Jacob has a good view. The ornate columns of brush-stroked kanji characters offer, to the clerk’s eyes, moments of recognition: the Dutch lessons he gives Ogawa Uzaemon involve a reciprocal aspect, and his notebook now contains some five hundred of the symbols. Here the clandestine student recognises Give; there, Edo; in the next column, ten…

‘Naturally,’ Vorstenbosch sighs, ‘nobody at the Shogun’s Court writes Dutch. Would either of you prodigies,’ he looks at the interpreters, ‘care to oblige?’

The grandfather clock counts off one minute; two; three…

Kobayashi’s eyes travel down, up and across the columns of the scroll.

It is not so arduous or long, thinks Jacob. He is dragging the exercise out.

The interpreter’s ponderous reading is punctuated by thoughtful nods.

Elsewhere in the Chief’s Residence, servants go about their business.

Vorstenbosch refuses to satisfy Kobayashi by voicing his impatience.

Kobayashi growls in his throat enigmatically, and opens his mouth…

‘I read once more, to ensure no mistake.’

If looks really could kill, thinks Jacob, watching Vorstenbosch, Kobayashi would be screaming the agonies of the damned.

A minute passes. Vorstenbosch tells his slave Philander, ‘Bring me water.’

From his side of the table, Jacob continues to study the Shogun’s scroll.

Two minutes pass. Philander returns with the pitcher.

‘How,’ Kobayashi turns to Iwase, ‘may one say “rôju” in Dutch?’

The colleague’s considered reply contains the words ‘First Minister’.

‘Then,’ Kobayashi announces, ‘I am ready to translate message.’

Jacob dips his sharpest quill into his ink-pot.

‘The message reads: “Shogun’s First Minister sends cordialest greetings to Governor-General van Overstraten and Chief of Dutchmen on Dejima, Vorstenbosch. First Minister asks for…” the interpreter peers at the scroll ”… one thousand fans of finest peacock feathers. Dutch ship must carry this order back to Batavia, so fans of peacock feathers will arrive next year trading season.” ’

Jacob’s pen scratches out a summary.

Captain Lacy belches. ‘ ’Twas my breakfast oysters… past their ripest…’

Kobayashi looks at Vorstenbosch, as if awaiting his response.

Vorstenbosch drains his glass of water. ‘Speak to me about copper.’

With innocent insolence, Kobayashi blinks and says, ‘Message says nothing about copper, Chief Resident.’

‘Do not tell me,’ a vein throbs in Vorstenbosch’s temple, ‘Mr Kobayashi, that this is the sum of the message.’

‘No…’ Kobayashi peers at the left of the scroll. ‘First Minister also hope autumn in Nagasaki is clement and winter is mild. But I think, “Not relevant”.’

‘One thousand peacock-feather fans.’ Van Cleef whistles.

‘Finest peacock-feather fans,’ corrects Kobayashi, unembarrassed.

‘Back in Charleston,’ says Captain Lacy, ‘we’d call that a Begging Letter.’

‘Here in Nagasaki,’ says Iwase, ‘we call that Order of Shogun.’

‘Are those sons of bitches in Edo,’ asks Vorstenbosch, ‘toying with us?’

‘Good news,’ suggests Kobayashi, ‘that Council of Elders continues discussions on copper. To not say “no” is to half say “yes”.’

‘The Shenandoah sails in seven or eight weeks’ time.’

‘Copper quota,’ Kobayashi purses his lips, ‘complicated matter.’

‘Contrariwise, it is a simple matter. Should twenty thousand piculs of copper not arrive on Dejima by the middle of October, this benighted country’s sole window on to the world is bricked up. Does Edo imagine the Governor-General is bluffing? Do they think I wrote the ultimatum myself?’

Well, says Kobayashi’s shrug, it is all beyond my power…

Jacob lets his quill rest and studies the First Minister’s scroll.

