Of course, if there were Japanese survivors, they might have reason to be wary. From a distance, the Ieyasu Maru looked like a Dutch ship. That was no accident; it was nearly a copy of the 120 ton Good Fortune that William Adams had built for then-Shogun Ieyasu in 1610. The Good Fortune, in turn, was a slightly scaled-down version of Der Liefde, the ship in which Adams had come to Japan. The Good Fortune itself no longer existed; it had been loaned to the shipwrecked ex-governor of the Philippines, Rodrigo de Vivero y Velasco, to return him to New Spain, and the viceroy of New Spain had ordered its destruction. Probably muttering something to the effect that the Japanese ought to stay on their own side of the Pacific.
The only concession the builders of the Ieyasu Maru had made to Japanese maritime traditions was that the hull, like that of a junk, was divided into many watertight compartments. This was less convenient for stowing bulky cargo, but handy for surviving a holing. Not that this sturdy construction had saved the unfortunate junk that lay before them.
The Ieyasu Maru eased its way closer to the isthmus, and then lowered a launch. Tokubei was ready to get in, when Hosoya Yoritaki stopped him. Yoritaki was commander of the samurai “marines” that the Ieyasu Maru was blessed, or cursed, with. “You may go along, but first my men check to make sure it’s safe.”
Tokubei nodded and Yoritaki gestured for three of his samurai to enter. All were armed with handguns. One, after noting the openness of the land, took a naginata along, too. All had swords, too, but that was a given. You might as well note that they were wearing clothing, too. Once the samurai were settled, Tokubei leaped in, and the launch made its way toward the wreckage.
The samurai disembarked first. Oyamada Isamu, shouldering the naginata, took up a sentry position, facing inland, while the other two circled the wreckage. Satisfied that it was free of threat, they climbed to the top of Cape Scott. They looked around, and then one came back downhill.
“No one in the immediate area, but there are native villages to the east and south. Haru will fire if he sees a threat.”
“Thank you, Masaru-san,” said Tokubei. “Please join Isamu-san on guard.”
Tokubei and his coxswain Kinzo made their way around to where the deck had been. Most of the decking was gone, so they had a clear view into the interior of the ship.
Tokubei made a few interesting observations. First, there were no skeletons. That told him that there must have been survivors, and that either at sea or after landing, they had disposed of the bodies of any less fortunate crewmen.
Second, there was nothing of value left on board. Either it had all been consumed during the voyage, or, more likely, the survivors had taken everything. That implied that they had been in reasonable health.
Third, the wreck was Japanese, beyond question. Every surviving aspect of its construction was typical of a large cargo ship of traditional Japanese design.
Finally, there was no seaweed on the underwater part of the hull. Clearly, it had been out of the water long enough for the seaweed to die and rot away. That suggested that the wreck had been here for a long time, and thus could not be one of the ships of the First Fleet. And that was a relief.
Tokubei and Kinzo collected a few small items, to show to Captain Haruno, and strode back to the launch. They waved Isamu down, and then Masaru and Haru cautiously retreated to the launch. A couple of crewmen pushed the boat back into the surf and then jumped in. Once he was on the deck of the Ieyasu Maru, Tokubei made his report.
“These sailors were clearly Nihonjin,” Tokubei told Haruno, “we must find them if we can.”
“Man the guns,” Captain Haruno ordered. “Archers and arquebus-men, to the rails. Prepare to repel boarders.” Even the miners grabbed spears. “But not one shot unless and until I give the command, or I’ll feed you to the sharks!”
* * *
Haruno was worried about those the native villages. According to the Dutch—who in turn drew on unnamed up-time sources—the Indians of the Pacific Northwest built seagoing canoes that could hold more than sixty people, took slaves, and, some of them—the Tlingit farther north, at least—had wooden armor. All of which suggested that the crewmen of the Ieyasu Maru weren’t going to be greeted by lithe Indian maidens gaily tossing chrysanthemum petals.
Because of the importance of the Ieyasu Maru’s mission, there were more than a dozen samurai on board. Until a few months ago, they had been ronin, masterless warriors, but they were accepted into the service of Date Masumune, grand governor of New Nippon. All were unmarried men who had chafed at the peacetime restrictions, and were happy to be offered the opportunity to fight, even in a faraway land.