Surgeon Nash unwraps the bandages and puffs out his cheeks at what he finds. ‘Yes, Captain, but I shall add henna and aloes before all traffic in your alimentary canal comes to a dead stop…’
Fischer greets the Captain in English, shakes his hand, and nods around the table at Hovell, Wren, Talbot and Cutlip. Penhaligon clears his throat. ‘Well, be seated, Envoy. We all know why we are here.’
‘Sir, one small preliminary matter,’ says Hovell. ‘Mr Snitker has just accosted us, as drunk as Old Noah, demanding to attend our meeting with Envoy Fischer, and vowing he’d never allow an interloper to “siphon off what’s rightfully mine”.’
‘What’s rightfully his,’ interjects Wren, ‘is a sharp clog up his arse.’
‘I told him he’d be called when needed, Captain, and trust I did right.’
‘You did. It is Envoy Fischer -’ he makes a gracious gesture ‘- who is the man of this hour. Please ask our friend to distil his day’s work.’
Penhaligon studies the tone of Fischer’s replies as Hovell takes notes. The Dutch sentences sound polished. ‘Well, as per his orders, sir, Envoy Fischer spent the day in consultation with the Dutchmen on Dejima and Japanese officials at the Magistracy. He reminds us that Rome was not built in a day, but believes the foundation stones of British Dejima are in place.’
‘We are pleased to learn it – “British Dejima” is a fine phrase.’
Jones the servant brings in a brass lamp. Chigwin provides beer and tankards.
‘Begin with the Dutch: do they, in principle, agree to co-operate?’
Hovell translates Fischer’s reply as, ‘ “Dejima is as good as ours.” ’
This ‘as good as’, thinks the Captain, is the first sour note.
‘Do they recognise the legitimacy of the Kew Memorandum?’
The long reply makes Penhaligon wonder about Fischer’s ‘foundation stones’. Hovell makes further notes as Fischer speaks. ‘Envoy Fischer reports that news of the VOC’s collapse caused dismay amongst Dutch and Japanese alike, and without the edition of the Courant, the Dutch would not have believed it. He used this dismay to present the Phoebus as the Dutchmen’s only hope of a profitable homecoming, but one dissenter, a clerk by the name of -’ Hovell checks the name with Fischer, who repeats it with distaste ‘- Jacob de Zoet, dubbed the British Race to be “the cockroaches of Europe” and swore to cut down any “vermin collaborators”. Objecting to this language, Mr Fischer challenged him to a duel. De Zoet retreated to his rat-hole.’
Fischer wipes his mouth and adds a coda for Hovell to translate.
‘De Zoet was a lackey of both Chief Vorstenbosch and ex-Chief van Cleef, whose murder he accuses you of, sir. Envoy Fischer recommends his removal, in chains.’
Some settling of old scores, Penhaligon nods, is to be expected. ‘Very well.’
The Prussian next produces a sealed envelope and a chequered box. These he slides across the table with a lengthy explanation. ‘Mr Fischer says, sir,’ explains Hovell, ‘that thoroughness demanded he tell you of de Zoet’s opposition, but assures us that the clerk is “neutered”. Whilst on Dejima, Mr Fischer was visited by Dr Marinus, the physician. Marinus had been deputised by all ashore, saving the blackguard de Zoet, to tell Mr Fischer that the merits of the British olive-branch were plain as day, and to entrust him with this sealed letter addressed to you. It contains “the unified will of Dejima’s Europeans.” ’
‘Please congratulate our envoy, Lieutenant. We are pleased.’
Peter Fischer’s slight smile replies, Of course you are pleased…
‘Now ask Mr Fischer about his tête-à-tête with the Magistrate?’
Fischer and Hovell exchange several sentences.
‘The Dutch tongue,’ Cutlip tells Wren, ‘is the noise of mating pigs.’
Insects encrust the cabin’s window, drawn by the bright lamp.
Hovell is ready. ‘Before his return to the Phoebus this evening, Envoy Fischer enjoyed a long audience with Magistrate Shiroyama’s highest adviser, one Chamberlain Tomine.’
