Gai-Jin (20 page)

“Yes, sir.”

When he was satisfied all was correct, the Admiral then turned back to
Sir William. “This … this Struan family and their so-called Noble House, is it really so important?”

“Yes. Their trade is enormous, their influence in Asia, notably in China, without compare, except for Brock and Sons.”

“I’ve seen their clippers, of course. Beauties, and very well armed.” The Admiral added bluntly, “I hope to Christ they don’t try to peddle opium or guns here.”

“Personally I agree, though it’s not against present law.”

“It is, according to Chinese law. Or Japan’s.”

“Yes, but there are mitigating circumstances,” Sir William said wearily. He had been through the same explanation dozens of times. “I’m sure you know China will only accept cash, silver or gold, for the tea we must import, nothing else. The only merchandise they’ll pay cash for—gold or silver—is opium, nothing else. It’s very unfortunate.”

“Then it’s up to traders and Parliament and diplomats to pull their fingers out. For the last twenty years the Royal Navy has been enforcing illegal laws in Asia, bombarding China ports and cities, doing all sorts of rotten acts of war, in my opinion just to support opium—a blot on our escutcheon!”

Sir William sighed. His orders from the Permanent Under Secretary had been precise: “For Christ’s sake, dear Willie, this is the first time you’ll be Minister in charge so be careful, don’t make any precipitous decisions, unless they’re necessary. You’re astonishingly lucky: the telegraph wire has already reached Baghdad, so we can get and send messages there in an incredible seven days; add another six-odd weeks by steamer to Yokohama through the Persian Gulf, Indian Ocean via Singapore and Hong Kong, our instructions will only take an incredible two months to arrive—not the twelve to fifteen months ten-odd years ago. So if you need guidance, which you will all the time if you’re wise, you’re about four months off our leash, and that’s the only thing that protects your neck and our Empire. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Rule number one: Handle the service Brass with velvet gloves and don’t overrule them lightly, because your life and those of all Englishmen in your area depend on them. They’re inclined to be boneheaded, which is excellent for obviously we need lots of these sort of fellows to go off and get killed defending our, well, Imperial policy. Do not make waves; Japan is unimportant but in our sphere of influence and we’ve spent considerable time and money finessing the Russians, Americans and French out. Do not foul up our Japanese nest; we’ve enough on our Imperial plate with rebellious Indians, Afghans, Arabs, Africans, Persians, Caribbeans, Chinese, to say nothing of the rotten Europeans, Americans, Russians, etc. My dear, dear Willie, be diplomatic and don’t fuck up or else!”

Sir William sighed again, bottled his temper, and repeated what he had
said a dozen times, the truth: “A lot of what you say is correct, but unfortunately we have to be practical. Without tax revenue on tea the whole British economy will collapse. Let’s hope in a few years our Bengal opium fields can be torched. Meanwhile we have to be patient.”

“Meanwhile I suggest you embargo all opium here, all modern weapons, all modern warships, and all slavery.”

“Of course I agree about slavery, that’s been outlawed since ’33!” Sir William’s voice edged perceptibly. “The Americans have been informed long since. As to the rest, unfortunately that’s up to London.”

The Admiral’s chin jutted even further. “Well, sir, I have certain powers in these waters. You can take it I am instituting such an embargo now. I’ve heard disquieting rumors about Struan’s ordering rifles and cannon for sale. They’ve already sold these natives three or four armed steamers and the Jappers learn too fast for my liking. I will write formally by tomorrow’s mail to the Admiralty to ask them to insist my orders are made permanent.”

The Minister’s face mottled, he planted his feet even more firmly into the deck. “An admirable idea,” he said icily. “I will write by the same mail. Meanwhile you cannot make such an order without my approval and until we have a directive from the Foreign Office
the status quo remains the status quo
!”

Both of their aides blanched. The Admiral looked at Sir William, of a height with him. All officers and most men would have quailed but Sir William just stared back. “I’ll … I’ll consider what you say, Sir William. Now if you’ll excuse me I have things to do.” He turned and stomped off for the bridge. Weakly Marlowe began to follow. “For Christ’s sake, Marlowe, stop following me like a puppy. If I want you I’ll shout. Stay within shouting distance!”

“Yessir.” When the man was well away Marlowe exhaled.

Sir William had exhaled too and he mopped his brow and muttered, “Awfully glad I’m not in the Navy.”

