Shogun (60 page)

“I suddenly realized, he’s at war with Ishido now. Isn’t he? So the frigate may not be inclined to help him.”

“Of course they’ll help him.”

“No. Which side benefits the Portuguese more, Lord Toranaga or Ishido? If they believe Ishido will, they’ll blow us to hell out of the water.”

“It’s unthinkable that the Portuguese would fire on any Japanese ship,” Mariko said at once.

“Believe me, they will, senhora. And I’ll bet that frigate won’t let us alongside. I wouldn’t if I were her pilot. Christ Jesus!” Blackthorne stared ashore.

The taunting Grays had left the jetty now and were spreading out parallel to the shore. No chance there, he thought. The fishing boats still lay malevolently clogging the harbor’s neck. No chance there either. “Tell Toranaga there’s only one other way to get out of the harbor. That’s to hope for a storm. Maybe we could ride it out, where the fishing boats can’t. Then we could slip past the net.”

Toranaga questioned the captain, who answered at length, then Mariko said to Blackthorne, “My Master asks, do you think there’ll be a storm?”

“My nose says yes. But not for days. Two or three. Can we wait that long?”

“Your nose tells you? There is a smell to a storm?”

“No, senhora. It’s just an expression.”

Toranaga pondered. Then he gave an order.

“We are going to within hailing distance, Anjin-san.”

“Then tell him to go directly astern of her. That way we’re the smallest target. Tell him they’re treacherous—I know how seriously treacherous they are when their interests are threatened. They’re worse than the Dutch! If that ship helps Toranaga escape, Ishido will take it out on all Portuguese and they won’t risk that.”

“My Master says we’ll soon have that answer.”

“We’re naked, senhora. We’ve no chance against those cannon. If the ship’s hostile—even if it’s simply neutral—we’re sunk.”

“My Master says, yes, but it will be your duty to persuade them to be benevolent.”

“How can I do that? I’m their enemy.”

“My Master says, in war and in peace, a good enemy can be more valuable than a good ally. He says you will know their minds—you will think of a way to persuade them.”

“The only sure way’s by force.”

“Good. I agree, my Master says. Please tell me how you would pirate that ship.”

“What?”

“He said, good, I agree. How would you pirate the ship, how would you conquer it? I require the use of their cannon. So sorry, isn’t that clear, Anjin-san?”

“And again I say I’m going to blow her out of the water,” Ferriera, the Captain-General, declared.

“No,” dell’Aqua replied, watching the galley from the quarter-deck.

“Gunner, is she in range yet?”

“No, Don Ferriera,” the chief gunner replied. “Not yet.”

“Why else is she coming at us if not for hostile reasons, Eminence? Why doesn’t she just escape? The way’s clear.” The frigate was too far from the harbor mouth for anyone aboard to see the encroaching fishing boats crowding in ambush.

“We risk nothing, Eminence, and gain everything,” Ferriera said. “We pretend we didn’t know Toranaga was aboard. We thought the bandits—bandits led by the pirate heretic—were going to attack us. Don’t worry, it will be easy to provoke them once they’re in range.”

“No,” dell’Aqua ordered.

Father Alvito turned back from the gunwale. “The galley’s flying Toranaga’s flag, Captain-General.”

“False colors!” Ferriera added sardonically, “That’s the oldest sea trick in the world. We haven’t seen Toranaga. Perhaps he isn’t aboard.”

“No.”

“God’s death, war would be a catastrophe! It’ll hurt, if not ruin, the Black Ship’s voyage this year. I can’t afford that! I won’t have anything interfere with that!”

“Our finances are in a worse position than yours, Captain-General,” dell’Aqua rapped. “If we don’t trade this year, the Church is bankrupt, is that clear? We’ve had no funds from Goa or Lisbon for three years and the loss of last year’s profit…. God give me patience! I know better than you what’s at stake. The answer is no!”

Rodrigues was sitting painfully in his seachair, his leg in a splint resting on a padded stool that was lashed safe near the binnacle. “The Captain-General’s right, Eminence. Why should she come at us, if not to try something? Why not escape, eh? Eminence, we’ve a piss-cutting opportunity here.”

“Yes, and it is a military decision,” Ferriera said.

Alvito turned on him sharply. “No, his Eminence is arbiter in this, Captain-General. We must not hurt Toranaga. We must help him.”

