1636: Seas of Fortune (38 page)

“Weapons?” asked Yoritaki.

“None that I can see. Of course, they could club us with those paddles.”

Yoritaki snorted. Kinzo had a pivot gun trained on the canoe. He could sink it with a single shot, if need be. And if the paddlers tried to board, they would wish they hadn’t. Of course, no one knew what weapons the rest of the villagers might have.

The canoe pulled up alongside the
Ieyasu Maru
, and the Dancing Man danced once again. There was a platform, apparently for this purpose, on the front of the canoe.

“Tokubei, you may invite him on board, if you think it advisable.” said Haruno. It was part of the delicate dance of command aboard the
Ieyasu Maru
; Haruno was responsible for the ship, but Tokubei was in charge of all negotiations with natives, and Yoritaka would take charge if there were any hand-to-hand combat, on deck or on land.

* * *

Tokubei checked his short sword, the
wakizashi
, to make sure that it was in place, and would neither get in his way while walking nor be too difficult to draw if he needed it. In Japan, he was considered a commoner, and as such would only be allowed to carry a sword when traveling, and then only after obtaining a license from the authorities. But Date Masamune had told him that once Japan had disappeared below the horizon, the Sword Edict of Hideyoshi did not apply.

Which meant that once again, at least in New Nippon, commoners could be part-time warriors, and samurai could be part-time farmers.

Not that Tokubei was all that confident about his ability to use the sword. He was more apt to rely on the brace of handguns he was carrying. He would, if possible, leave swordsmanship to the samurai on board.

Of course, having samurai along was something of a mixed blessing. He had great faith in their fighting ability. What he wasn’t sure about was whether they would follow the orders of a commoner as to whether or not to fight . . . despite Date Masamune’s instructions that Tokubei, given his breadth of exposures to foreign cultures, would be in charge of negotiations.

“Let down a rope ladder, but be prepared to haul it up again quickly if I say so.” The rope ladder went down, and Tokubei pointed to the Dancing Man and then held up a single finger.

The canoe edged closer to the ship, and Dancing Man grabbed hold of the ladder. He pulled himself agilely onto the first rung, and quickly ascended.

Tokubei addressed him in Japanese, Chinese, Dutch, Portuguese and several other Asian languages. The Indian responded with an equal lack of intelligibility.

Tokubei noticed that a seagull had landed on deck. “Someone, give me an arquebus.” A sailor handed him one. Tokubei loaded the gun, smiled at the Indian, and fired at the bird.
Crack!
It fell over, dead. The Indian froze, obviously terrified. Tokubei carefully set down the gun behind him, and reached into a pouch. He pulled out a necklace of glass beads, put it on for a moment, then took it off and set it down on the deck. Then Tokubei backed away, and motioned toward the beads.

Ever so slowly, the Indian walked forward, then stooped to pick up the beads, all the while watching Tokubei. Then he backed up himself, until he felt the rail behind him, and stopped. He looked over the trinket, smiled, and put the necklace around his own neck. Then he took off his cloak and tossed it in Tokubei’s direction.

Tokubei put it on. As he did so, Yoritaki swore.

Tokubei looked at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Look what the chief’s wearing.” Tokubei realized, all at once, what Yoritaka was reacting to. The Indian’s ornaments included what appeared to be pierced copper discs, strung on a string of some kind. And there was something oddly familiar about them . . .

“Yoritaka, be ready to grab him on my say-so, or if he tries to leave.”

Tokubei pulled out a copper coin from his own pouch, and held it out for the chief. The chief came closer, and Tokubei handed it to him. As he did so, Tokubei got a better look at the chief’s discs. They were one-
mon
coins; Tokubei could see the
kanji
. They had holes so they could be strung together.

“Now,” he said quietly, so as not to warn the chief. Yoritaka acted immediately, putting the chief into an immobilizing hold. Another samurai drew his katana
,
and held it speculatively, in front of the chief’s throat. The chief glanced down, at the sword’s glistening edge, and then back at Tokubei.

Tokubei grabbed the coin necklace and gave it a shake. He pointed at the village, and made a beckoning gesture. He pantomimed climbing a rope ladder. Then he folded his arms across his chest, and waited.

The chief tried to say something, realized it was futile, then simply bowed his head and waited.