‘How reply to Edo on peacock fans?’ asks Iwase. ‘ “Yes” may help copper…’

‘Why must my petitions,’ Vorstenbosch demands, ‘wait until Kingdom Come, yet when the Court wants something we are supposed to act’ – he clicks his fingers – ‘thus? Does this minister suppose peacocks are pigeons? Might not a few windmills please His Elevated Eye?’

‘Peacock fan,’ says Kobayashi, ‘enough token of esteem for First Minister.’

‘I am sick,’ Vorstenbosch complains to Heaven, ‘sick of these damned -’ he thumps the scroll on the table, causing the Japanese to gasp in horror at the disrespect ‘- “tokens of esteem”! On Mondays it is, “The Magistrate’s Falconer’s guano sweeper asks for a roll of Bangalore chintz”; on Wednesdays, “The City Elders’ Monkey-Keeper requires a box of cloves”; on Fridays, it is “His Lord So-and-so of Such-and-such admires your whalebone cutlery: he is powerful friend of foreigners” so Hey Diddle Diddle, it is chipped pewter spoons for me. Yet when we need assistance, where are these “powerful friends of foreigners” to be found?’

Kobayashi savours his victory under an ill-fitting mask of empathy.

Jacob is provoked into a rash gamble. ‘Mr Kobayashi?’

The senior interpreter looks at the clerk of uncertain status.

‘Mr Kobayashi, an incident occurred earlier during the sale of peppercorns.’

‘What in Hell,’ asks Vorstenbosch, ‘have peppercorns to do with our copper?’

‘Je vous prie de m’excuser, Monsieur,’ Jacob seeks to assure his superior, ‘mais je crois savoir ce que je fais.’

‘Je prie Dieu que vous savez,’ the Chief warns him. ‘Le jour a déjà bien mal commencé sans pour cela y ajouter votre aide.’

‘You see,’ Jacob speaks to Kobayashi, ‘Mr Ouwehand and I argued with a merchant, regarding the Chinese ideogram – the konji, I believe you call them?’

‘Kanji,’ says Kobayashi.

‘Forgive me, the kanji for the number ten. During my stay in Batavia, I learnt a small number from a Chinese merchant and, perhaps unwisely, used my limited knowledge instead of sending to the Guild for an Interpreter. Tempers grew heated, and now I fear a charge of dishonesty may have been made against your countryman.’

‘What,’ Kobayashi sniffs fresh Dutch humiliation, ‘kanji of argument?’

‘Well, sir, Mr Ouwehand said that the kanji for “ten” is…’ with a show of clumsy concentration, Jacob inscribes a character on his blotter ‘… drawn thus…

‘But I told Ouwehand, no; the true character for “ten” is writ… thus…’

Jacob fouls the stroke order to exaggerate his ineptitude. ‘The merchant swore we were both wrong: he drew -’ Jacob sighs and frowns ‘- a cross, I believe, thus…

‘I became convinced the merchant was a swindler, and may have said as much: could Interpreter Kobayashi kindly tell me the truth of the matter?’

‘Mr Ouwehand’s number,’ Kobayashi points to the topmost character, ‘is “thousand”, not “ten”. Mr de Zoet’s number, too, is wrong: it mean “hundred”. This,’ he indicates the X, ‘is wrong memory. Merchant wrote this…’ Kobayashi turns to his scribe for a brush. ‘Here is “ten”. Two strokes, yes, but one up, one across…’

Jacob groans with contrition, and inserts the numbers 10, 100 and 1000 beside the corresponding characters. ‘These, then, are the true symbols for the numbers in question?’

Cautious Kobayashi examines the numbers a final time, and nods.

‘I am sincerely grateful,’ Jacob bows, ‘for the senior interpreter’s guidance.’

‘There are,’ the interpreter fans himself, ‘no more questions?’

‘Just one more, sir,’ says Jacob. ‘Why did you claim that the Shogun’s First Minister requests one thousand peacock-feather fans when, according to the numerals you were just kind enough to teach me, the number in question is a much more modest one hundred’ – every eye in the room follows Jacob’s finger on the scroll, resting on the corresponding kanji ‘hundred’ – ‘as written here?’