"Thank you. And please see my guarantor gets this safely." He gave him a small scroll. It was a painstakingly coded farewell note to his mother and father, telling them his plan, and giving them news about Sumomo. For safety it contained no real names. In English he said, "Taira-sama, ready. Here finish."
"Ready, Jamie?" Tyrer asked, feeling peculiar, nauseous, not knowing if it was caused by excitement or fright, tiredness or despair.
Since the fire, every few minutes Fujiko's face would weld up from his subconscious, screaming and in flames. "Best hurry, Otami-sama," he said to Hiraga. Both had agreed never to use Hiraga or Nakama again.
"Pull your cap more over your face. Domo, shoya, mataneh." Thank you, shoya, good night.
He went out on to the street again. When it was safe he signalled the others. "You lead, Jamie," he whispered. In sudden panic they slid into the shadows as a Grenadier patrol approached and passed by. Breathing once more Tyrer muttered, "They're on the watch for looters, thieves, wakarimasu ka?"
"Wakarimasu."
Once more Jamie hurried ahead, turned and twisted through the rubble towards the jetty on the other side of the promenade, near the site where the Guardian building had stood. Many men were wandering about, gawking at the damage to the village and Yoshiwara and Drunk Town, or just numb, too early to sleep yet. Recognizing some of them, he slowed his pace, not wanting to attract attention. Dmitri was amongst them, heading homewards, and he smiled wryly. This morning Dmitri, beaming, had sought him out to say he had found Nemi in the early hours and that she was all right, just a few bruises and hardly touched.
"Thank God for that, Dmitri."
"The first thing she said was, Jami-san okay? I said yes and she gave me a hug for you. Then I gave her your message, that you'd find her as soon as possible."
"Thanks, that's a load off my mind. I was afraid she was a goner. Eventually I found her Inn but it was a heap of ash, our house included.
Never did find anyone... Thank God."
"You remember what I--"' "I remember, but first I've got to talk to her. She's not a piece of furniture, for God's sake."
"Hey, easy old buddy, perish the thought, didn't mean to imply anything..."
Jamie sighed, picking his way through the wreckage of a sak`e still, now not far from the promenade. Dmitri's a good enough fellow, he thought, but Nemi was special and... "Oh my God, look!" He pointed. A group of weary samurai fire fighters were squatting around a bonfire beside the jetty, brewing tea. Quickly he weighed the alternatives. There were none. "Can't help it, come on."
As they reached the promenade Lunkchurch reeled out of the darkness. "Jamie," he said dully, "wot you going to do? You're wiped out like me..." He glanced at Phillip, hardly noticing the other two. They looked like ordinary Asian seamen of a type abundant in the merchant fleet. "It's a bastard..."
"Maybe it won't be so bad, Barnaby, I've a few ideas, I'll find you tomorrow."
Jamie brushed past and walked for the jetty, raised his hat politely to the fire fighters and their officer who absently acknowledged them. The rickety jetty pilings and its wooden walkway went fifty metres into the sea. His heart sank. No waiting cutter, and none approaching from the Struan jetty, to the north. Out in the bay Atlanta Belle was alight, swarming with rowboats arriving and leaving.
Earlier this afternoon Jamie had asked MacStruan if he could borrow the cutter for a quick trip this evening to see the captain of the Belle, Johnny Twomast, an old friend.
Phillip, after leaving Sir William who had confirmed Hiraga's supposed death, had rushed over to see him. Stumbling over his words with excitement, Phillip told him, to his delight, that Hiraga was alive, hidden in a Drunk Town well, how the man had saved his life last night, laying out his scheme to save him. "We just sneak him aboard the Belle and no one's the wiser."
"He's alive? I'd heard about him dying in the fire--he's alive?"' "Yes. All we have to do is sneak him aboard."
"I'll ask Johnny Twomast to hide them but only if you get Willie's approval.
Hiraga is still a murd--"' "Hiraga's dead, Nakama, Hiraga, it's all the same, officially. Willie said it, the Sergeant confirmed his death in the fire.
Nakama's dead and gone forever, so's Hiraga.
Getting him out on a ship is the perfect solution and he's worth saving! We're only helping two samurai students to see the world, our world, for a year or so, one of them called Otami."
"If we get caught, Willie will spit blood, our blood."
"There's no reason we should. Otami is Otami, it's his real name and he's told me about you and the shoya cooking up all sorts of business deals, you'll be the winner when he comes back, we all will. We've got to help him!"
Finally Jamie had agreed and had seen the shoya to arrange the loan that he had also guaranteed. By then it was sunset. At sunset Tyrer had gone to the well to prepare Hiraga and Akimoto and now they waited on the jetty.
"Where's the cutter Jamie?" Tyrer said nervously.
"It'll arrive." Feeling highly exposed, the four men waited at the end of the jetty near the wobbly, seaweed slicked steps, all too aware of the nearby samurai, their captain idly swaggering up and down.
Hiraga whispered, "Taira-sama, that captain, remember? He Enforcer. Remember him, captain at gate?"
"What gate?"
"In Yedo. At your Big House in Yedo.
When first meet."
"Oh my God!" Now it poured back--the tough samurai who had insisted on searching the Legation when they had been surrounded and locked in before the evacuation, Hiraga escaping on a stretcher disguised as a smallpox sufferer.
"What's up now?" Jamie said. Tyrer told him. Over Tyrer's shoulder he could see the officer glance at them. His anxiety increased.
"He's too bloody curious."
"I recognize him now," Tyrer was saying.
"We'd better... Look, there she is!" The cutter was chugging out of the dark, her riding lights on but dim. The Bosun waved, they waved back. Waves against the pilings threw shards of spray at them.
"Get aboard, quick as you can," Jamie said, his excitement increasing. Phillip had convinced him Hiraga was not an assassin but a fighter for freedom and, for himself, he already had seen how useful Hiraga had been. Now he was even more sure how valuable an English-speaking shishi and friend would be in the future, particularly one who had been guided and helped by him--he had prepared a dossier of people to meet in England and Scotland, where to go, what to see that he was going to explain before the ship sailed.
Phillip's a genius, he chortled, glanced back at him and drew in breath sharply. Behind Tyrer he saw the Japanese officer strolling towards their jetty. "My God, the bugger's coming for us!" They gaped at the man, took a quick look at the cutter. No way could she arrive before he did. "We're done for."
Hiraga had already decided the same. He tore at the kimonos covering their swords.
"Akimoto, we kill him."
"Wait! Here!" Urgently Tyrer handed Hiraga a large envelope that contained letters of introduction to his father and uncle, also a solicitor, and to the dean of his university. "I was going to explain them on the cutter," he said hurriedly, "no time now, Jamie, you do it for me." He looked at Hiraga deeply a last time and stuck out his hand. "Thanks, I'll always be your friend, come back safely." He felt the strong grip, saw for an instant a smile, then turned and in a cold sweat went to meet the enemy.
The captain had already covered half the jetty when Tyrer planted himself in the middle of the planks and bowed with great formality. A grunt, the man hesitated, his hand on his long sword, then bowed back. When he tried to pass Tyrer bowed again and said in his best Japanese, deliberately ponderous, "Ah Sir Officer, I want say you how samurai men good fight fire.