Rodrigues said, “You’ve told me a dozen times that once war starts it’ll go on forever. War’s started, hasn’t it? We’ve seen it start. That’s got to hurt trade. With Toranaga dead the war’s over and all our interests are safe. I say blow the ship to hell.”

“We even get rid of the heretic,” Ferriera added, watching Rodrigues. “You prevent a war for the glory of God, and another heretic goes to torment.”

“It would be unwarranted interference in their politics,” dell’Aqua replied, avoiding the real reason.

“We interfere all the time. The Society of Jesus is famous for it. We’re not simple, thick-headed peasants!”

“I’m not suggesting you are. But while I’m aboard you will not sink that ship.”

“Then kindly go ashore.”

“The sooner the archmurderer is dead, the better, Eminence,” Rodrigues suggested. “Him or Ishido, what’s the difference? They’re both heathen, and you can’t trust either of them. The Captain-General’s right, we’ll never get an opportunity like this again. And what about our Black Ship?” Rodrigues was pilot with a fifteenth part of all the profit. The real pilot of the Black Ship had died of the pox in Macao three months ago and Rodrigues had been taken off his own ship, the
Santa Theresa
, and given the new post, to his everlasting joy. Pox was the official reason, Rodrigues reminded himself grimly, though many said the other pilot was knifed in the back by a
ronin
in a whorehouse brawl. By God, this is my great chance. Nothing’s going to interfere with that!

“I will accept full responsibility,” Ferriera was saying. “It’s a military decision. We’re involved in a native war. My ship’s in danger.” He turned again to the chief gunner. “Are they in range yet?”

“Well, Don Ferriera, that depends what you wish.” The chief gunner blew on the end of the taper, which made it glow and spark. “I could take off her bow now, or her stern, or hit her amidships, whichever you prefer. But if you want a man dead, a particular man, then a moment or two would bring them into killing range.”

“I want Toranaga dead. And the heretic.”

“You mean the Ingeles, the pilot?”

“Yes.”

“Someone will have to point the Jappo out. The pilot I’ll recognize, doubtless.”

Rodrigues said, “If the pilot’s got to die to kill Toranaga and stop the war then I’m for it, Captain-General. Otherwise he should be spared.”

“He’s a heretic, an enemy of our country, an abomination, and he’s already caused us more trouble than a nest of vipers.”

“I’ve already pointed out that first the Ingeles is a pilot and last he’s a pilot, one of the best in the world.”

“Pilots should have special privileges? Even heretics?”

“Yes, by God. We should use him like they use us. It’d be a God-cursed waste to kill such experience. Without pilots there’s no piss-cutting Empire and no trade and no nothing. Without me, by God, there’s no Black Ship and no profit and no way home, so my opinion’s God-cursed important.”

There was a cry from the masthead, “Ho on the quarterdeck, the galley’s changing her course!” The galley had been heading straight for them but now she had swung a few points to port, out into the harbor.

Immediately Rodrigues shouted, “Action stations! Starboard watch aloft—all sails ho! Up anchor!” At once men rushed to obey.

“What’s amiss, Rodrigues?”

“I don’t know, Captain-General, but we’re getting out into open sea. That fat-gutted whore’s going to windward.”

“What does that matter? We can sink them at any time,” Ferriera said. “We’ve stores still to bring aboard and the Fathers have to go back to Osaka.”

“Aye. But no hostile’s getting to windward of my ship. That whore doesn’t depend on the wind, she can go against it. She might be coming round to hack at us from our bow where we’ve only one cannon and board us!”

Ferriera laughed contemptuously. “We’ve twenty cannon aboard! They’ve none! You think that filthy heathen pig boat would dare to try to attack us? You’re simple in the head!”

“Yes, Captain-General, that’s why I’ve still got one. The
Santa Theresa’s
ordered to sea!”

The sails were crackling out of their ropes and the wind took them, the spars grinding. Both watches were on deck at battle stations. The frigate began to make way but her going was slow. “Come on, you bitch,” Rodrigues urged.

“We’re ready, Don Ferriera,” the chief gunner said. “I’ve got her in my sights. I can’t hold her for long. Which is this Toranaga? Point him out!”

There were no flares aboard the galley; the only illumination came from the moonlight. The galley was still astern, a hundred yards off, but turned to port now and headed for the far shore, the oars dipping and falling in unbroken rhythm. “Is that the pilot? The tall man on the quarterdeck?”

“Yes,” Rodrigues said.

“Manuel and Perdito! Take him and the quarterdeck!” The cannon nearest made slight adjustments. “Which is this Toranaga? Quickly! Helmsmen, two points to starboard!”