“Me too,” Tyrer said, amazed by the Minister’s courage.

Marlowe’s heart was racing, hating to be bellowed at, even by an Admiral, but he did not forget himself. “I, er … excuse me, sir, but the fleet’s very safe in his hands, sir, and the expedition, and we all believe he’s quite right about selling ships, guns, cannon and opium. Japanners are already building ships and making small cannon—this year they sailed their first iron steamship, the 300-ton
Kanrin maru
to San Francisco, crewed and captained entirely by them. They’ve mastered the deep. That’s remarkable in such a short time.”

“Yes, yes, it is.” Sir William wondered briefly how the Japanese Delegation that went with this ship had fared in Washington, and what mischief President Lincoln would generate against our glorious Empire. Aren’t we dependent on Confederate cotton for our Lancashire mills that
are being ruined? At the same time aren’t we increasingly dependent on abundant Union wheat and corn and meat and other trade? He shuddered. God damn that war! And politicians, and Lincoln. Didn’t the man’s inaugural speech in March include: “… this country belongs to the people and whenever they shall grow weary of their government they can exercise their constitutional right to amend it, or revolutionary right to dismember it or overthrow it …”

Inflammatory to say the least! If that idea spread to Europe! My God! Dreadful! We may be at war with them any day, certainly at sea. Must have cotton.

He was trying to collect himself, heartily relieved that the Admiral had backed down and still cursing himself for losing control. You’ve got to be more careful, and mustn’t worry about Yedo and your stupid, arrogant decision to “go there, by God, in three days in a battleship and see the Shōgun, by God!” as though you’re Clive of India. You’re not. This is your first tour of the Far East and you’re a novice. Madness to put all these men at risk over a few murders, madness to risk a fullscale war. But is it?

Sorry, but no.

If the Bakufu get away with this killing, then there will be no end and we will be forced to withdraw—until allied battle fleets return to enforce Imperial wills bloodily. Your decision is correct, the manner of reaching it wrong. Yes, but it’s damned difficult with no one to talk to—who you can trust. Thank God Daphne arrives in a couple of months. I never thought I’d miss her and her counsel so much. I can’t wait to see her and my boys—ten months is a long time and I know the change from London’s stinking pea soup fogs and gloom will make her happy and please her and it will be grand for the boys. We could use some English ladies in the Settlement, of the right sort. We’ll go on trips and she will make the Legation a home.

His eyes focused on the approaching headland. Around it was Yedo and the cannonade. Was that wise? he asked himself queasily. I hope so. Then the landing and going to the Legation. You’ve got to do that—and prepare for the meeting tomorrow. You’re alone in this. Henri Seratard’s waiting for you to mess up, hoping. And the Russian.

But you’re the one in charge and it’s your job, and don’t forget you wanted to be “Minister” somewhere, anywhere. Indeed I did, but I never expected Japan! Damn the Foreign Office. I’ve never been in a situation like this: all my experience has been at the French or Russian desk in London or at the Court of St. Petersburg, odd postings wangled to glorious Paris and Monaco with never a warship or regiment in sight ….

Marlowe was saying stiffly, “I hope you don’t mind, sir, me giving my opinion of the Admiral’s position.”

“Oh, not at all.” Sir William made an effort to put his worry aside: I will try to avoid war, but if it is to be, it will be. “You’re quite right, Mr. Marlowe,
and of course I’m honored to have Admiral Ketterer in charge,” he said, and at once felt better. “Our difference of opinion was over protocol. Yes, but at the same time we should be encouraging the Japanese to industrialize and to sail ships, one ship or twenty’s nothing to be concerned about. We should encourage them—we’re not here to colonize, but it is we who should be training them, Mr. Marlowe, not the Dutch or the French. Thank you for reminding me—the more our influence here the better.” He was feeling lighter. It was rare for him to be able to talk freely to one of the up-and-coming captains and he found Marlowe impressive, both here and at Kanagawa. “Do all officers detest civilians and traders?”

“No, sir. But I don’t think many of us understand them. We have different lives, different priorities. It’s difficult for us at times.” Most of Marlowe’s attention was on the Admiral, who was talking to the Captain on the bridge, everyone nearby uneasily aware of him. The sun broke through the overcast and all at once the day seemed better. “To be in the Navy is, well, it’s all I ever wanted to do.”

“Your family is naval?”

