"Thus the stoku of the Choshu Kompeni is ten thousand sheru. Next, the daimyo, on behalf of the kompeni, offers all or any part or number of sheru to anyone with money. For their money the man or woman get this piece of paper saying how many sharu of the Choshu Kompeni he has bought. This person then owns that part of the kompeni and therefore the same proportion of its wealth. The money he and others pay into the kompeni then becomes its kaipit'r, I think this Mukfey gai-jin said, the money needed to run and improve the wealth of the kompeni to pay stipends, or reclaim land or buy arms, or seeds, or improve fishing boats, to pay whatever is necessary to increase and make Choshu prosper, to make the value of the Choshu Kompeni higher.
"Mukfey explained that... He said in any market, Shoya, prices change, in famine times often daily, no? It's the same in this daily stoku markit with hundreds of different kompeni, buyers and sellers. If the Choshu harvest is huge, the value of each part of the Choshu Kompeni will be high, if famine, low.
The value of each sheru varies also. Understand?"
"I think so," the shoya said slowly, understanding very well indeed, covertly afire with delight and questions.
"Good." Hiraga was tired but intrigued by these new ideas though at times lost in their maze. He had never, ever, bargained in a market, or an Inn, just paid what was asked, when asked, never in his life argued about the cost of anything or the amount of a bill--except since he became ronin.
Bills were always sent to whoever received his stipend, if you were samurai. If unmarried, normally to your mother. Buying and handling money was the job of women, never of men.
You ate what she--mother, aunt, grandmother, sister or wife--bought from your stipend, you clothed or armed yourself in the same way. With no stipend you starved, you and your family, or you became ronin, or voluntarily had to give up your samurai status and become a farmer, laborer, or far worse, a merchant. "Shoya," he said, frowning. "Prices vary in a food or fish market. But who decides the price?"
The guild of fishermen or farmers, the shoya could have said, or more likely the merchants who really own the produce having lent them the money to buy nets or seeds. But he was much too cautious, most of his energy spent trying to remain calm in the face of so much priceless information, however incomplete. "If there are lots of fish, they are cheaper than when there are few. It depends on the catch, or the harvest."
Hiraga nodded. Obviously the shoya was being devious, hiding the truth or twisting it. But that is only normal for merchants and moneylenders, he thought, suddenly deciding to keep any meeting between Mukfey and this man in reserve, and also to keep for later the last piece of kompeni lore that, for some reason he could not fathom, intrigued him more than the rest: that if you were the one who formed the kompeni, you decided how many stoku you reserved for yourself, without payment, and if the number amounted to fifty-one or more out of every hundred, you retained power over the kompeni. But why...
His head almost burst with sudden understanding: With no outlay you became the kompeni Shogun, the bigger the kompeni the bigger the Shogun... with no outlay!
When sonno-joi is fact, he thought weakly, we--the samurai council--we will recommend to the Emperor that only our council may form kompeni, then, at long last, we control all the parasites, the merchants and moneylenders!
"Otami-sama," the shoya was saying, not having noticed any change in Hiraga, his own mind agog with the marvelous information he had gleaned, "My overlords will be most grateful and so am I.
When we have managed to sift all your brilliant thoughts and ideas, perhaps I could have an opportunity to ask a few insignificant questions?"
"Certainly," Hiraga said, exultant with the rosy future. The more questions the better--they will force me to understand first. "Perhaps when you hear more about Ogama and Yoshi, or the shishi, or that woman.
Shuriken you said?"
"I will do my best," the shoya answered, knowing a deal had been struck. Then his mind took him back to a missing, essential piece of the puzzle. "Please, may I ask, what is this kompeni. What is it, what does it look like?"
"I don't know," Hiraga said, equally perplexed.
"Good of you to be punctual, Mr. Struan,"
Admiral Ketterer said gruffly, "not normal for, er, traders." He was going to say "tradesmen" but decided there was plenty of time to bring him to deliver the broadside. "Take a seat. Sherry?"
"Some dry sack, thank you, Admiral."
The orderly poured a glass, replenished the Admiral's port and left. They lifted their glasses, no love lost between either of them. The desk was clear of papers, except for an official document, an opened envelope and a letter in his mother's writing. "What can I do for you?"
Malcolm asked.
"You know that some of my sailors were killed by Chinese pirates, firing shore-based British cannon during our Mirs Bay engagement. British cannon."
"I've read the news reports, but I don't know for certain if they were British manufacture."
"I do. Made sure myself." Sourly the Admiral picked up the document. "The Governor's initial investigation suggests the probable culprits were either Struan's or Brock's."
Malcolm looked back at the older, florid-faced man, unafraid. "He can suggest what he likes, Admiral Ketterer, but any formal accusation had better be backed by proof or we would be very upset, and the Brocks apoplectic. I know of no such deal and in any event sale of armaments are not forbidden by Parliament. Does Norbert Greyforth?"
Jamie had warned him that Greyforth had also been summoned by the Admiral at 10:30, but had not appeared until 11:00 A.m. and that meeting had lasted barely three minutes.
Ketterer's neck reddened, remembering Greyforth's inflammatory response. "No.
That, that impertinent fellow declined to discuss the matter. Do you?"
"I don't know what you want to discuss, Admiral."
"The matter of the importation and selling of cannon and armaments to the natives here. And warships. And opium."
Malcolm said carefully, "Struan's are China traders and we trade according to British law. None of those articles are forbidden by law."
"Opium soon will be," the Admiral snapped.
"When it is, then that trade ceases."
"It's against Chinese law now, and native law here!"
"Struan's are not, I repeat not trading in opium here, even though it is not, I repeat not, against British law."
"But you do admit the trade's pernicious and immoral."
"Yes, but at the moment approved by Her Majesty's Government and unfortunately the only commodity we can barter for China's tea, from which Parliament derives huge taxes."
"I'm well aware of the China problem. I would like you and your company to anticipate the law now by agreeing voluntarily never to import opium into Japan."
"We're not trading in it here."
"Good. If I find any ships carrying opium I intend to confiscate the cargo and the ship."
"I'd say you do so at your legal peril, Admiral. Has Sir William agreed or approved your intention?"
"Not yet. I would like you and the other trades-- other traders to do so willingly. The same with breech-loading rifles, cartridges, cannon and warships." "Did Greyforth agree to such an astonishing proposal?"
The neck went crimson. "No."
Malcolm thought a moment. He and Jamie had reasoned in advance that this was what the Admiral had in mind. Apart from his mother's letter. "We have a meeting with Sir William in a few days," he said. "I'd be honored if you'd attend as my personal guest. All traders would hear you out."
"My views are already well known. You traders of all people should know which side of your bread is buttered, that without the fleet to protect you and your trade routes, you're helpless. If you supply natives with cannon you threaten the Royal Navy, you'll be helping to sink your own ships, murder your own countrymen and yourselves to boot!"
"If you take the example of India or any of the oth--"
"My whole point, Mr. Struan!" the Admiral slammed at him. "Without natives having our armaments the Mutiny would never have happened, revolts everywhere would be more quickly contained, savages all over the world could be more easily and properly educated, useful trade would be conducted in peace and world order would flourish in the benevolence of the Pax Britannica. And miserable, fornicating pirates would not have the means to fire on my flagship by God! And without the Royal Navy ruling the seas, by God, there's no Pax Britannica, no British Empire, no trade and we'll be back in the Dark Ages!"
"Confidentially you're quite right, Admiral,"