They were less happy to be under Haruno and Tokubei’s command, but they would follow Date Masamune’s orders to obey them. At least, Tokubei hoped so.
“So, which of the villages do we check out first?” asked Haruno.
“The one on the west coast,” Tokubei answered. “If it’s the right one, then it won’t take us out of the way.”
Before long, a lookout shouted, “Houses. I see houses.”
Tokubei had a Dutch telescope, one of the few in Japan, and he was studying the beach in front of the village. “Lot of commotion down there . . .
“Looks like someone is coming out of the biggest house, wearing some kind of fancy costume. He’s dancing now. At least I hope he’s dancing and not having a fit of some kind.
“Okay, he’s gone down to one of the canoes. Kwannon have mercy upon us, it’s big. Lots of paddlers getting in behind Dancing Man. Okay, they’re rowing out to us.”
“Weapons?” asked Yoritaki.
“None that I can see. Of course, they could club us with those paddles.”
Yoritaki snorted. Kinzo had a pivot gun trained on the canoe. He could sink it with a single shot, if need be. And if the paddlers tried to board, they would wish they hadn’t. Of course, no one knew what weapons the rest of the villagers might have.
The canoe pulled up alongside the Ieyasu Maru, and the Dancing Man danced once again. There was a platform, apparently for this purpose, on the front of the canoe.
“Tokubei, you may invite him on board, if you think it advisable.” said Haruno. It was part of the delicate dance of command aboard the Ieyasu Maru; Haruno was responsible for the ship, but Tokubei was in charge of all negotiations with natives, and Yoritaka would take charge if there were any hand-to-hand combat, on deck or on land.
* * *
Tokubei checked his short sword, the wakizashi, to make sure that it was in place, and would neither get in his way while walking nor be too difficult to draw if he needed it. In Japan, he was considered a commoner, and as such would only be allowed to carry a sword when traveling, and then only after obtaining a license from the authorities. But Date Masamune had told him that once Japan had disappeared below the horizon, the Sword Edict of Hideyoshi did not apply.
Which meant that once again, at least in New Nippon, commoners could be part-time warriors, and samurai could be part-time farmers.
Not that Tokubei was all that confident about his ability to use the sword. He was more apt to rely on the brace of handguns he was carrying. He would, if possible, leave swordsmanship to the samurai on board.
Of course, having samurai along was something of a mixed blessing. He had great faith in their fighting ability. What he wasn’t sure about was whether they would follow the orders of a commoner as to whether or not to fight . . . despite Date Masamune’s instructions that Tokubei, given his breadth of exposures to foreign cultures, would be in charge of negotiations.
“Let down a rope ladder, but be prepared to haul it up again quickly if I say so.” The rope ladder went down, and Tokubei pointed to the Dancing Man and then held up a single finger.
The canoe edged closer to the ship, and Dancing Man grabbed hold of the ladder. He pulled himself agilely onto the first rung, and quickly ascended.
Tokubei addressed him in Japanese, Chinese, Dutch, Portuguese and several other Asian languages. The Indian responded with an equal lack of intelligibility.
Tokubei noticed that a seagull had landed on deck. “Someone, give me an arquebus.” A sailor handed him one. Tokubei loaded the gun, smiled at the Indian, and fired at the bird. Crack! It fell over, dead. The Indian froze, obviously terrified. Tokubei carefully set down the gun behind him, and reached into a pouch. He pulled out a necklace of glass beads, put it on for a moment, then took it off and set it down on the deck. Then Tokubei backed away, and motioned toward the beads.
Ever so slowly, the Indian walked forward, then stooped to pick up the beads, all the while watching Tokubei. Then he backed up himself, until he felt the rail behind him, and stopped. He looked over the trinket, smiled, and put the necklace around his own neck. Then he took off his cloak and tossed it in Tokubei’s direction.
Tokubei put it on. As he did so, Yoritaki swore.
Tokubei looked at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Look what the chief’s wearing.” Tokubei realized, all at once, what Yoritaka was reacting to. The Indian’s ornaments included what appeared to be pierced copper discs, strung on a string of some kind. And there was something oddly familiar about them . . .
“Yoritaka, be ready to grab him on my say-so, or if he tries to leave.”
Tokubei pulled out a copper coin from his own pouch, and held it out for the chief. The chief came closer, and Tokubei handed it to him. As he did so, Tokubei got a better look at the chief’s discs. They were one-mon coins; Tokubei could see the kanji. They had holes so they could be strung together.