“Two points to starboard it is, Gunner!”

Conscious of the sanding bottom and the shoals nearby, Rodrigues was watching the shrouds, ready at any second to override the chief gunner, who by custom had the con on a stern cannonade. “Ho, port maindeck cannon!” the gunner shouted. “Once we’ve fired we’ll let her fall off the wind. Drop all gun ports, prepare for a broadside!” The gun crews obeyed, their eyes going to the officers on the quarterdeck. And the priests. “For the love of God, Don Ferriera, which is this Toranaga?”

“Which is he, Father?” Ferriera had never seen him before.

Rodrigues had recognized Toranaga clearly on the foredeck in a ring of samurai, but he did not want to be the one to put the mark on him. Let the priests do that, he thought. Go on, Father, play the Judas. Why should we always do all the pox-foul work, not that I care a chipped doubloon for that heathen son of a whore.

Both priests were silent.

“Quick, which would Toranaga be?” the gunner asked again.

Impatiently Rodrigues pointed him out. “There, on the poop. The short, thickset bastard in the middle of those other heathen bastards.”

“I see him, Senhor Pilot.”

The gun crews made last slight adjustments.

Ferriera took the taper out of the gunner’s mate’s hand.

“Are you trained on the heretic?”

“Yes, Captain-General, are you ready? I’ll drop my hand. That’s the signal!”

“Good.”

“Thou shalt not kill!” It was dell’Aqua.

Ferriera whirled on him. “They’re heathens and heretics!”

“There are Christians among them and even if there weren’t—”

“Pay no attention to him, Gunner!” the Captain-General snarled. “We fire when you’re ready!”

Dell’Aqua went forward to the muzzle of the cannon and stood in the way. His bulk dominated the quarterdeck and the armed sailors that lay in ambush. His hand was on the crucifix. “I say,
Thou shalt not kill!”

“We kill all the time, Father,” Ferriera said.

“I know, and I’m ashamed of it and I beg God’s forgiveness for it.” Dell’Aqua had never before been on the quarterdeck of a fighting ship with primed guns, and muskets, and fingers on triggers, readying for death. “While I’m here there’ll be no killing and I’ll not condone killing from ambush!”

“And if they attack us? Try to take the ship?”

“I will beg God to assist us against them!”

“What’s the difference, now or later?”

Dell’Aqua did not answer. Thou shalt not kill, he thought, and Toranaga has promised everything, Ishido nothing.

“What’s it to be, Captain-General? Now’s the time!” the master gunner cried. “Now!”

Ferriera bitterly turned his back on the priests, threw down the taper and went to the rail. “Get ready to repel an attack,” he shouted. “If she comes within fifty yards uninvited, you’re all ordered to blow her to hell whatever the priests say!”

Rodrigues was equally enraged but he knew that he was as helpless as the Captain-General against the priest. Thou shalt not kill? By the blessed Lord Jesus, what about you? he wanted to shout. What about the auto da fé? What about the Inquisition? What about you priests who pronounce the sentence “guilty” or “witch” or “satanist” or “heretic”? Remember the two thousand witches burned in Portugal alone, the year I sailed for Asia? What about almost every village and town in Portugal and Spain, and the dominions visited and investigated by the Scourges of God, as the cowled Inquisitors proudly called themselves, the smell of burning flesh in their wake? Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, protect us!

He pushed his fear and loathing away and concentrated on the galley. He could just see Blackthorne and he thought, ah Ingeles, it’s good to see you, standing there holding the con, so tall and cocky. I was afraid you’d gone to the execution ground. I’m glad you escaped, but even so it’s lucky you don’t have a single little cannon aboard,
for then I’d blow you out of the water, and to hell with what the priests would say.

Oh, Madonna, protect me from a bad priest.

“Ahoy,
Santa Theresa!”

“Ahoy, Ingeles!”

“Is that you, Rodrigues?”

“Aye!”

“Thy leg?”

“Thy mother!”

Rodrigues was greatly pleased by the bantering laugh that came across the sea that separated them.

For half an hour the two ships had maneuvered for position, chasing, tacking, and falling away, the galley trying to get windward and bottle the frigate on a lee shore, the frigate to gain sea room to sail out of harbor if she desired. But neither had been able to gain an advantage, and it was during this chase that those aboard the frigate had seen the fishing boats crowding the mouth of the harbor for the first time and realized their significance.