"Answer... now. No three week."

"Not have guns here," McFay said slowly, directly to him. "Must write Hong Kong, Head Office, nine days there, nine days back.

Some breech-loaders there. All rest in America. Four or five months minimum."

"No unner'stand."

Vargas interpreted. Then there was a conversation between the two samurai, the merchant answering their questions with fervent humility. More questions to Vargas, politely responded to. "He says very well, he or a Choshu official will return in twenty-nine days. This transaction is to be secret."

"Of course." McFay looked at the youth.

"Secret."

"Hai! Sek'ret."

"Ask him how the other samurai, Saito, is." He saw them frown, but could read nothing from their faces.

"They don't know him personally, Senhor."

More bows and then Jamie was alone. Lost in thought, he put the gun belt back into the case.

If I don't sell them the guns, Norbert will--whatever the morality.

Vargas returned, very pleased. "An excellent possibility, senhor, but a big responsibility."

"Yes. I wonder what Head Office will say, this time."

"Easy to find out, senhor, quickly. You don't have to wait eighteen days, isn't Head Office upstairs?"

McFay stared at him. "I'll be damned, I'd forgotten! Difficult to think of young Malcolm as tai-pan, our ultimate decider. You're right."

Running feet approached, the door opened, "Sorry to butt in," Nettlesmith said, puffing from his exertion, his grubby top hat askew.

"Thought you'd better know, just got word the blue signal flag went up the Legation mast a few minutes ago... then came down and went up again then came down to half mast and stayed there."

Jamie gaped at him. "What the devil does that mean?"

"Don't know, 'cepting that half mast usually means a death, doesn't it?"

Greatly perturbed, the Admiral again trained his binoculars on the Legation flagpole, the other men on the quarterdeck, his Captains from the rest of the fleet, Marlowe, the General, French Admiral, and von Heimrich equally concerned, Seratard and Andr`e Poncin pretending to be.

When the lookout had given the alarm half an hour ago, they had all hurried on deck from the lunch table. Except the Russian Minister: "If you want to wait in the cold, very well, damned if I am. When word comes from the shore, yes, no or war, please wake me. If you start shelling I'll join you..."

Marlowe was watching the roll over the Admiral's collar, despising him, wishing he was ashore with Tyrer, or aboard his own ship, the Pearl. At noon the Admiral had replaced the temporary captain with a stranger, a Lieutenant Dornfild, disregarding his advice. Bloody old bastard, look at the way he fiddles so bloody pompously with his binoculars--we all know they are highly expensive and issued to Flag Rank only.

Bloody old-- "Marlowe!"

"Yessir."

"We'd better find out what the devil's going on. You go ashore... no, I need you here!

Thomas, would you please be good enough to send an officer to the Legation? Marlowe, detail a signalman to go with the detachment."

At once the General jerked his thumb at his aide who hurried off, closely followed by Marlowe. Seratard pulled his heavy great coat closer against the chill of the wind. "I'm afraid Sir William has boxed himself in."

"I remember you giving your opinion this morning," the Admiral said curtly.

The meeting he had called with the Ministers had been noisy and had brought forth no solution, except Count Zergeyev's: immediate and massive force. "Which, my dear Count," he had pointed out sourly at once, "we don't have now if it's necessary to follow up a simple bombardment to seize the city and surrounds."

Ketterer pursed his lips and glared at Seratard, the dislike mutual. "I'm sure Sir William will find an answer, but I tell you frankly, by God, if I see our colors struck, Yedo goes up in smoke!"

"I agree," Seratard said. "A matter of national honor!"

Von Heimrich's face hardened.

"Japanners are not stupid--like some people. I cannot believe they will disregard the force we have now."

The wind picked up suddenly, crackling some of the spars aloft, sea greyer, clouds greying.

All eyes went to a black squall line on the eastern horizon. The squall was heading shorewards threatening their exposed anchorage.

"Marlowe, send a... Marlowe!" the Admiral bellowed.

"Yessir?" Marlowe came running.

"For God's sake stay within hailing distance!

Signal all ships: "Prepare to stand out to sea. Should conditions deteriorate rapidly, on my command take individual action and rejoin at Kanagawa as soon as conditions permit."

You Captains get back to your ships while you've the weather." They rushed off, glad to be away.

"I will get back to my ship too," the French Admiral said. "Bonjour, messieurs."

"We'll come with you, Monsieur Admiral,"

Seratard said. "Thank you for your hospitality, Admiral Ketterer."

"What about Count Alexi? He came with you, didn't he?"

"Let him sleep. Better for the Russian bear to sleep, n'est-ce pas?" Seratard said coldly to von Heimrich, both of them knowing full well Prussia's secret overtures to the Tsar to remain neutral in any confrontation, to allow Prussia to expand in Europe to satisfy an open state policy: the creation of a German nation of German-speaking peoples with Prussia its spearhead.

Marlowe, hurrying for the signalman, saw his ship, the Pearl, neatly at anchor and was worried about her, loathing not being aboard and in command. Uneasily he glanced seaward again, gauging the squall line, the weight of blackening clouds, the smell and the taste of the salt on the wind. "That bugger's going to be a sod."

In the Legation audience room Sir William, flanked by a Scots officer, Phillip Tyrer and guards sat coldly facing three Japanese officials who were leisurely seating themselves, their guards behind them: the grey-haired Elder, Adachi, daimyo of Mito, the mock samurai, Misamoto the fisherman, and last, a short, big-bellied, Bakufu official, secretly fluent in Dutch, whose covert assignment was to report in private to Yoshi on the meeting and the behavior of the other two. As usual, none had used their correct names.

Five palanquins had arrived as yesterday, with the same ceremony though an increased number of guards. Only three were occupied which Sir William had found curiously disturbing. This, added to heightened samurai activity during the night around the temple and Legation, prompted him to send a partial alarm signal to the fleet by half-masting the pennant that he hoped Ketterer would understand.

Outside in the forecourt, Hiraga, again disguised as a gardener, had been equally perturbed --even more so that Toranaga Yoshi was not amongst the officials. This meant the attack plan so carefully poised to ambush Yoshi near the castle gates on his return had to be called off. At once he had tried to melt away, but samurai irritably ordered him back to work. Seething, he obeyed, waiting his chance to escape.

"You're two and a half hours late," Sir William said icily as an opening salvo.

"In civilized countries diplomatic meetings are on time, not late!"

Immediate and flowery apologies of no consequence. Then the usual obligatory introductions and sugary compliments and aggravating politenesses, and over an hour of back and forth, of demands calmly deflected, ponderous arguments, delays requested, astonishment where none was merited, questions needing to be repeated, facts dismissed, the truth disregarded--alibis, explanations, rationalizations, excuses, all courteously delivered.

Sir William was about to explode when, with great formality, the Elder, Adachi, produced a sealed scroll, handed it to their interpreter who handed it to Johann.