Vinck looked back at Blackthorne. “What about Portuguese, Pilot? Did you see any around?”
“No. There were no signs of them in the village.”
“They’ll swarm here soon as they know about us.” Maetsukker said it for all of them and the boy Croocq let out a moan.
“Yes, and if there’s one priest, there’s got to be others.” Ginsel licked dry lips. “And then their God-cursed conquistadores are never far away.”
“That’s right,” Vinck added uneasily. “They’re like lice.”
“Christ Jesus! Papists!” someone muttered. “And conquistadores!”
“But we’re in the Japans, Pilot?” van Nekk asked. “He told you that?”
“Yes. Why?”
Van Nekk moved closer and dropped his voice. “If priests are here, and some of the natives are Catholic, perhaps the other part’s true—about the riches, the gold and silver and precious stones.” A hush fell on them. “Did you see any, Pilot? Any gold? Any gems on the natives, or gold?”
“No. None.” Blackthorne thought a moment. “I don’t remember seeing any. No necklaces or beads or bracelets. Listen, there’s something else to tell you. I went aboard Erasmus but she’s sealed up.” He related what had happened and their anxiety increased.
“Jesus, if we can’t go back aboard and there are priests ashore and Papists . . . We’ve got to get away from here.” Maetsukker’s voice began to tremble. “Pilot, what are we going to do? They’ll burn us! Conquistadores—those bastards’ll shove their swords . . .”
“We’re in God’s hands,” Jan Roper called out confidently. “He will protect us from the anti-Christ. That’s His promise. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Blackthorne said, “The way the samurai Omi-san snarled at the priest—I’m sure he hated him. That’s good, eh? What I’d like to know is why the priest wasn’t wearing their usual robes. Why the orange one? I’ve never seen that before.”
“Yes, that’s curious,” van Nekk said.
Blackthorne looked up at him. “Maybe their hold here isn’t strong. That could help us greatly.”
“What should we do, Pilot?” Ginsel asked.
“Be patient and wait till their chief, this daimyo, comes. He’ll let us go. Why shouldn’t he? We’ve done them no harm. We’ve goods to trade. We’re not pirates, we’ve nothing to fear.”
“Very true, and don’t forget the Pilot said the savages aren’t all Papists,” van Nekk said, more to encourage himself than the others. “Yes. It’s good the samurai hated the priest. And it’s only the samurai who are armed. That’s not so bad, eh? Just watch out for the samurai and get our weapons back—that’s the idea. We’ll be aboard before you know it.”
“What happens if this daimyo’s Papist?” Jan Roper asked.
No one answered him. Then Ginsel said, “Pilot, the man with the sword? He cut the other wog into pieces, after chopping his head off?”
“Yes.”
“Christ! They’re barbarians! Lunatics!” Ginsel was tall, a good-looking youth with short arms and very bowed legs. The scurvy had taken all his teeth. “After he chopped his head off, the others just walked away? Without saying anything?”
“Yes.”
“Christ Jesus, an unarmed man, murdered, just like that? Why’d he do it? Why’d he kill him?”
“I don’t know, Ginsel. But you’ve never seen such speed. One moment the sword was sheathed, the next the man’s head was rolling.”
“God protect us!”
“Dear Lord Jesus,” van Nekk murmured. “If we can’t get back to the ship . . . God damn that storm, I feel so helpless without my spectacles!”
“How many samurai were aboard, Pilot?” Ginsel asked.
“Twenty-two were on deck. But there were more ashore.”
“The wrath of God will be upon the heathen and on sinners and they’ll burn in hell for all eternity.”
“I’d like to be sure of that, Jan Roper,” Blackthorne said, an edge to his voice, as he felt the fear of God’s vengeance sweep through the room. He was very tired and wanted to sleep.
“You can be sure, Pilot, oh yes, I am. I pray that your eyes are opened to God’s truth. That you come to realize we’re here only because of you—what’s left of us.”
“What?” Blackthorne said dangerously.
“Why did you really persuade the Captain-General to try for the Japans? It wasn’t in our orders. We were to pillage the New World, to carry the war into the enemy’s belly, then go home.”
“There were Spanish ships south and north of us and nowhere else to run. Has your memory gone along with your wits? We had to sail west—it was our only chance.”
“I never saw enemy ships, Pilot. None of us did.”
“Come now, Jan,” van Nekk said wearily. “The Pilot did what he thought best. Of course the Spaniards were there.”
“Aye, that’s the truth, and we was a thousand leagues from friends and in enemy waters, by God!” Vinck spat. “That’s the God’s truth—and the God’s truth was we put it to a vote. We all said yes.”
“I didn’t.”
Sonk said, “No one asked me.”
“Oh, Christ Jesus!”
“Calm down, Johann,” van Nekk said, trying to ease the tension. “We’re the first ones to reach the Japans. Remember all the stories, eh? We’re rich if we keep our wits. We have trade goods and there’s gold here—there must be. Where else could we sell our cargo? Not there in the New World, hunted and harried! They were hunting us and the Spaniards knew we were off Santa Maria. We had to quit Chile and there was no escape back through the Strait—of course they’d be lying in wait for us, of course they would! No, here was our only chance and a good idea. Our cargo exchanged for spices and gold and silver, eh? Think of the profit—a thousandfold, that’s usual. We’re in the Spice Islands. You know the riches of the Japans and Cathay, you’ve heard about them forever. We all have. Why else did we all sign on? We’ll be rich, you’ll see!”
“We’re dead men, like all the others. We’re in the land of Satan.”
Vinck said angrily, “Shut your mouth, Roper! The Pilot did right. Not his fault the others died—not his fault. Men always die on these voyages.”
Jan Roper’s eyes were flecked, the pupils tiny. “Yes, God rest their souls. My brother was one.”
Blackthorne looked into the fanatic eyes, hating Jan Roper. Inside he was asking himself if he had really sailed west to elude the enemy ships. Or was it because he was the first English pilot through the Strait, first in position, ready and able to stab west and therefore first with the chance of circumnavigating?
Jan Roper hissed, “Didn’t the others die through your ambition, Pilot? God will punish you!”
“Now hold your tongue.” Blackthorne’s words were soft and final.
Jan Roper stared back with the same frozen hatchet face, but he kept his mouth shut.
“Good.” Blackthorne sat tiredly on the floor and rested against one of the uprights.
“What should we do, Pilot?”
“Wait and get fit. Their chief is coming soon—then we’ll get everything settled.”
Vinck was looking out into the garden at the samurai who sat motionless on his heels beside the gateway. “Look at that bastard. Been there for hours, never moves, never says anything, doesn’t even pick his nose.”
“He’s been no trouble though, Johann. None at all,” van Nekk said.
“Yes, but all we’ve been doing is sleeping and fornicating and eating the swill.”
“Pilot, he’s only one man. We’re ten,” Ginsel said quietly.
“I’ve thought of that. But we’re not fit enough yet. It’ll take a week for the scurvy to go,” Blackthorne replied, disquieted. “There are too many of them aboard ship. I wouldn’t like to take on even one without a spear or gun. Are you guarded at night?”