‘What about his warm relationship with Magistrate Shiroyama?’ asks Wren.
Hovell explains, ‘Envoy Fischer says that Shiroyama is, in fact, a “lofty castrato” – a figurehead – and that real power lies with this chamberlain.’
I prefer a fibbing underling, Penhaligon worries, to fib consistently.
‘According to Envoy Fischer,’ Hovell continues, ‘this powerful chamberlain viewed our proposal for a commercial treaty with great sympathy. Edo is frustrated by Batavia’s unreliability as a trading partner. Chamberlain Tomine was astonished at the dismemberment of the Dutch Empire, and Envoy Fischer sowed many seeds of doubt in his mind.’
Penhaligon touches the chequered box. ‘This is the chamberlain’s message?’
Fischer understands and speaks to Hovell. He says, sir, that this historic letter was dictated by Chamberlain Tomine, approved by Magistrate Shiroyama, and translated into Dutch by an Interpreter of the First Rank. He was not shown its contents, but has every confidence that it shall please.’
Penhaligon examines the box. ‘Fine workmanship, but how to get inside?’
‘There’ll be a hidden spring, sir,’ says Wren. ‘May I?’ The Second Lieutenant wastes a minute failing. ‘How damnably Asiatic.’
‘It would be no match,’ Cutlip snorts snuff, ‘for a good English hammer.’
Wren passes it to Hovell. ‘Picking Oriental locks is your forte, Lieutenant.’
Hovell slides one end panel and a lid slips off. Inside is a sheet of parchment, folded twice and sealed at the front.
A man’s life is made, Penhaligon thinks, by such letters… or unmade.
The Captain slices the seal with his paper-knife and unfolds the page.
The script inside is Dutch. ‘I impose once again, Lieutenant Hovell.’
‘Not at all, sir.’ Hovell uses a taper to light a second lamp.
‘ “To the Captain of the English vessel, Phoebus. Magistrate Shiroyama informs the ‘Englanders’ that changes…” ’ Hovell pauses, frowning ‘… pardon, sir, the grammar is home-spun “… changes to the rules governing trade with foreigners lie not within the remit of the Magistrate of Nagasaki. These matters are the preserve of the Shogun’s Council of Elders in Edo. The English Captain is therefore -” the word is ”commanded” “- commanded to remain at anchor for sixty days whilst the possibility of a treaty with Great Britain is discussed by the proper authorities in Edo.” ’
Hostile silence settles over the table.
‘The jaundiced pygmies,’ declares Wren, ‘take us for a gaggle of heyducks!’
Fischer, sensing something badly amiss, asks to see the chamberlain’s letter.
Hovell’s palm tells him, Wait. ‘There is worse, sir. “The English Captain is commanded to send ashore all gunpowder -” ’
‘They’ll have our lives, by all that’s Holy,’ swears Cutlip, ‘before our powder!’
I was a fool, thinks Penhaligon, to forget that diplomacy is never simple.
Hovell continues: ‘ “- all gunpowder and admit inspectors on to his ship to ensure compliancy. The English must not attempt a landing.” That was underlined, sir. “Doing so without the Magistrate’s written permission shall be an act of war. Finally, the English Captain is warned that the Shogun’s laws punish smugglers with crucifixion.” The letter is signed by Magistrate Shiroyama.’
Penhaligon rubs his eyes. His gout hurts. ‘Show our “Envoy” the fruits of his cleverness.’
Peter Fischer reads the letter with rising incredulity, and stammers high-pitched protests at Hovell. ‘Fischer denies, Captain, that the chamberlain mentioned these sixty days, or the gunpowder.’
‘One doesn’t doubt,’ says the Captain, ‘Fischer was told what was expedient.’ Penhaligon slits open the envelope containing the letter from the doctor. He is expecting Dutch, but finds neatly written English. ‘There is a capable linguist ashore. “To Captain Penhaligon of the Royal Navy: Sir, I, Jacob de Zoet, elected on this day President of the Provisional Dejima Republic -” ’