Hiraga shrugged. "P'rease, no attack.
Wakatta?"
Tyrer did not reply. Wakatta was the imperious form of wakarimasu ka: Do you understand?
"Domo." With a contained violence that Tyrer could almost smell, Nakama thanked him again and said that he would return at dawn to guide him to the safe house, and would be ready then to answer any questions that he wanted to ask. He bowed stiffly.
Tyrer did the same. He walked out. It was only then that Tyrer saw the extent of the bruises over all his back and legs.
That night the wind became changeable, the sea choppy.
Out in the roads the fleet was snug at anchor and ready for sleep, the first night watch that came on duty at 8:00 P.m. already at their stations. Upwards of fifty men were in various cells for various offenses and with varying degrees of fear six were diligently making their own cat-o'-nine-tails for the fifty lashes they were due at dawn for conduct prejudicial to good order and military discipline: one for threatening to break the neck of a sodomite Bosun, three for fighting, one for stealing a rum ration, and another for swearing at an officer.
Nine sea burials were scheduled for sunup.
All ship's sick bays were overloaded with sufferers of dysentery, diarrhea, the croup, whooping cough, scarlet fever, measles, venereal diseases, broken limbs, hernias and the like, routine except for a dangerous fourteen with smallpox aboard the flagship. Bleeding and violent purges were the recommended cures for most illnesses--the majority of doctors also being barbers--except for the lucky few patients who were given Dr. Collis's Tincture, one he had invented during the Crimea that cut dysentery deaths by three quarters: six drops of the dark, opium-based liquid and your bowels began to quieten.
Throughout the Settlement everyone was preparing for dinner and the most eagerly anticipated part of the day: after-dinner conversation, discussing the day's rumors or news--thank God the mail ship's due tomorrow--enjoying the warm camaraderie and laughter over spicy scandals, the ball, tension over business problems and if war would begin, or about the latest book someone had read, a new funny story or poem another had thought up, or telling tales of storms or ice lands or desert, or journeys made to strange places throughout the Empire--New Zealand, Africa and Australia hardly explored but for coastal areas --or the Wild West of America and Canada, stories of the California gold rush of '48, or visits to Spanish or French or Russian America--Dmitri had once sailed the mostly uncharted western seaboard from San Francisco north to Russian Alaska --each man telling of strange sights he had seen, girls sampled or wars witnessed.
Good wine and drinks and pipes and tobacco from Virginia, a few nightcaps at the Club, then prayers and bed.
A normal night in the Empire.
Some hosts specialized in chorals or poetry readings or excerpts from a coveted novel, and tonight at Norbert Greyforth's extremely private party, all guests sworn to secrecy, a special reading of the last chapter from the bootlegged copy he had had produced in his allotted hour by putting all his fifty clerks on to it. "If this leaks, the whole lot of you are dismissed," he had threatened.
In the Club they were still discussing the previous night's ball and trying to work out how to have another.
"Why not make it a bloody weekly bash, eh?
Angel Tits can kick up her heels and show her knickers for me every day of the week along with Naughty Nellie Fortheringill--"
"Stop calling her Angel Tits for chrissake or else!"
"Angel tits she has, and Angel Tits she is!"
To jeers and catcalls the fight started, bets were taken and the two contenders, Lunkchurch and Grimm, another trader, toed the line and tried to smash each other senseless.
Almost directly across the road, on the sea side, was the large brick bungalow of the British Legation, flagpole in the courtyard, gardens, and surrounded like most important dwellings with a defendable fence. Sir William was already dressed for dinner and so was his main guest, the Admiral, both were furious.
"The bloody bastards!" the Admiral said, his flushed face more flushed than usual, going to the sideboard to pour another large whisky.
"They're beyond comprehension."
"Totally." Sir William tossed the scroll aside and glared at Johann and Tyrer who stood in front of him. An hour ago the scroll had arrived by messenger from the Japanese Governor who had sent it on behalf of the Bakufu, "Very urgent so sorry." Instead of being in Dutch as was normal, it was in characters. With Seratard's agreement, Johann had co-opted one of the visiting French Jesuit missionaries and had produced a rough copy that Tyrer at once put into correct English. The message was from the Council of Elders, and signed by Anjo: I communicate with you by dispatch. By orders of the Shogun, received from Kyoto, the provisional date of the meeting in nineteen days with the roju, and meeting the same day with the Shogun, is to be postponed for three months as His Majesty will not return until then. I therefore send you this first, before holding a Conference as to the details. The second installment of the gift is to be delayed for thirty days. Respectful and humble communication.
"Johann," Sir William said, his voice icy, "would you say this is unusually rude, impolite and altogether vile?"
The Swiss said cautiously, "I think that's about right, Sir William."
"For Christ sake, I've spent days negotiating, threatening, losing sleep, renegotiating until they swore on the Shogun's head to meet in Yedo on November 5th, the Shogun on November 6th and now this!" Sir William gulped his drink, choked and swore for almost five minutes in English, French and Russian, the others staring with admiration at the gorgeously descriptive vulgarities.
"Quite right," the Admiral said. "Tyrer, pour Sir William another gin."
Instantly Tyrer obeyed. Sir William found his handkerchief, blew his nose, took some snuff, sneezed and blew his nose again. "The pox on all of them!"
"What do you propose, Sir William?" the Admiral asked, keeping the delight off his face at this further humbling of his adversary.
"Naturally I'll reply at once.
Please order the fleet to Yedo tomorrow to bombard port facilities of my choosing."
The Admiral's blue eyes narrowed. "I think we will discuss this in private. Gentlemen!"
Tyrer and Johann at once began to leave.
"No," Sir William said tightly.
"Johann, you can go, please wait outside.
Tyrer's my personal staff, he stays."
The Admiral's neck reddened but he said nothing until the door had closed. "You know my views on bombardment very well. Until the order from England arrives, I-will-not-order-it unless I am attacked."
"Your position makes negotiations impossible. Power comes from the barrels of our cannon, nothing else!"
"I agree, we only disagree on timing."
"Timing is my decision. Good. Then kindly just order a small cannonade, twenty shells on targets of my choosing."
"Dammit, no! Am I not clear? When the order arrives I will conflagrate Japan if necessary, not before."
Sir William flushed. "Your reluctance to assist Her Majesty's policy in the most minor way is beyond belief."
"Personal aggrandizement seems to be the real problem. What do a few months matter? Nothing --except prudence!"
"Prudence be damned," Sir William said angrily. "Of course we will get instructions to proceed as I, I repeat I advise! It is imprudent to delay. By tomorrow's mail I will request you are replaced by an officer who is more tuned to Her Majesty's interests--and battle trained!"
The Admiral went purple. Only a few knew that in all his career he had never participated in a sea or land engagement. When he could talk he said, "That, sir, is your privilege. Meanwhile until my replacement, or yours arrives, I command Her Majesty's Forces in Japan. Good night sir." The door slammed.
"Rude bugger," Sir William muttered, then to his surprise saw Tyrer who had been standing behind him, out of his eye line, paralyzed by the salvos. "You'd best keep your mouth shut.
Did they teach you that?"
"Yessir, yes indeed."
"Good," Sir William said and took his agitated mind off the Gordian knot of the Bakufu, roju and intransigence of the Admiral for later. "Tyrer, get yourself a sherry, you look as though you need one, and you'd better join us for dinner as the Admiral has declined my invitation. You play backgammon?"