At once Marlowe said proudly, “Yes, sir,” wanting to add, my father’s a Captain, presently in the Home Fleet—so was his father, he was Flag Lieutenant to Admiral Lord Collingwood in
Royal Sovereign
at Trafalgar—and my forebears have been in the Navy since there was one. And before that, so legend goes, they ran privateers out of Dorset where the family comes from—we’ve lived there, in the same house, for more than four centuries. But he said none of it, his training telling him it would sound like boasting. He just added, “My family come from Dorset.”

“Mine come from the north of England, Northumberland, for generations,” Sir William said absently, his eyes on the approaching headland, his mind on the Bakufu. “My father died when I was young—he was a Member of Parliament, with business interests in Sunderland and London, and dealt in the Baltic trade and Russian furs. My mother was Russian so I grew up bilingual and that got me on the first rung of the F.O. She was …” He caught himself just in time, astonished that he had volunteered so much. He had been going to add that she, his mother, was born the Countess Sveva, a cousin to the Romanovs, that she was still alive and once had been a lady-in-waiting to Queen Victoria. I really must concentrate—as if my family and background were any of their business. “Er, what about you, Tyrer?”

“London, sir. Father’s a solicitor, like his father.” Phillip Tyrer laughed. “After I got my degree at London University and told him I wanted to join the Foreign Office he almost had a fit! And when I applied to become an interpreter in Japan he told me I’d gone mad.”

“Perhaps he was right, you’re damned lucky to be alive and you’re hardly here a week. Don’t you agree, Marlowe?”

“Yes, sir. That’s true.” Marlowe thought the time apt. “By the way, Phillip, how is Mr. Struan?”

“Neither good nor bad was how George Babcott put it.”

“I certainly hope he recovers,” Sir William said, a sudden ache in his bowels.

When he had gone to Kanagawa three days ago, Marlowe had met his cutter and told him what he knew about Struan and Tyrer, about losing the soldier, the suicide of the assassin, and chasing the other one.

“Pallidar and I charged after the bugger, Sir William, but the man had just vanished. We combed the surrounding houses but nothing. Tyrer thinks they might be the two Tokaidō attackers, sir, the murderers. But he’s not sure, most of them look alike, don’t they?”

“But if they were the two, why should they risk going to the Legation?”

“The best we could come up with was perhaps to prevent identification and to finish the job, sir.”

They had left the wharf and hurried through the ominously deserted streets. “What about the girl, Mr. Marlowe?”

“Seems to be fine, sir. Just shaken.”

“Good, thank God for that. The French Minister is wound up as tight as a gnat’s bum about the “vile insult to the honor of France and one of his nationals who is also his ward.” The sooner she’s back in Yokohama the better—oh, by the way, the Admiral asked me to tell you to return to Yokohama at once. There’s a lot to do. We, er, we’ve decided to pay Yedo a formal visit in three days, by flagship…. ”

Marlowe had felt his excitement explode. Sea or land engagements were the only real way to quick promotion and to the Admiral’s bars he would have at all costs. I’ll make the Old Man proud of me, and get Flag Rank long before Charles and Percy—his two younger brothers, both Lieutenants.

And now on the deck of the flagship, the sun good, the deck throbbing with the power of the engines, his excitement welled up again. “We’ll be off Yedo before you know it, sir. Your entrance will be the biggest that’s ever been, you’ll get the murderers, indemnity and anything else you want.”

Both Tyrer and Sir William had heard the excitement, but Sir William only felt chilled. “Yes, well, I think I’ll go below for a minute. No, thank you, Mr. Marlowe, I know the way.”

With great relief, the two young men watched him go. Marlowe checked that the Admiral was within sight. “What happened at Kanagawa after I left, Phillip?”

“It was, well, extraordinary, she was extraordinary, if that’s what you were asking.”

“How so?”

“About five o’clock she came down and went straight to see Malcolm
Struan and stayed with him until dinner—that’s when I saw her. She seemed … seemed older, no, that’s not quite right either, not older but more serious than before, mechanical. George says she’s still in some form of shock. During dinner Sir William said he’d take her back with him to Yokohama but she just thanked him and refused, said she’d first have to make sure Malcolm was all right, and neither he nor George nor any of us could persuade her otherwise. She hardly ate anything and went back to his sickroom, stayed with him and even insisted on having a cot made up there so she could be within call if need be. In fact, for the next two days, until yesterday when I went back to Yokohama, she hardly left his side and we barely spoke a dozen words to her.”