by Gai-Jin(Lit)
"Just give her my letter when you arrive Hong
Kong." Jamie had told Twomast the truth about Otami and his cousin, not wanting to get his friend into trouble, and had gone surety for their passage money, there and back, if Tess did not agree to his proposal: to advance it to them, with prudent introductions in England and Scotland-- against a fifty-fifty joint venture he would form and run to take advantage of anything he could create from them on their return.
He had written:
I know it's a long shot, Mrs. Struan, but
Otami is as smart as they come, well connected as far as I can ascertain and represents the future in Nippon. Should you not agree, please take their passage money out of the most generous golden gift you have given me. In the meantime
Albert MacStruan is doing well, your property and buildings here were untouched in the fire, and all is poised for a good future--I will continue to help if he asks. Last, may I say be careful of Brock's new manager,
Edward Gornt. He's a good, brave man but a dangerous rival.
"This is going to be expensive, Jamie,"
Twomast said. He was a lean, short, hard-faced seaman, with dark hair and brown eyes and leathery skin. "At least a hundred pounds.
Is it worth the risk?"
"It's her ship, passage costs her nothing."
"It's still expensive and she looks after the pence as well as the pounds. Never mind, it's up to her.
I'll cash your sight draft in London town if she doesn't foot the bill. You're sure your Jappos understand they're to obey me?"
"Yes. I've told them that on board you're king, a daimyo. They're to obey you and stay aboard until you disembark them in London. But
Johnny, treat them like nobs. You'll be rewarded."
Twomast laughed. "Yes, but in heaven. Never mind, I owe you one or two over the years past so I'll do it."
"Thanks." Jamie looked around the cabin.
Small, a bunk, chart table, table to seat four, neat, tough, seaworthy--like Johnny Twomast, originally Norwegian, and a cousin of Sven
Orlov, the hunchback, who was Master of the
Struan fleet after Dirk Struan.
Atlanta Belle, a thousand-ton merchant steamer, could sleep four first-class passengers, ten second, fifty steerage with room for substantial cargo. "Where will they bunk?"
"With the crew, where else?"
"Can you give them a cabin, don't mind how small."
"We've a full house and they'll learn fast with the crew, learn our ways, have to."
"Give them a cabin at least until after
Hong Kong, I don't want either recognized."
Johnny Twomast said, "They can have the Third
Mate's cabin, it's got two bunks. Are they armed, Jamie?"
"Sure they're armed, they're samurai."
"No arms, not samurai, by God."
Jamie shrugged. "Tell them, but please treat them as nobs, not natives, strange but nobs, important Japanese, they are you know."
"Mister!" the Captain called out. "Send them in!"
Hiraga and Akimoto came in, well briefed by Jamie.
"Which one of you speaks English?"
"I do, Anjin-sama. I Otami-sama."
"Mr. McFay here is guarantor for you,
Otamisama, for your good behavior all the way to London. You agree to obey me, to stay aboard if I say so, to go ashore and come back as I say, until London town, obey me as if I was your chief, your daimyo?"
"We agree do what Anjin-sama say,"
Hiraga said carefully.
"Good, but no arms while aboard. I want all swords, guns, knives. They'll be returned to you." Twomast saw the flash of anger and marked it. "You agree?"
"But if men attack us?"
"If my men attack you, use your fists till I arrive. They'll be warned, fifty lashes for each man if they start it. You don't start it, understand?"
"No, so sorry." Jamie explained how the seamen would be tied to the rigging and flogged for disobeying. Appalled by the cruelty, Hiraga passed this on to Akimoto, then said, "But,
Anjin-sama, you no fear? If man free on ship, after such insu'rt, no afraid this man assassin you?"
Johnny Twomast laughed. "He'd hang, sure as God made little apples.
Mutiny's punishable by death. I'll order the crew not to pick on you, you don't pick on them
--that's important too, understand?"
"Understand, Anjin-sama," Hiraga said, understanding only partially, his head aching.
"Any trouble come to me. No fighting unless you're attacked. Your weapons please."
Reluctantly Hiraga gave over their bundled swords. And the derringer. "Mister!"
The cabin door opened. "Yessir?"
"These two'll have the Third Mate's berth,
I'll show 'em."
Jamie got up and offered his hand to Hiraga.
"Safe journey, you can write anytime you like, and to Phillip... to Taira-sama. As I told you I'll write you care of my bank, the
Hongkong Bank in the Mall. It's all in the papers I've given you along with how to receive or collect mail. Don't expect a reply for four months. Good luck and safe return."
They shook hands, Jamie did the same with
Akimoto.
"You two come with me," Twomast said. He led the way down the corridor and opened a door.
"You bunk here and stay out of sight, Mr.
McFay doesn't want you recognized. After
Hong Kong it'll be easier." He closed the door.
