De Veer explained what he had heard. The Japanese man looked puzzled for a moment. And then he started to laugh.
* * *
“Well?” asked Captain Campen.
“He said that they didn’t need a physician,” said de Veer, his tone one of profound disgust. “But that if would be a kindness to summon one of the Great Lord’s master gardeners.”
“What?”
De Veer explained that according to his informant, the “poor little ones” that were “dead” or “dying” were silkworms. The word for silkworm—kaiko—also meant child raising. The women of many Japanese villages cultivated silkworms as a sideline, and indeed spoke to them as if they were little children.
The villagers on board the Blauwe Draeck had brought silkworm eggs, and freshly collected mulberry leaves. After five weeks or so, the silkworms had spun their cocoons. The best of these were reserved for breeding, and the others were thrown into hot water to kill the insect, and then spun into thread.
The problem had come with the eggs of the second generation. They hatched, but the remaining mulberry leaves were now old, and the tiny jaws of the new larvae weren’t equal to the task of chewing them. So most had died.
The captain, all a smile, asked de Veer if he thought that the Japanese would be comforted if the captain conducted a memorial service for the departed. De Veer rolled his eyes. “May I return to my duties, sir?”
The captain waved him off, and de Veer fled, the captain’s laughter ringing in his ears, already red and burning hot with embarrassment.
Coast of Vancouver Island
The Ieyasu Maru’s next destination was Nootka Sound. While the atlas said nothing about any mineral deposits there, the copied atlas showed it to be home to an up-time town with a most intriguing name: Gold River.
By rounding Vancouver Island on the ocean side, the Japanese had avoided the narrow channels and tide rips of the Inside Passage, but guaranteed themselves ample exposure to the caprices of Susanoo. The wind, normally blowing from the northwest, backed around the compass until it was from the southeast, and increased to gale force, blocking the Ieyasu Maru’s sojourn down the coast.
It was only through skilled seamanship that the Ieyasu Maru avoided becoming the second Japanese shipwreck on Vancouver Island. By the time the storm abated, and the wind returned to the northwest, the Ieyasu Maru was well south of Nootka Sound. Indeed, they were at about the latitude of the Straits of Juan de Fuca, which separated Vancouver Island from the up-time state of Washington.
Captain Haruno summoned Tokubei. “I think we have to give up on Gold River for this year.”
Tokubei winced. “Our patrons will be disappointed.”
“You saw how it was on our approach to Vancouver Island. We had winds from the northwest, day after day, for at least a hundred ri. So we’d have to sail way offshore, then work our way north and east, as the winds permitted. It could take weeks. Is it really worth it? Our rescued countrymen say that the weather will take a turn for worse once summer’s over. So going to Gold River might mean losing our chance at Texada.”
“Well . . .” Tokubei shifted his weight as the ship reacted to a larger wave than usual. “Texada is important. Both the atlas and the encyclopedia say it has iron. And we have nothing definitive indicating that there is actually gold at Gold River.”
“Might be a poetic fancy, neh? So named because of the silt in the river gives it a yellow color. Like the Hwang Ho, the Yellow River, in China.”
“Yes. Or when the first European explorer saw it, it was gleaming in the sunlight.”
“All right, then. We’ll set course for Texada.”
August 1634,
On the Date Maru
“Munesane.”
The young samurai bowed. “Father.”
Date Masamune gestured for him to take a cup of tea from a nearby tray. “Your tutors have been pleased with your progress. However, it is time to step up your education with regard to matters of statecraft, as it is surely only a few years before you must succeed me as the Lord of New Nippon.”
“May the buddhas and kamis grant you a long life!”
“They already have done so. I am sixty-nine years old, nearing autumn’s close. Back home, as my sixth son, you would not have had much chance of being given the opportunity to rule a han. Here, you do. . . . The question is whether you can hold it.
The old warlord inhaled the steam coming from his own cup, then took a sip. “Ah, we must enjoy this while our supply lasts. I wonder if tea can be grown in New Nippon? Well, back to my line of inquiry—what threats must you overcome?”
Munesane thought about this. “Most immediately, the kirishitan. They might seek to overthrow the Date family and choose a Christian ruler. The king of Spain, even.”