"He's a dead man, that's all the trial he'll get."
"If he's guilty that's all he deserves." He had held on to his temper for Tyrer had done a good job today and he had noticed the growing friendship between the two of them that had worked to his advantage: "Phillip I know he's been tremendously valuable but he has to be turned over to them--after I've seen him. I warned him in the beginning that he would have to go if they asked for him. Now forget Nakama and make sure you learn all you can about Babcott's patient. With any luck it'll be the tairo."
He led the way to the forecourt where Yoshi was mounting. Babcott waited beside a horse Pallidar had lent him, another for Tyrer. The honor guard was on alert surrounding them. At Yoshi's order the porters stood away from their poles with the bundles attached, then he beckoned Tyrer who listened, bowed and came back.
"He said you can, er, count the money at your leisure, Sir William, please give him a receipt tomorrow. That man," Tyrer pointed at Abeh, "will come for Nakama tomorrow."
"Thank him and say it will be done as he wishes."
Tyrer obeyed. Yoshi waved Abeh forward.
"Ikimasho!" They trotted off, the porters and groom trailing.
"You all set, George?"' "Yes, thanks, Sir William."
"Off you go then. Phillip, you did well today, a few more conferences like this and I will recommend you be upgraded to full interpreter."
"Thank you, sir. May I be present when you see Nakama?"' He had almost lost his temper. "How the devil can that happen when you're going to Yedo with George. Use your brains! George, give him an emetic, the poor lad's witless!"
Babcott said, "I don't really need Phillip. I thought it might be important for him to meet this "unnamed person."
"You were quite right, this meeting could be very important--Nakama, or Hiraga, whatever his name, isn't. Phillip, has that got through to you yet?"' "Yes sir, sorry sir."
Babcott leaned closer. "It might be a good idea not to hand over Nakama until we get back, just in case."
Sir William had looked up at him, this thought jumping the medical consultation to a possible new level. "You mean they might try to keep you? As a hostage? Both of you?"' Babcott shrugged. "Nakama's important to him. No harm in being wise, eh?"' Sir William frowned. "I'll expect you back tomorrow." He had waited until they were out of sight and then went back to the conference room.
At once the Admiral exploded, "Never heard so much poppycock in my life! Build them a navy? Have you taken leave of your senses?"' "That's not up to us, my dear Admiral," he had said calmly, "that would be up to Parliament."
"Or much more likely Emperor Napoleon," Seratard interrupted sharply.
"I doubt that, my dear sir," Ketterer said, his face and neck puce. "Foreign naval matters are the prime concern of the Royal Navy and any French interference in areas of British influence will be dealt with right smartly."
"Quite right," Sir William said loudly, overriding both of them as Seratard's face matched the Admiral's and he volubly began to disagree. "In any event it would be a political decision. For London and Paris."
"Political be damned," the Admiral said, jowls shaking with rage. "A dozen of our best warships in the hands of those scallywags when you see what they can do with a couple of swords? I'm totally opposed!"
"So am I," Sir William said smoothly, "totally, and will so recommend."
"What?"' "I totally agree with you. Such a major decision is entirely up to the Admiralty, assisted by the Foreign Office. Paris likewise. Not a thing we can do but report to our superiors. You should do likewise. Thank God Japanese authorities at long last approve our right to proceed against guilty parties ourselves. Don't you agree, Admiral?"' "If you're talking about your proposed, ill-advised punitive strike, here, there or anywhere, it's not yet approved by the Admiralty so it's not approved by me. I suggest we go back aboard Pearl before the rain starts..."
Sir William sighed and looked out of a wardroom porthole. The rain had stopped temporarily, the sea was still leaden but his spirit wasn't. He had the indemnity money, there was no immediate need now to flatten Yedo and through this Yoshi we'll help modernize Japan, he thought.
We'll make a happy place for it in the family of nations, happy for them as well as us.
Far better we do it and instill British virtues than the French implant French ones, though their wines and attitudes to food and fornication are far superior to ours.
Yes. Except in fornication the Japanese will benefit. In that their attitude is without doubt superior. Pity we can't import that into our society but the Queen would never stand for it.