In silence Hiraga and Akimoto looked around. It was more of a cupboard than living quarters. Barely enough room to stand together. A gimballed oil lamp spluttered dully. Two dirty bunks, one above the other against a bulkhead, drawers below. Soiled straw mattresses and wool blankets. Stench. Gum boots, unwashed clothes scattered. Storm mackintoshes hanging on pegs.
"What are those for?" Akimoto asked, numbed.
"Some sort of clothing but so stiff, how would you fight in those? I feel naked without swords."
"I feel like death, not just naked." The deck rolled under their feet and they heard men shouting orders on deck and others chantying, preparing the ship for sea, the engine loudly vibrating the deck and bulkheads, increasing their discomfort. The smallness of the space, and unpleasant smell of coal smoke and oil, stale air and staler bedding bore down on them. Again the deck pitched as she swung on an anchor and Hiraga lurched against the bunks, and sat on the lower one.
"Do you suppose we sleep on these?"
"Where else?" Akimoto muttered.
Sharp-eyed, he moved the crumpled blanket aside. All corners of the mattress were splotched with colonies of bedbugs, alive and dead, the rough canvas streaked with old blood where generations had been squashed. He managed not to be sick. "Let's go ashore," he croaked.
"I've had enough."
"No," Hiraga said through his own dread. "We have achieved a miracle, we have escaped the
Bakufu and Yoshi, and we're launched into the enemy's heartland as guests, we can spy out their secrets and learn how to destroy them."
"Learn what? How to flog a man to death, how to live in this cesspit for months? Did you see how the Captain rudely walked off without returning our bow. Come on... even if I have to swim ashore!" Akimoto grabbed the door handle but Hiraga caught him by the shirt and dragged him back. "No!"
Akimoto snarled at him and broke free, to crash against the door, with no room even to struggle, then shouted, "You're not one of us, you're gai-jin infected! Let me go, better to die civilized than to live like this!"
Suddenly Hiraga was petrified. Time stood still. For the first time he completely understood the enormity of what he had launched them into: the outside, the barbarian world, away from everything civilized, leaving everything worthwhile behind, sonno-joi and Choshu and shishi and family, leaving no wife and sons--ah my brave and so wonderful Sumomo how you are missed, you would have made my leaving easier but now...
His limbs began to tremble, heart hammering, breath cho
king, every part of him screaming at him to flee this hell that represented everything he detested. If London was like this, anything was better, anything.
He shoved Akimoto out of the way and lunged for the door. But stopped. "No," he gasped,
"I will bear this! I will! I'll bear it for sonno-joi. We must for sonno-joi,
Cousin, we must bear it but whatever happens we will die like samurai, we will make our death poems, that's what we'll do, we'll make them now, now, then nothing else matters in this life..."
Ashore at the jetty the Bosun called out,
"Last call for Belle, all aboard!"
"So, good luck, Edward, and a safe return," Angelique said, still consumed with melancholy, but with a little smile that lit up his being. "Take care!"
After leaving Sir William earlier, she had finished her tears in the privacy of her suite-- so much to cry over these days, she thought, where do all the tears come from, and yet, when the heartache has past, clear thinking and clearheaded again. Once more in control she had gone downstairs and, again in privacy, had met Gornt. They had said everything that needed to be said. The strength and confidence and love he radiated had pushed away the bad.
Edward is good for me, she thought, looking up at him--not that he will ever replace my
Malcolm, that's different.
"You all right now?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you, my dear. Hurry back."
He kissed her proffered hand. "Take care,
Ma'am." His glow made him even more boyish.
"Don't forget." She had asked him to tell
Tess that she hoped, one day they could meet as friends. "It's important."
"Yes it is and I won't forget and I'll be back before you know it." For those nearby he added louder, "I'll see that your shopping list is taken care of, never fear." A final little pressure on her hand and he leapt onto the slippery deck without a care, hung on with one hand, last aboard. The Bosun tooted, shoved the throttles Full Astern and backed into the chop.
Gornt waved and then, not wanting to be indiscreet, went into the cabin.
"Pretty girl," Hoag said, thoughtfully.
"Yes, suh, a Belle to end Belles."
Both men watched the jetty recede. "Have you ever been to India, Edward?"
"No, never have. You been to Paris?"
"No, never. But India's the best place in the world, best life in the world for Englishmen, you're mostly that aren't you?" In his mind Hoag could see himself arriving at her family house that was behind high walls, brown and dusty outside but inside cool and green, the sound of the water fountain mingling with laughter that permeated the main house and the servants' quarters, together with friendliness and the peace possessed by everyone because of their utter belief in birth and death and rebirth, in never-ending succession, until through the mercy of the Infinite they would reach Nirvana, the Place of Heavenly
Peace. Arjumand will be there, he thought, oh how I hope I can find my way there too.
