was, as a matter of necessity, generally adopted throughout Japan.)

When Clark returned to the gate he found the foreign clergyman, who was in the initial stages of consumption, sheltering in a nearby hut. The clergyman was in physical distress and suffering from the cold and dampness of the place. The coffin, however, had disappeared. Clark thereupon prevailed upon the Japanese Bible teacher to escort the clergyman and his wife home, and, after bidding them good night, he set out in search of the missing coffin.

When he drew near the main temple, which he noticed was dimly illuminated within, he could hear a service being conducted inside. Out of curiosity he stepped up to the entrance and for a minute or so he stood peering into the interior. The place was dimly lighted by several candles arranged in front of the altar. Two finely robed priests were intoning the Buddhist sutras, striking every now and again the wooden gongs in front of them.

He gazed at the gilded Buddha sitting upon the golden leaves of the lotus in contemplation of all before him. He saw the incense smoke curling upwards from the great bronze brazier and he sensed that a funeral service was in progress. Finally he was able to make out among the shadows the shape of a square coffin, resting upon the top of which, he could see a wooden tablet bearing in large Japanese characters the name of the deceased. He could not read the name but suddenly a suspicion awoke within him that all was not well. He stole up alongside the priest and then he recognised the missing coffin. On the top was the same bunch of flowers that he had gathered earlier in the day.

Knowing that the corpse within the coffin was clutching in his hand a Christian Testament, Clark's first impulse was to stop the service, but then he noted that the two Japanese women kneeling on the floor were seemingly deriving comfort from the ceremony. He therefore withdrew into the shadows and waited for the service to end. He saw the priest rise and move out of the temple still chanting the prayers. He saw the two tattered old men lift up the coffin. The funeral procession to the newly-dug grave was resumed in the flickering light of several torches and a lantern. He followed the procession. He stopped when the procession moved about in circles several times in order to confuse any evilly-disposed spirits which might have been following or hovering near. He saw the coffin lowered into the grave, the last prayer said, and the onlookers depart after each had thrown into the grave a twig of the sacred sakaki tree, a last gift to the dead. The two tattered old men departed grumbling at the cold.

Clark scattered a handful of soil on the top of the coffin, whilst he also said a prayer:

"... earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."

He saw the gravedigger begin to strike the top of the coffin with his spade and he asked what he was doing. He learned that it was the custom to break in the head of the coffin so that the earth might fill up the inside. He told the gravedigger that he might on this occasion dispense with that custom and he waited until the grave was filled in.

Later he caused a stone cross to be erected over the grave on which were inscribed two English words—SAM PATCH.

A hundred and more years ago the sea voyage from Osaka to Yedo sometimes took several months because the junks had to creep along the coast frequently putting into ports of refuge from storms and high seas. Often they were blown ashore or driven out into the Pacific never to return. One such junk was blown far out to sea by an off-shore gale and had then drifted helpless for fifty days before being sighted by the American brig "Auckland." The crew of seventeen rescued from the junk were carried to San Francisco, and thereafter at least three of them made history. In this article we are interested in only one of the three. His name was Sentaro.

On arrival in San Francisco most of them were transferred to a revenue cutter where they remained for twelve months, until an opportunity arose of transporting them on a U.S. sloop-of-war to China, whence it was hoped they could be repatriated to their homeland. Later they were moved to the U.S.S. "Susquehanna." When that vessel joined Commodore Perry's squadron in preparation for the task of forcing Japan to open her doors, all with one exception begged to be discharged in China. They feared that if they were returned to Japan they would be beheaded—that or worse was often the punishment for Japanese who left their homeland, even for castaways who left through no fault of their own. The exception, who was content to remain on board the "Susquehanna," was Sentaro. He had signed on as a regular member of the crew. He was a friendly type with a droll sense of humour. He soon became a favourite with his shipmates. Finding his Japanese name too awkward they nicknamed him Sam Patch, a sobriquet which so delighted him that thenceforward he abandoned his Japanese name.

Such, according to at least one authority was the origin of his nickname, but more than likely it was bestowed upon him at a much earlier date, possibly when rescued and put aboard the brig "Auckland"—a sea-waif in clothes of threads and patches.

Upon arriving in Japan in Perry's squadron he had prepared a letter which he wished to have forwarded to his relatives. In order that the circumstances of the letter could be explained, he was ordered to appear for presentation to the Japanese officials, whereupon on coming into their presence he prostrated himself on the deck and remained there awe-stricken, with his head bowed low. The American deck-officer sternly ordered him to rise and reminded him that as a crew member of an American man-of-war he had nothing to fear, but even so Sam Patch was still such an object of trembling servility that he was soon dismissed from their presence.

Later the Governor of Uraga requested that Sam should be allowed to remain in Japan. Sam was again called to appear and was told that he was free to leave the ship subject to the Japanese governor giving a solemn assurance that no punishment whatever would be meted out to him. Once again Sam went down on his knees before the Japanese officials and again he was ordered by the American naval officers to get up. He begged to be allowed to remain on board, so convinced was he that his life would be forfeited if he went ashore. He therefore continued in the service of the U. S. Navy.

One of the marines on board, Jonathan Goble by name, a religious type of man, had befriended him, and when the squadron subsequently returned to America, Goble left the navy and took Sam Patch to his home in New York. This was the same Goble who later returned to Japan as a missionary of the Baptist Free Missionary Society, and subsequently invented the jinrikisha. Sam was converted to the Christian faith, and thereafter he seemed to have a simple trust in Christ which remained with him to the last.

And so it was that while young men in Japan were risking their lives, and some losing their lives, in attempts to smuggle themselves out of Japan in order to study the ways of the Western world, Sam Patch had fallen heir to all the opportunities which they were seeking. He was befriended by many, but he lacked brains and ambition to such a degree that he just drifted along, a droll and likable fellow. Eventually missionary friends sent him back to Japan, where he married and after many vicissitudes he became chief cook to E. Warren Clark, the American missionary and educationalist. Although a sore trial at times, he did in fact in that state accomplish his greatest achievement in life—the making of rice cakes for which he became locally famous.

In course of time Sam Patch became ill from beriberi a dreaded disease in Japan in those days before the principles of vitamin deficiency were known. When his end was near the lovable but timid Sam, was as timid in death as on the deck of Admiral Perry's flagship when he fell upon his knees before the Japanese governor of Uraga.

In accordance with custom his body after death was placed in a square coffin with head bowed and knees doubled up and his limbs crossed in front, as in a position of birth, thereby enabling the body to be fitted into what would appear to be an incredibly small space. It is not known whether the body of Sam Patch was fitted into the coffin whilst still supple and before rigor mortis had set in, or whether, as was more often the case, the ligaments under the big toes and knees had first to be cut. We hope not, for the common belief in those days was that the cutting of the ligaments spoiled the dreams about the Land of Bliss, dreams which we would wish were not denied to Sam Patch.

As customary the coffin lid was secured in position with nails driven in by a stone rather than a hammer, for it was the common fear then that the spirits of the dead might cling to the hammer and cause injury to those who used it afterwards.

It was Sam Patch's wife who had contrived to give him the benefits of a Buddhist funeral service, as has been told at the beginning of this article. Nevertheless before the coffin lid had been nailed down it was she also who had placed in his hands his Christian Testament, that it might accompany him into the Unknown.