Dreadful shame, but that's life. We'll just have to bless our luck to be living here--once we've civilized them. "Henri, let's get some air."
He was glad to be back on deck. The wind was sea salt heavy, sharp and wholesome, the frigate under sail now, making way nicely.
Marlowe was on the bridge--officers and men on deck or in the shrouds achingly aware of the Admiral who sat in the bridge sea chair, sourly hunched into his greatcoat. "For God's sake, Marlowe, take her closer to the wind."
"Aye aye, sir."
Sir William was not an expert but that seemed to be a pedantic and unnecessary order. Bloody man! Still, can't blame him for wanting confirming orders, it's his neck if anything goes wrong.
When the frigate swung on to a new tack his grip tightened on the gunnel. He loved the sea and being on it, particularly on the deck of a British warship, proud that the ships of Empire possessed the sea as much as any ships could rule the waves. Ketterer's right about not wanting to create another navy, he thought, not with these men-- the French, American and Prussian navies are enough trouble as it is.
He looked aft.
Aft, over the horizon, was Yedo. Yedo and Yoshi spell trouble whichever way you look at it, whatever the rosy future he promised.
Ahead was Yokohama. More trouble there but never mind, tonight Angelique's my dinner partner-- I'm glad she didn't leave but still don't understand why. Doesn't that play even more into Tess Struan's hands?
Strange to think of Angelique without Malcolm Struan. Sorry he had such bad luck but he's gone and we're alive and he isn't. Joss. Who'll be tai-pan now? Young Duncan's only ten, last of the Struan boys.
Terrible for Tess, more tragedy to bear. Wouldn't be surprised if this didn't finish her. Always admired her for her courage, carrying the load of Culum and the Brocks, not to mention Dirk Struan.
Well, I did my best for Tess, and for Malcolm--alive and dead. And for Angelique.
When she leaves there'll be an emptiness that won't be filled easily. Hope she regains the youth she's lost, that's another sadness but she's got a whole life in front of her--if she has his child or if she doesn't. Betting's still evens.
Commands on the bridge attracted his attention for a moment but it was nothing urgent, just adding more sail. The wind was humming the shrouds. The frigate picked up speed. Their moorings were under an hour away. Sunset a good two hours.
Plenty of time to bring Nakama to heel before dinner.
Sunset was just a lowering of light, the sun dying behind a blanket of clouds, regretting the loss of the day.
Hiraga said to the group of fishermen, "That boat will do--no fishing tackle, but oars and sail are included." He was on the beach near Drunk Town and he paid the owner what had been asked without bargaining, still unwilling to lose face by negotiating though he knew now--too well hammered into him by Mukfey--that he was being cheated and overcharged and that this man and his compatriots would laugh at him as soon as they were out of sight. He knew he was to blame because he was dressed like a gai-jin and not properly with swords.
Half of him wanted to scream and lash out at their bad manners and have them crawling on the beach, begging for the privilege of giving him the boat. The other half counselled patience: You have done what you must do, the boat is yours, tomorrow you die with honor in the cause of sonno-joi, these lice have no more value than the barnacles on the filthy little vessel they sell.
"Leave everything in the boat," he said.
Unctuously the owner bowed and grovelled his way out of range, then, with his comrades, walked away, blessing their luck for a double profit.
The boat was an ordinary little fishing boat for one to three men with a small sail and single stern oar. Part of samurai training was the use of boats on short distances to traverse rivers or to reach offshore coastal ships or galleys, so they could all handle it. The news that he had bought one would fly around the village but that did not matter. By the time the shoya and others had worked out its probable use, the revelation would be too late.
Satisfied the boat was safe, he began to walk through Drunk Town, through the crowded alleys, stepping over drunks and garbage, disgusted with the filth. Taira says his London is the cleanest, biggest wealthiest city in the world but I do not believe him--not if so many of his kind live like this, with the rest of the Settlement not much better. Taking a shortcut he crossed into a smaller alley. Men passed by, beggars held their hands out, eyes peered suspiciously from doorways but no one bothered him.
No Man's Land was as always, weed-covered and stinking, the main refuse dump of the Settlement.
A few ragged scavengers raked through the latest pile of trash. They glanced at him briefly.