Seas of Fortune(177)

“What about the local redwood timber?” asked David.

“Not valuable enough, at least for shipping across an ocean. But I suppose it helps a little. Better than dried fish, at least.”

Date Masamune snorted. “You sound like the stepmother in the story of the ‘Old Woman’s Skin.’ This rice is too soft. This rice is too hard.”

“I tell you exactly what I think, my lord.”

“I know, and I value your polite candor. For now, I think our best hope is the cinnabar.” Cinnabar, an ore of mercury, was used in the red lacquer of samurai armor, and in the red paint of major shrines. A little was mined in Japan, but it was mostly imported from China.

“Could we enter the sho-za?” asked David Date. In 1609, Odagiri Sukeshiro of Sakai had been given a monopoly on the cinnabar trade, the sho-za, most likely as a reward for espionage activity on behalf of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the present shogun’s grandfather.

The monopoly is only on the cinnabar itself, not the ink,” Masamune reminded him. “So at worst, we make the ink here. Or we sell the cinnabar to the Dutch, and send Dutch goods back home. We might even get a better price that way.” Recently, Date Masamune and his advisors had learned from the Dutch that the cinnabar could be roasted to liberate quicksilver, and that this could be used in the isolation of gold dust.

“Perhaps we should sell licenses to the Dutch to pan for gold, and sell them the cinnabar, too.”

“One day, I think we shall,” said Masamune. “And of course they know about the California Gold Rush. Thus far, their interest in the California gold country has only been mild, because it’s so hard to get to, and they figure it would take months if not years to actually find the gold. They have, I think, better prospects closer to home.

“Remember that words, once let loose, cannot be retrieved even by a team of four galloping horses. Once we tell them that we actually found the gold, and where to look, they will certainly come. And if we aren’t strong enough by then, they will just take the land from us.”





New Almaden, California





The arrow struck Brother Franciscus in the back as he fled. His companions paused, grabbed him under his arms, and half-carried, half-dragged him to safety. As they hid behind some rocks, they could hear the samurai lieutenant shouting orders, and the neighs of the horses as the samurai set out in pursuit of the Indians that had attacked the mining party.

The Ohlone woman First-to-Dance had told the Japanese about the Indians’ cinnabar mine in New Almaden, near the south end of San Francisco Bay. So Date Masamune had sent both soldiers and laborers there, to take control of it.

Before the coming of the Japanese, Indians traveled hundreds of miles to visit the mine and collect cinnabar for making face paint. To gain access, they had to first give presents to one of the nearby tribal groups, the Awaswas, Mutsun, or Tamyen. Now all three of those groups were shut out. And they weren’t happy about it.

* * *

Two samurai walked into the guard barracks beside the cinnabar mine; they had just come off watch. “There’s no getting around it,” said the junior soldier, Hasunuma Masayuki. “We need more leather armor. For the workmen, that is.” The Japanese had once used leather plates as part of their armor, but when firearms came into common use, they were mostly replaced with iron ones.

“The militia want it too,” his senior, Saito Nagato, reminded him. “And they have priority over miners.” The Dutch had told the Japanese about the Spanish soldados de cuera, the leather jacketed dragoons who defended New Spain’s Indian frontier. While the militia couldn’t hope to be given horses to ride—that was still a samurai prerogative—the cuera was a reasonable demand.

Leather was cheap in cattle-rich New Spain. But there were no cows in California, because they weren’t native, and the Japanese only brought a few breeding pairs. Their wagyu were used as beasts of burden, not as sources of milk or meat.

Hasunuma shrugged. “Well, then we are going to lose miners.”

“There’s nothing that can be done,” Saito told him. “It’s going to be almost a year before the Third Fleet arrives. That’s the soonest we can ask for more from home. And haven’t you read the new standing orders?”

“‘Economize!’”

Saito smiled. “That sums it up. Pass me the oil, please.” Saito carefully applied a few drops to a cloth, then commenced cleaning the blade of his katana.

“Here you go,” said Hasunuma. “Seriously, the Indian attacks are getting more frequent. It’s going to hurt cinnabar production.” The Indians were adept at crawling into bow range, and ambushing the workers. They had also stolen some of the samurai guards’ precious horses.