“Well?” asked Yoritaki.

Tokubei took a deep breadth. “We’ll have to give him a chance to tell his men to free our people.”

Yoritaki snorted. “Hopefully he’ll say that, and not, ‘Kill the intruders! Turn the waters red with their blood!’”

“Escort him to the side, but don’t give him a chance to escape. Try not to be obvious about him being held hostage, it could complicate matters in the long-term.”

“Miracles are my specialty,” Yoritaki replied. He called for assistance, and the samurai bound the chief’s hands, behind his back, and trussed his feet as well. For good measure, they tied a long line between the feet and the mast, as a leash. Yoritaki and one of the sailors then inched the hobbled Indian forward, as a samurai with the drawn sword came behind, the point nuzzling the chief’s back.

The chief spoke, and Tokubei didn’t need to wait long to have a response. One of the rowers near the rear of the canoe rose, and worked his way forward. The other rowers didn’t make this easy for him; clearly, they suspected that the chief was acting under duress.

He reached the rope ladder, and called out, “
domo arigato gozaimasu
.” Japanese for, “I am really, really grateful.” He reached the deck, and prostrated himself before a bemused Tokubei.

“Rise,” Tokubei commanded. “What’s your name, and how many other Nihonjin
are in this village?”

“I am Heishiro, and there are five more of us. My two sons, and three sailors.”

“You speak the native language?”

“
Kwak’wala
. Yes, of course; I’ve been here almost ten years. And it wasn’t as though the Kwakwaka’wakw were going to learn the language of a slave.”

“How did they treat you?”

Heishiro shrugged. “They rarely beat their slaves. But they don’t feed us well, we can’t earn our freedom by working, and we live in the most exposed parts of the village, where raiders would come first.”

“Tell the chief that he is our hostage, but we will free him after he has released to us, unharmed, the other five Nihonjin.” Heishiro translated this. The chief scowled.

“Your cargo? Was it valuable?”

“Not especially.”

“Say that we appreciate them taking care of you and in return they may keep the cargo that they already have.”

“What about us? Shouldn’t it go back to us?”

“You can stay here, and make your own bargain, if you wish. No? Then repeat my words. And tell him they are to be brought over in a single small canoe, without any armed men. And his other canoes had best stay out of the water.”

The chief’s scowl relaxed fractionally. He shouted orders down to his men, and the ceremonial canoe returned to the village. Perhaps an hour later, the Japanese paddled out in a small canoe, with just two of the Kwakwaka’wakw accompanying them.

The Japanese drifters came aboard, one by one, and the chief’s bonds were struck off. The chief rubbed his arms and legs, to work the circulation back into them, and in the meantime Tokubei dropped some presents in front of him.

“Tell him these are for him.” said Tokubei. And then he dropped the shot seagull carcass beside them. “And tell him that this bird is a reminder that we are beloved of the sky god, who gives us thunder to wield against our enemies.”

Heishiro spoke again to the chief, then addressed Tokubei. “I told him that you were the People of Tseiqami, the Thunderbird. Its wings cause thunder, and the flash of its eyes are the lightning. I said that you build ships—‘floating houses’—with its help; there are legends in which it carries big cedars for heroes who are building a house.”

The chief descended the rope ladder and got into the canoe. It headed backed to the village, his men paddling furiously.

“He looked impressed,” said Tokubei. “Keep it up, and you’ll be getting some presents yourself.”

Heishiro bowed slightly. “I hope it helps, but—” He stared down at his feet.

“But what?”

“To the Kwakwaka’wakw nobility, ‘face’ is very important. By taking him hostage, you offered him an unforgiveable insult.”

Tokubei’s skin reddened slightly. “What about the insult he offered me by enslaving my countrymen?”

“He will see only the injury to himself. He will work himself up into a rage, then come after you.”

“Hmm . . . Did you hear that, Captain?”

“I did indeed,” said Haruno, who was standing nearby. “Do the Kwakwaka’wakw know where Nippon is?”

“Far away, in the direction of the setting sun, I told them long ago.”

“Then let’s pretend to be heading straight back home,” Haruno decided. He gave orders to bring the ship about. The
Ieyasu Maru
couldn’t sail close enough to the wind to head directly west, but it could manage a southwest course. It headed out to sea, its prow knifing through the swells, and then, as soon as the land was out of sight, it cut southeastward.