His eyes focused on the jetty, on
Angelique and others, all people he would probably never see again. Now Angelique waved a last time then strolled over to Maureen
Ross who was waiting by the lamp. I hope they become friends, he thought, wondering about them. In a moment, they and the jetty became part of the night.
Angelique's correct to bend to Tess, he thought, not that she had any option. Absently his fingers made sure her affidavit was safe in his pocket.
Sad about Malcolm, tragic. Poor
Malcolm, diligently working all his life for something he would never have, would never be. Malcolm
Struan, the tai-pan who never truly was
--all his life like a snow-blind man in a blizzard searching for a white tent that was never there.
"Sad about Malcolm, don't you think?" But
Gornt was no longer beside him. He looked around and saw he had gone on deck and, his back to Yokohama, was watching the Belle ahead, hatless, the wind ruffling his hair.
Why the smile, and what's behind it? he asked himself. So hard and yet... Something strange about that young man. Is he a king in the making or a man bent on regicide?
Most people on the jetty had wandered off.
Angelique was beside Maureen near the lamp, watching the Belle and disappearing cutter. Soon they were alone but for Chen and Vargas who were talking quietly with one another, waiting to unload the cutter, should it be necessary and, unasked, to chaperone the two women.
"Maureen..." Angelique glanced at her. Her lovely smile faded, noticing how unhappy her newfound friend looked. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Well, no, it's... really, dinna concern yoursel'. It's, it's just that I haven't seen Jamie all day, he's been busy and, and I had something important..." The words trailed off.
"I'll wait with you if you like. Even better, Maureen, why not come with me? Let's wait in my suite and watch from my window.
We'll see the cutter in plenty of time to meet her."
"I think I'd... well, I think I'd rather wait here."
Angelique firmly took her arm. "What is it? What's the matter, can I help?"
"No, I din'na think so, dear
Angelique. It's, it's just that, it's just that
..." Maureen hesitated again, then stammered,
"oh God, I din'na want to burden you but his, Jamie's, his, his mistress, came to see me this afternoon."
"From the Yoshiwara?"
"Yes. She came to kowtow, to bow, she said, and tell me not to worry because she's looked after him perfectly and she wanted to ask in future should she present her bill to me monthly or yearly."
Angelique's mouth dropped open. "She did?"
"Yes." Maureen looked green under the oil light and stuttered, "She also said that if there was anything I wanted to know about... about, about
"Jami" as she called him, ugh!, about his bed habits, pos--positions and so on, as I was a virgin and wouldn't know these things, she'd be happy to oblige in detail because she was a professional of Second Rank and promised to give me a picture book called a "pillow book" and she would mark his, his specialties but not to worry because Jami was well practiced and his
... his, she called it his One-eyed Monk was in perfect order. There, now you know it all!"
Angelique was flabbergasted. "Mon
Dieu, you poor dear, how awful! But... but she speaks English too?"
"No, an almost incoherent mixture of gibberish and pidgin and some of Jamie's words but
I understood her key points perfectly well indeed. It it seems she's, she's been his doxy for a year or more. She was tiny, no' at all pretty, no' five foot and I said, I didn'a know what to say so I remarked on her size, how small she was and the huzzy, the huzzy guffawed and said, "P'renti big 'nuff,
Jami tai-tai, on back fit awe' same, heya? You 'rucky womans.""
"Oh, mon Dieu!"
"Q. What do I do?"
Angelique found her own head buzzing. "You could... no that wouldn't do..."
"Perhaps I could... no I canna'. It's too much..."
"What if you..." Angelique shook her head. Impotently she stared at her and at that moment Maureen looked at her, each seeing herself in the other, the same shock, revulsion, repugnance, contempt, fury written clearly on both faces. For a moment they were frozen, then
Angelique snickered, in a second Maureen did the same and then they were choked with laughter.
Chen and Vargas peered across at them, the peals of laughter mixing with the waves on the shore and those that battered the pilings. Angelique wiped away these, the first, good, laughter tears she had had in such a long time. "His One-eyed..." Again they were convulsed, shrieking with laughter until their stomachs hurt and they hung on to one another.
As suddenly as the laughing fit arrived it went away. An ache remained. "It's funny,
Maureen, but not funny at all."
"Yes. Not funny," Maureen said heavily.
"I feel... I want to go home now. I th
ought I could deal with the Yoshiwara--Jamie's no different from other men--but I canna', I know that now. I canna' face this life where, where the
Yoshiwara is and will ever be and like it or no',
Angelique, in a year or two the bairns, the children, arrive and a few years after he'll think us old, whoever he is--and we will be old, our hair will be grey and teeth fall out and whoever he is he will turn away. A woman's lot is no' a happy one. I wish I was aboard Atlanta