Seas of Fortune(142)

Matsuoka called for Hachizaemon.

“Yes, Matsuoka-san, how may I help you?”

Matsuoka explained.

“Well, I haven’t done it myself. But I have heard that the Spanish in Manila have a ‘silent trade’ with the Apoyno of Luzon.”

“Silent trade?”

“Yes, you leave goods out, and withdraw, and make a smoke signal or a drum beat or something of the sort. And then the second side comes and puts down something in exchange. And if the first side thinks this a good offer, they take it away, and leave their goods behind. And if they don’t, they wait for the second side to either add to what they put down, or take away what they last offered and thus end the bargaining.”

Matsuoka stroked his chin. “Now that you mention it, I think I have heard that the Ainu do such a thing with the even more savage barbarians of the islands to their north. But the problem is, we have no way to tell the Indians what we are interested in. They could put something out that is of great value to them, but worthless to us.”

“Forgive my impertinence in making this suggestion,” said Iroha, “but perhaps it doesn’t really matter what we receive, if we just set out a few goods that even we can spare. What we are really bargaining for is their trust.”

* * *

Matsuoka gave his final instructions to the chosen messengers, Saburo and his older brother, Jiro. “A great valley extends southeastward from the Bay. You should come, eventually, to a stream that flows from the northeast to the southwest. Or perhaps, you will find just a dry river bed, I can’t say for sure.” The stream that he had in mind was what the eighteenth-century Spanish called the San Benito River.

“It is perhaps eighty miles from where we stand. Count your paces.” Samurai were expected to be able to estimate marching distances.

“Turn down that river, it should pass through a low spot in the hills, and join another river.” That was the Pajaro. “Head southwest until you reach the sea.

“You should be on a great ocean bay, between two rocky points. Search between them until you find the Japanese colony. Then ask for the grand governor, Date Masamune.”

Hachizaemon gave them the spare ship’s compass. “You’ll have more use for this than we will.”

Matsuoka had some parting advice. “Oh, and Saburo-san—stay out of the mud, if you can.”





Late September 1634,

Monterey Bay, California





Monterey Bay is in the shape of a fishhook. The eye is at the northern end, at Point Año Nuevo, where elephant seals bellow at their rivals during the mating season. The Santa Cruz Mountains are the shank, their slopes a home for fog-loving redwoods. A nearly continuous stretch of white sandy beach forms the broad bend, with the mouth of the Salinas near the middle, and the rockier shore from the old time line city of Monterey to Point Piños, where the pine trees stand guard, is the barb.

A fair wind, blowing from the northwest, allowed the First Fleet, the motley collection of Dutch, Japanese and even hired Chinese ships carrying Japanese Christians into exile, to run almost downwind toward Monterey. The wary skippers gave a wide berth to the rocks of Point Piños, and slowly entered the bay.

Abel Tasman, commanding the Dutch jacht Mocha, was in the lead. When the waters shallowed out to thirty fathoms, the First Fleet naval commander ordered the fleet to reduce sail to just enough for headway, and Tasman was instructed to choose the anchorage.

When Tasman’s ship came within half a mile or so of the base of the barb, where it was partially sheltered by both Point Piños and Point Cabrillo, the wind slackened and the swell of the sea was broken. He sampled the bottom, finding it to be sand and yellowish mud, and likely to be good holding ground. He anchored in seven fathoms, and signaled for the fleet to join him.

Several parties of samurai were landed on the flat ground behind the anchorage. One went west, toward a hill covered by pine and oak. A second went southeast, finding an estuary fed by streams. The third stayed behind, to make sure that loose-fingered natives didn’t liberate the boats.

In the evening, their commander reported to Date Masamune.

“Our priorities are clear,” he said. “Fresh water. Food. Shelter. Not just from the elements, but also from unfriendly Indians. What have you found so far?”

“There is no good site for a fortress here,” said the scout leader. “The land near the anchorage is too low and flat. As for the hill to the west, it will take much time and labor to clear away the forest, and there is no good flat land at the top so we would have to build a foundation, too.”

“Nonetheless, we must have some kind of fort to protect the anchorage. Captain Tasman says that the rest of the bay is completely exposed. Tell me more about this estuary.”