of a laborers' camp amidst the green fields in the distance and approached this site carefully. He hid himself for about half an hour until he saw a woman come out of the house and he was certain that his countrymen dwelled here. It was near noon and men were out to work. He came out of hiding after making sure that no one was approaching the camp. He knocked at the door of the kitchen where the woman was working. She was taken aback at his strange appearance, but on finding out the story she hurriedly prepared for him an impromptu meal of canned salmon and cold rice. It was then that Okawa pulled out his bundle of precious pancakes. They were as hard as rocks and he tried to eat one of them but try as he might, he could not swallow it.
So, of the three fugitives, one got safely to Niuli Kohala and was given work on the plantation without any questions being asked. Perhaps because of the distance and the fact that they belonged to altogether different political districts there was no close cooperation between the Hamakua and Kohala plantations. He wrote to his friends at Waipunalei about what he found at this new place where the laborer's lot was much easier but the latter had already resigned themselves to their fate and did not relish going through the same grueling experience again. Okawa worked here for about a year and then went out to Honolulu.
At the expiration of the labor contract, a certificate of such fulfillment was given the laborers. These graduates were called "non shipped men" in contrast to "shipped men" for contract laborers. Everybody looked forward to the day when he would be graduated from the lowly status.
In later days when his son grew up, acquired a college education, and sent him a photograph of himself in cap and gown and holding a real sheepskin diploma, Torao wept and in some of his rare moments of sentimental exposé related that there had been only two really happy moments in his life. The first was the time when he received this certificate releasing him from bondage and the second was when his son received a degree from a reputable institution of learning. The first was an emergence of his sunken self to that of a normal free being; the second was the advancement of his son, who was in a sense a continuation and fulfillment of his ideals and frustrated hopes in life into the group of the elite.
Because his attempt to escape made him a marked man, he had to watch his step very closely. His industry was genuine. He not only worked as best as he could, he was thrifty. He did not smoke and for the duration of his contract he cut out his drinking altogether. Therefore at the end of the three years he was in possession of about one hundred and fifty dollars. As soon as he became "non shipped man" his wages became eighteen dollars per month, and he continued to work with the animals, which were mostly imported Oregon mules.
The treatment of free men was not as harsh as in contract days and so he no longer wanted to move away although he was at liberty to do so if he so desired. The thing he had most in mind then was to find a mate. Therefore he wrote to his father that he wished to marry and asked him to find a suitable bride, preferably from among the belles of the village he had known, if they were still available. In three years' time, naturally, many had settled down to raise families, but there were a few still in circulation. His father sent him a list of such young women plus a few from neighboring towns and villages. Among these he came across the name of Chizu Omura and he lingered long over the image and reminiscences resurrected by her name.
He had met her many times when he used to go to Amizu to his mother's home. Chizu lived on the way thither and as her brother was in his class at school, he spent many an afternoon at her home. Her family had once been prosperous farmers and owned the choicest rice-fields near the spring of water which irrigated the villagers' fields. Naturally, proximity to this source of irrigation water enhanced the value of the land.
Her eldest brother was a good fellow but not extra bright, and even before he became of age was led astray by the dandies of the village and tasted the cheap pleasures of the night life at teahouses and could not forget the caresses of the painted women of these establishments. His friends were playing him for a sucker, catered to his whims, and encouraged his wild spendings. His father had died when he was still a boy and now being of age he was master of his house. His mother was powerless to prevent his squandering.
Finally it came to pass that a general meeting of relatives had to be called to discuss and remedy the situation, but at this stage there was left only a few of the choice lands that had been handed down from the ancestors. Most of the rice patches had been signed off to the moneylenders at ridiculous prices. Their intervention was too late. The damage was already done. They only retained the family residence and half an acre of rice land which was not enough to feed the family of four. The mother was sickly and her vision was failing. The second brother was dependable but was in service with the army as a conscript. For this reason, Chizu had not married and remained at home to look after her disappointed mother. Being the last child and an only girl, she had been babied and used to sleep with her mother until she was fourteen. But in those days of early marriages twenty-two was considered very old for a bride and although she did not mind it, even her mother became concerned and asked friends to be on the lookout for a suitable match for her daughter.
Then out of a clear sky a proposition came to the family. Torao Murayama had asked for her hand. Would the family consider it? The aged mother did not give it a thought. "Hawaii? How can Chizu go to such a far-off corner of the world! When my deathbed comes Chizu must stay nearby to give me the last cup of water. Chizu herself would hardly give it a thought. I am sure of this."
"But, mother, you must not be so hasty. You are not the one who is going to get married. Let us hear what Chizu has to say. The Murayama family is a reputable family and with their connection with Amizu, this match is not one to be just passed off casually."
To their profound surprise, Chizu's answer was in the affirmative and she would even chance the four thousand miles of perilous voyage if it was to go to the side of Torao-san. Enough had been written home by the different emigrants to Hawaii to give the villagers some definite picture of the far-off islands. Besides, there were some men who had returned from overseas with their pockets lined with hard-earned cash. The picture these men painted did not seem wholly gloomy and fearsome. In her make-up there was an adventuresome strain and a hard common horse-sense that was lacking in her elder brother who squandered the family fortune. Neighboring old women used to say, "Chizu has inherited all the brains of the family. It is a pity that she was not born a boy."
Now that such a proposition had come from Torao she recalled all she could remember of him and was surprised to discover that she did have some secret longing for him. It was a dormant sentiment and lay deep, undetected even by herself. Simply, there had been no occasion to make her realize her submerged sentiment. A triggering was necessary for the emergence of this feeling.
There was a day when she was about fifteen when her second brother urged her to go shellfish gathering on the shore off the Sumiyoshi Hill. At the fishing village of Kasaiwa there was a married aunt and they could go there and spend the day on the sandy beach. It was a warm day in late summer or early autumn and she was glad to get away from home. In this party there were Torao and his sister Osada. The entire morning they went wading into shallow pools left by the ebbing tide, where fish swam and crabs darted away. With rakes they went back and forth on the sandy surface of the exposed bay bottom. The boys pulled on the huge heavy rakes and the girls followed in the wake of this receding implement and gathered the shrimps and crabs that were turned up from their buried recesses. Then they dug into the soft sandy loam and obtained many clams that seemed to be abundant in that particular season. At noon they repaired to their aunt's home and had their fun cooking what they had caught. It was a delightful day and she recalled it with fond remembrance.
When the negotiation for the marriage was finally arranged, two hundred yen was forwarded by the Murayama family so that she might arrange and prepare for the coming marriage. This custom of presenting the bride with money was called "sending the yuino kin." With this money presentation, there was usually a small party. There was a return from the bride's family to the groom's, again usually a fraction of the yuino. This amount was only nominal, but this gesture formally concluded the engagement.
Knowing the reduced circumstances of the family, Sadaki told them that she might remain with her mother to perform her share of filial piety as long as she was in Japan and need not come to live with them as the custom decreed for brides. She could stay with her mother