Shogun

Blackthorne showed them how to take the ropes to one side, then to the other, trying to ease the wreck to port or starboard but it was as fixed as though anchored.

“I’ll have to buoy it, then the tide’ll do the work and lift it,” he said aloud in English.

“Dozo?” Naga said, puzzled.

“Ah, gomen nasai, Naga-san.” With signs and pictures in the sand he explained, damning his lack of words, how to make a raft and tie it to the spines at low tide; then the next high tide would float the wreck and they could pull it ashore and beach it. At the next low tide it would be easy to manage because they would have laid rollers for it to rest on.

“Ah so desu!” Naga said, impressed. When he explained to the other officers, they also were filled with admiration and Blackthorne’s own vassals were puffed with implied importance.

Blackthorne noticed this and he pointed a finger at one. “Where are your manners?”

“What? Oh, so sorry, Sire, please excuse me for offending you.”

“Today I will, tomorrow no. Swim out to ship—untie this rope.”

The ronin-samurai quailed and rolled his eyes. “So sorry, Sire, I can’t swim.”

Now it was silent on the beach and Blackthorne knew all were waiting to see what would happen. He was furious with himself, for an order was an order and involuntarily he had given a death sentence that was not merited this time. He thought a moment. “Toranaga-sama’s orders, all men learn swim. Neh? All my vassals swim within thirty days. Better swim in thirty days. You, in water—get first lesson now.”

Fearfully the samurai began to walk into the sea, knowing he was a dead man. Blackthorne joined him and when the man’s head went under he pulled him up, none too kindly, and made him swim, letting him flounder but never dangerously all the way out to the wreck, the man coughing and retching and holding on. Then he pulled him ashore again and twenty yards from the shallows he shoved him off. “Swim!”

The man made it like a half-drowned cat. Never again would he act self-important in front of his master. His fellows cheered and the men on the beach were rolling in the sand with laughter, those who could swim.

“Very good, Anjin-san,” Naga said. “Very wise.” He laughed again, then said, “Please, I send men for bamboo. For raft, neh? Tomorrow try to get all here.”

“Thank you.”

“More pull today?”

“No, no thank—” Blackthorne stopped and shaded his eyes. Father Alvito was standing on a dune, watching them.

“No, thank you, Naga-san,” Blackthorne said. “All finish here today. Please excuse me a moment.” He went to get his clothes and swords but his men brought them to him quickly. Unhurriedly, he dressed and stuck his swords in his sash.

“Good afternoon,” Blackthorne said, going over to Alvito. The priest looked drawn but there was friendliness in his face, as there had been before their violent quarrel outside Mishima. Blackthorne’s caution increased.

“And to you, Captain-Pilot. I’m leaving this morning. I just wanted to talk a moment. Do you mind?”

“No, not at all.”

“What are you going to do, try to float the hulk?”

“Yes.”

“It won’t help you, I’m afraid.”

“Never mind. I’m going to try.”

“You really believe you can build another ship?”

“Oh, yes,” Blackthorne said patiently, wondering what was in Alvito’s mind.

“Are you going to bring the rest of your crew here to help you?”

“No,” Blackthorne said, after a moment. “They’d rather be in Yedo. When the ship’s near completion .?.?. there’s plenty of time to bring them here.”

“They live with eta, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Is that the reason you don’t want them here?”

“One reason.”

“I don’t blame you. I heard they’re all very quarrelsome now and drunk most of the time. Did you know a week or so ago there was a small riot among them and their house burned down, so the story goes?”

“No. Was anyone hurt?”

“No. But that was only through the Grace of God. Next time .?.?. It seems one of them has made a still. Terrible what drink does to a man.”

“Yes. Pity about their house. They’ll build another.”

Alvito nodded and looked back at the spines washed by the waves. “I wanted to tell you before I go, I know what the loss of Mariko-san means to you. I was greatly saddened by your story about Osaka, but in a way uplifted. I understand what her sacrifice means .?.?. Did she tell you about her father, all that other tragedy?”

“Yes. Some of it.”

“Ah. Then you understand also. I knew Ju-san Kubo quite well.”

“What? You mean Akechi Jinsai?”

“Oh, sorry, yes. That’s the name he’s known by now. Didn’t Mariko-sama tell you?”

“No.”

“The Taiko sneeringly dubbed him that: Ju-san Kubo, Shogun of the Thirteen Days. His rebellion—from mustering his men to the great seppuku—lasted only thirteen days. He was a fine man but he hated us, not because we were Christians but because we were foreigners. I often wondered if Mariko became Christian just to learn our ways, to destroy us. He often said I poisoned Goroda against him.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“What was he like?”

“A short, bald man, very proud, a fine general and a poet of great note. So sad to end that way, all the Akechis. And now the last of them. Poor Mariko .?.?. but what she did saved Toranaga, if God wills it.” Alvito’s fingers touched his rosary. After a moment he said, “Also, Pilot, also before I go I want to apologize for .?.?. well, I’m glad the Father-Visitor was there to save you.”

“You apologize for my ship too?”

“Not for the Erasmus, though I had nothing to do with that. I apologize only for those men, Pesaro and the Captain-General. I’m glad your ship’s gone.”

“Shigata ga nai, Father. Soon I’ll have another.”

“What kind of craft will you try to build?”

“One big enough and strong enough.”

“To attack the Black Ship?”

“To sail home to England—and defend myself against anyone.”

“It will be a waste, all that labor.”

“There’ll be another ‘Act of God’?”

“Yes. Or sabotage.”

“If there is and my new ship fails, I’m going to build another, and if that fails, another. I’m going to build a ship or get a berth and when I get back to England I’m going to beg or borrow or buy or steal a privateer and then I’m coming back.”

“Yes. I know. That’s why you will never leave. You know too much, Anjin-san. I told you that before and I say it again, but with no malice. Truly. You’re a brave man, a fine adversary, one to respect, and I do, and there should be peace between us. We’re going to see a lot of each other over the years—if any of us survive the war.”

“Are we?”

“Yes. You’re too good at Japanese. Soon you’ll be Toranaga’s personal interpreter. We shouldn’t quarrel, you and I. I’m afraid our destinies are interlocked. Did Mariko-san tell you that, too? She told me.”

“No. She never said that. What else did she tell you?”

“She begged me to be your friend, to protect you if I could. Anjin-san, I didn’t come here to goad you, or to