“Wish this wind were stronger,” said Tokubei.

“Better than no wind at all,” said Haruno. “Wouldn’t want those big war canoes to be able to catch up with us. Especially at night.”

But daylight offered its own problems. If the
Kwakwaka’wakw canoes followed they would be able to see the tall masts of the
Ieyasu Maru
, from perhaps six miles off—farther, at any rate, than the
Ieyasu Maru
’s lookouts could see them. And in summer, sunset would come late in these northern parts.

About seven miles out, Haruno ordered a sharp turn to port, bringing them to an east-southeast heading. The lookouts thought that there might be a bay in that direction. Haruno also had the upper sails furled; the ship would catch less wind, but since they were heading almost directly to leeward their speed wouldn’t be reduced, and with the upper masts naked, they would be quite a bit harder to see. Fortuitously, the sky was overcast, so they wouldn’t be strongly silhouetted.

After sailing another five or six miles, the
Ieyasu Maru
slipped into San Josef Bay. It was now hidden from pursuit by a headland—provided, of course, that the canoes had not been able to spot it after the course change. If they did, then the hills that were now shielding it would also break up the wind, making it more difficult for the
Ieyasu Maru
to sail away again.

* * *

The first thing the chief had done upon reaching the beach was to ask a nearby commoner for a weapon. With it, he immediately killed the two slave paddlers who had taken him back from the
Ieyasu Maru
, and thus had seen his embarrassment close-up.

He told the now trembling commoner who had loaned him the weapon to keep an eye on the
Ieyasu Maru
, then stormed into his house, and remained there for a time. When he emerged, he was wearing war paint.

It took time, of course, for him to assemble and harangue his tribesmen, and then for them to prepare for war. By that point, the
Ieyasu Maru
had been several hours gone. However, the watcher was able to tell the war party what course it had taken.

Speaking eagerly of the glory and booty they would soon enjoy, the warriors pushed the war canoes into the water, hopped in, and started rowing. They were the Nakomgilisala of the Kwakwaka’wakw, who raided as far south as California.

How much farther away could this island of Nippon be?

* * *

Coal torches burned as the sentries on the
Ieyasu Maru
kept watch for a night attack.

Heishiro had been brought to the captain’s cabin.

“So, please tell me your story,” said Haruno. “I don’t want to get it secondhand from Tokubei.” He gave Tokubei an apologetic smile, so he wouldn’t be offended.

“My name is Heishiro. Our ship was
Yahiko Maru
, a
sengoku-bune
.” That meant a ship that could carry a thousand
koku
of rice, about 150 tons in European measurement. “I had on board my wife and two children, and a dozen sailors.

“We began at Osaka with a cargo of rice, and, as we went along the coast, we sold off rice and took on other cargos. Fortunately, we still had a lot of rice, seaweed, and other food when the storm came upon us, off Cape Shiono.”

“When was that?”

“In the month of falling frost, the first year of Kan’ei.” November 1624, by Western reckoning.

“When we saw the storm clouds, we tried to make for shore, but we couldn’t find an anchorage, or even a safe place to beach the ship. The winds rose, and the waves tossed us about, and it became too dangerous to remain near the coast. So we returned to the open sea, and reduced sail, but even there the storm was too much for us. A great wave overtook us, and we grabbed hold of whatever we could, lest we be washed overboard. We heard a terrible snapping sound, and, when we could see again, our
hanaita
was gone.” The
hanaita
was the rudder, a giant nine feet by twelve on a
sengoku-bune
.

“The wind came across our beam and pushed against our sail, heeling us over, more and more, until we were sure that we were about to capsize. Then it lessened for a moment, and we all gave thanks to the buddhas and kamis.

“But we gave thanks too soon. Another squall line advanced toward us, like charging cavalry. The winds howled louder as it approached, and we knew what we had to do. In a frenzy, we cut down the mast.

“After that, we were at the mercy of Susanoo, the Bringer of Storms. When the sky cleared, we were far out at sea. Where, we did not know. We prayed to the buddhas for deliverance. We bailed out the hold and rationed out the food.”