A general movement for the door began and he bellowed with a voice huge for such a thin man, "I haven't finished, by God! Next, certain ill-advised, foolish people believe the wisest course is to abandon our foothold here. Her Majesty's Government has no intention of leaving. None-what-so-ever." Arguments to the contrary began but he overrode them coldly. "Next, you are required to assist each other like British gentlemen and..."

"Wot about the bloody Yanks?" someone shouted to jeers and cheers for and against.

"Them too," he called back, his humor returned. "A few of them are, and many more could be." More laughter. "So act like gentlemen and rebuild as fast as possible. That's important. We must confirm our position here because, last, most seriously, there are rumors the fire was arson."

"That's right, my musume said it were."

"One likely report is that the arsonist was the samurai, Nakama, the fellow wanted by the Bakufu as a revolutionary though Mr. Tyrer and I--and Mr. McFay I believe--I found him pleasant, no threat and a vast source of information."

"That's right," Jamie said, refreshed by Maureen's tenderness. "I don't believe he could be an arsonist, least that's what I think."

"Be that as it may, we know for a fact he's dead and he was caught in suspicious circumstances. Everyone must be on their toes in case it was arson, personally I'm not convinced, but if the fire was an act of violence against us there will be others, if an Act of God, well, that's His privilege..."

"Amen," many said, so thankful to be alive.

"... so be aware of possible danger but let us act as normal and get back to work. Thank you, good day."

"What about the Yoshiwara, an' Mrs.Fortheringill's?"

Sir William blinked. Good God, I must be getting old, he thought, the problem of the Yoshiwara had not occurred to him, when it was what made Japan bearable, even desirable to most men. "Mrs. Fortheringill's will certainly be well covered by insurance. As to the first...

We'll start a fund right now. For one week.

I'll open it with twenty guineas and, well, because it's part of our disaster area, Her Majesty's Government will match, pound for pound all contributions."

To more cheers and backslapping he chatted briefly with the other Ministers, telling them, to their surprise, the Yoshi meeting was on, that he and Seratard would deal with Yoshi, but would they dine with him tonight for a private meeting. On the promenade he mopped his brow. Satisfied, he started for home.

"Hey, look!" someone called out behind him.

He turned, and watched in wonder, and envy, with others leaving the Club.

In the desolate area where the village had been, now the whole location swarmed with industrious men women and children, working and cleaning up with an antlike zeal towards the same goal; to re-create that which had disappeared. Two houses, roofed and shoji-walled, were already erected, others half up. Many were carrying new lumber and shoji walls from a pile already established outside the South Gate.

Pity our fellows aren't as quick off the mark, he thought, awed and saw, the other side of the moat, across the repaired bridge, the Bridge to Paradise, more activity, and a temporary gateway already up, swaying in the breeze.

From here he could read the cherished, well-remembered Chinese characters on it--the English translation already scrawled there too, looking somehow quaint in calligraphy: Lust cannot wait, it must be satisfied.

That afternoon, the sea fair, sky uneasy, the Struan cutter turned for her Yokohama berth, returning from the Kanagawa-Yoshi meeting.

Sir William's pennant fluttered from the masthead. Those in the cabin, Sir William, Seratard, and Tyrer dozed--Tyrer like a dead man. The Bosun tooted his whistle to ask cutters crowding their dock to move out of the way but there were loud shouts of "Wait your bloody turn," with a variety of profanity as punctuation.

Sir William opened his eyes, called up the Bosun, "Drop us at the Brock wharf," and when the Bosun suggested the Mr. MacStruan wouldn't like that at all, Sir William bellowed, "Do what you're told!" The others jerked out of sleep. Except Tyrer who mumbled and drifted off again.

Seratard stretched and stifled a yawn. "Grand lunch, William, good fish," adding in French without noticing it, "I would have preferred a garlic butter and parsley sauce. Never mind, your chef is English so what can he do?"

"He's Chinese," Sir William said, good-naturedly.

The meeting had gone exactly as he had planned. There had been none. They had arrived on time, waited half an hour, then sent for the local Governor, Tyrer saying they could not understand where Lord Yoshi had got to: "Is he sick?"' "Ah so sorry I don't know Lord..."

"My Master says, Ask after the health of Lord Yoshi, say we here as asked. As soon as well please make new day." Deliberately Tyrer had dropped all real pleasantries. The Governor had flushed, bowed as to superiors, apologized again and hurried off disgusted that the gai-jin were still in place--naturally every civilized person from here to Yedo had seen the fires and presumed the gai-jin, those left, would be licking their burns, boarding their ships to join the exodus and sail away.

After the Governor and his entourage had left, Sir William had suggested a leisurely lunch, guiding Seratard to their substantial cellar. "We deserve a celebration, Henri.

What would you like to drink? We were truly lucky last night--apart from Andr`e, poor chap."

"Yes. Pity. The will of God." Seratard frowned, still looking at labels. "Ah!

Montrachet, '51. Two bottles?"' "At least two. George is joining us.

Might as well taste a Margaux--I recommend the '48, Ch`ateau Pichon-Longuville--and a Ch`ateau d'allyquem with the pudding."

"Perfect, shame we have no cheese. No chance Yoshi will appear now?"' "If he does we won't see him."

"At the Club meeting you said dinner tonight. You want to discuss something special with the others?"' "Yes." The cellar was cool and pleasant.

A few glasses stood on a sideboard beside the racks. Sir William selected a half bottle of champagne and began to open it. "I think we must pretend the fire is not the disaster it really is and press ahead against Sanjiro, and his capital Kagoshima."

"Now?"' Seratard was very surprised. "But surely sending the fleet when we're so exposed is highly dangerous, isn't it? Tempting them?"' "Very, but that's my point. My proposal is that we send British warships only, keeping your flagship and the Russian here, with the armed merchantmen. We cancel sending army units for the proposed landing and send only marines. Simply make it a sea bombardment." He popped the cork and poured. "That'll make Ketterer's mission much easier, he never liked the idea of commanding a seaborne landing. Now he can stand off in the bay and pound the devil out of them. Health."

The two men touched glasses, Seratard churning the proposal around to find the pitfalls, any places where his adversary had planted mines to disrupt French interests. There were none. On the contrary, this helped his long-term plan to ingratiate himself into Yoshi's confidence, making him realize the British were the barbarians, not the French, and that France, which he equated with himself, could be trusted to be more patient and far seeing. "Marvelous vintage, William.

En principe, yes but I'd like to consult my Admiral."

"Why not? Then that's what we'll do..."

Lunch had been pleasant. In good time they were aboard and now Sir William swung nimbly on deck as the cutter tied up alongside the Brock wharf, an unheard-of happening. He saw Gornt with a clerk beside some trunks near the jetty steps. "Hope you didn't mind, Mr.Gornt," he said. "I commandeered the cutter, it's under my flag not Struan's."