“To the Kwakwaka’wakw nobility, ‘face’ is very important. By taking him hostage, you offered him an unforgiveable insult.”
Tokubei’s skin reddened slightly. “What about the insult he offered me by enslaving my countrymen?”
“He will see only the injury to himself. He will work himself up into a rage, then come after you.”
“Hmm . . . Did you hear that, Captain?”
“I did indeed,” said Haruno, who was standing nearby. “Do the Kwakwaka’wakw know where Nippon is?”
“Far away, in the direction of the setting sun, I told them long ago.”
“Then let’s pretend to be heading straight back home,” Haruno decided. He gave orders to bring the ship about. The Ieyasu Maru couldn’t sail close enough to the wind to head directly west, but it could manage a southwest course. It headed out to sea, its prow knifing through the swells, and then, as soon as the land was out of sight, it cut southeastward.
“Wish this wind were stronger,” said Tokubei.
“Better than no wind at all,” said Haruno. “Wouldn’t want those big war canoes to be able to catch up with us. Especially at night.”
But daylight offered its own problems. If the Kwakwaka’wakw canoes followed they would be able to see the tall masts of the Ieyasu Maru, from perhaps six miles off—farther, at any rate, than the Ieyasu Maru’s lookouts could see them. And in summer, sunset would come late in these northern parts.
About seven miles out, Haruno ordered a sharp turn to port, bringing them to an east-southeast heading. The lookouts thought that there might be a bay in that direction. Haruno also had the upper sails furled; the ship would catch less wind, but since they were heading almost directly to leeward their speed wouldn’t be reduced, and with the upper masts naked, they would be quite a bit harder to see. Fortuitously, the sky was overcast, so they wouldn’t be strongly silhouetted.
After sailing another five or six miles, the Ieyasu Maru slipped into San Josef Bay. It was now hidden from pursuit by a headland—provided, of course, that the canoes had not been able to spot it after the course change. If they did, then the hills that were now shielding it would also break up the wind, making it more difficult for the Ieyasu Maru to sail away again.
* * *
The first thing the chief had done upon reaching the beach was to ask a nearby commoner for a weapon. With it, he immediately killed the two slave paddlers who had taken him back from the Ieyasu Maru, and thus had seen his embarrassment close-up.
He told the now trembling commoner who had loaned him the weapon to keep an eye on the Ieyasu Maru, then stormed into his house, and remained there for a time. When he emerged, he was wearing war paint.
It took time, of course, for him to assemble and harangue his tribesmen, and then for them to prepare for war. By that point, the Ieyasu Maru had been several hours gone. However, the watcher was able to tell the war party what course it had taken.
Speaking eagerly of the glory and booty they would soon enjoy, the warriors pushed the war canoes into the water, hopped in, and started rowing. They were the Nakomgilisala of the Kwakwaka’wakw, who raided as far south as California.
How much farther away could this island of Nippon be?
* * *
Coal torches burned as the sentries on the Ieyasu Maru kept watch for a night attack.
Heishiro had been brought to the captain’s cabin.
“So, please tell me your story,” said Haruno. “I don’t want to get it secondhand from Tokubei.” He gave Tokubei an apologetic smile, so he wouldn’t be offended.
“My name is Heishiro. Our ship was Yahiko Maru, a sengoku-bune.” That meant a ship that could carry a thousand koku of rice, about 150 tons in European measurement. “I had on board my wife and two children, and a dozen sailors.
“We began at Osaka with a cargo of rice, and, as we went along the coast, we sold off rice and took on other cargos. Fortunately, we still had a lot of rice, seaweed, and other food when the storm came upon us, off Cape Shiono.”
“When was that?”
“In the month of falling frost, the first year of Kan’ei.” November 1624, by Western reckoning.
“When we saw the storm clouds, we tried to make for shore, but we couldn’t find an anchorage, or even a safe place to beach the ship. The winds rose, and the waves tossed us about, and it became too dangerous to remain near the coast. So we returned to the open sea, and reduced sail, but even there the storm was too much for us. A great wave overtook us, and we grabbed hold of whatever we could, lest we be washed overboard. We heard a terrible snapping sound, and, when we could see again, our hanaita was gone.” The hanaita was the rudder, a giant nine feet by twelve on a sengoku-bune.