The half-time whistle sounded, the score still two all, to be swallowed by a roar of recriminations and praises and promises of dire punishment for the losers. At once Marlowe moved over to Jamie. "Do you think Mr. Struan and, er, and Miss Angelique would like to join me aboard Pearl for tiffin and a day's sail?" he asked, simulating a sudden thought. "Have to do some trials, soon as the fleet's back and I'd be glad to have them aboard."

"I think they'd enjoy it, why don't you ask him?"

"When would be a good time?"

"Any day around eleven--or just before dinner."

"Thanks, thanks very much." Marlowe beamed, then noticed Jamie's pallor. "Oh, are you all right?"

"Yes, thanks." Jamie forced a smile and moved away.

He had been considering his future. Some weeks ago he had written to Maureen Ross, his fiancee, in Scotland, telling her to wait no longer for him--almost three years since he had last seen her, five years engaged--that he was sorry, he knew he had been abominable to keep her waiting so long but he was absolutely, finally convinced the East was positively no place for a lady, and equally certain Asia was his home, Yokohama, Hong Kong, Shanghai, anywhere but there, and he had no intention of leaving. Yes, he knew he had been unfair to her but their engagement was at an end. This was to be his last letter.

For days he had felt nauseated, before he wrote it, after having written it and after he had seen the mail ship put to sea. But he was sure.

That chapter was ended. And now the Struan chapter that was so rosy, promotion next year for certain, will also end. God Almighty! No way Malcolm will go back, so I've only a few more weeks to decide what to do--and don't forget Norbert will be back before then. Then what? Will they really duel? If they do that's joss but you've still got to protect Malcolm as best you can.

So a new job! Where? I'd like to stay here, there's Nemi, it's a good life with a wide-open future to build. Hong Kong and Shanghai are mostly built, the "Old Boy" structure strong in place--great if you're a Struan or Brock or Cooper and so on but difficult to break through.

First choice would be here. With whom? With Dmitri in Cooper-Tillman? Could they use me? Yes but not as top man. Brock's? Oh yes, I considered that in the depths of her unfairness, but no chance of top man with Norbert --but if Malcolm killed him what a coup that would be, what revenge! Lunkchurch? Yes, definitely, but who'd want to work for that uncouth bugger? What about on your own? That'd be best, but the riskiest and who'd sponsor you?

I'd need money, I've some put away but not enough. I'd need lots to begin, lots to cover the time agrowing, for letters of credit and insurances, time to arrange agents in London, San Francisco, Hong Kong, Shanghai and all over Asia, Paris--and St. Petersburg.

Don't forget Russians are huge buyers of tea and will trade sables and other furs to great profit and there are all your contacts in Russian Alaska, and their trading posts on the American west coast south. A good idea but risky, such a long time between buying and selling and profit, too many hazards for the ships, too many lost at sea or to piracy...

A little further away Phillip Tyrer was also staring into the distance. He was thinking about Fujiko and almost groaned aloud. Yesterday evening, with his friend Nakama--Hiraga--to help him, he had tried to begin negotiations for her exclusivity.

Mama-san Raiko's eyes had soared and shook her head saying, Oh so sorry, I doubt if it is possible, the girl so valuable and wanted by so many important gai-jin, important gai-jin, implying that even Sir William was an occasional client though never mentioning him by name, which had unsettled Tyrer and made him even more anxious.

Raiko said that even before discussing financial and other details, first she would ask Fujiko if she would consider it, adding to his shock that it would be best for him not to see her again until and unless a contract had been agreed. It had taken him another hour to reach a compromise that Nakama had suggested: in the interim period, when seeing Fujiko, he would never mention the matter or discuss it directly with her, that was the mama-san's responsibility.

Thank God for Nakama, he told himself in another sweat, I nearly messed up everything.

But for him...

His eyes focused and he saw Seratard and Andr`e Poncin deep in private conversation, and not far away from them, Erlicher, the Swiss Minister, was equally private with Johann, Johann concentrating on every word.

What's so important and urgent to those men, he asked himself, that they would discuss it at a football match, reminding himself not to daydream, to be adult and aware that all was not well in Japan, to do his duty to the Crown and Sir William--Fujiko could wait until tonight when he might get an answer.

Damn Johann! Now that the wily Swiss was leaving his post as interpreter it had put a further burden on him, leaving him little time to sleep or to play. Only this morning Sir William had flared, unfairly, he thought bitterly, "For God's sake, Phillip, put in more hours.

The sooner you're fluent the better for the Crown, the sooner Nakama is fluent in English the better for the Crown. Earn your daily bread, stop slacking, lean on Nakama, make him earn his daily bread too or out he goes!"

Hiraga was in the Legation reading a letter aloud that Tyrer had written for Sir William which he had helped translate, that was to be delivered tomorrow to the Bakufu. Though he did not understand many of the words his reading was improving rapidly: "You've an aptitude for English, Nakama, old boy," Tyrer had said several times. This had pleased him, even though, normally, praise or criticism from a gai-jin was meaningless. Over the weeks most of his waking hours had been spent cramming words and phrases, repeating them over and over, so much so that the language of his dreams was mixed up.

"Why bash your head, Cousin?"' Akimoto asked him.

"I must learn English as quickly as possible.

There is so little time, this gai-jin leader is rude and ill-tempered and I have no idea how long I can stay. But Akimoto, if I could read who knows what information I could get. You cannot believe how stupid they are about their secrets. Hundreds of books and pamphlets and documents lie around everywhere, I have access to everything, can read anything, and this Taira person answers my most obvious questions."

This was said last night in their safe house in the village and he had had a cold towel around his aching head. He was no longer confined to the Legation.

Now he could stay in the village if he wanted to though many nights he was too tired to leave, and he would stay and sleep on a spare bunk in the cottage Tyrer shared with Babcott. Of necessity George Babcott had had to know about him. "Marvelous! Nakama can help me with my Japanese too and my dictionary!

Marvelous, I'll organize lessons and a cram course!"

Babcott's approach was quite radical.

Learning was to be enjoyed and soon it had almost developed into a game, a hilarious game to see who could learn faster, an entirely new style for Hiraga and Tyrer, for whom schooling was serious, and education implanted by rote, repetition and the birch.

"How fast the lessons go, Akimoto. It becomes easier every day--we shall do the same in our schools when sonno-joi is supreme."

Akimoto laughed. "Teachers gentle and kind? No bashing or stick? Never! More important, what about the frigate?"' He had told Akimoto that Tyrer had promised he would ask a captain friend for permission to take the two of them aboard, explaining Akimoto as the son of a wealthy Choshu shipbuilding family, come to visit him for a few days, and a valuable friend in the future.

From the open window Hiraga heard cheering from the football match. He sighed, then reverently picked up Babcott's handwritten dictionary.