Shogun - Clavell James - Страница 43
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"I'm Anjin-san of this whore-bitch ship and if I want to go ashore I'm going ashore." Blackthorne kept his voice very polite but strong and it was equally obvious what he meant. "I know that skiff won't live in that sea. Hai! But I'm going ashore there - by that point. You see that point, Toda Hiro-matsu-sama? By that small rock. I'm going to work my way around the headland, there. I'm in no hurry to die and I've nowhere to run. I want to get Rodrigu-san's body." He cocked a leg over the side. The scabbarded sword moved a fraction. So he froze. But his gaze was level, his face set.
Hiro-matsu was in a dilemma. He could understand the pirate wanting to find Rodrigu-san's body but it was dangerous to go there, even by foot, and Lord Toranaga had said to bring the barbarian back safely, so he was going to be brought safely. It was equally clear that the man intended to go.
He had seen him during the storm, standing on the pitching deck like an evil sea kami, unafraid, in his element and part of the storm, and he had thought grimly at the time, better to get this man and all barbarians like him on the land where we can deal with them. At sea we're in their power.
He could see the pirate was impatient. How insulting they are, he told himself. Even so I should think you. Everyone says you alone are responsible for bringing the ship to harbor, that the Rodrigu-anjin lost his nerve and waved us away from land, but you held our course. Yes. If we'd gone out to sea we'd have sunk certainly and then I would have failed my Master. Oh, Buddha, protect me from that!
All his joints were aching and his piles inflamed. He was exhausted by the effort it took to remain stoic in front of his men, Yabu, the crew, even this barbarian. Oh, Buddha, I'm so tired. I wish I could lie in a bath and soak and soak and have one day of rest from pain. Just one day. Stop your stupid womanish thoughts! You've been in pain for almost sixty years. What is pain to a man? A privilege! Masking pain is the measure of a man. Thank Buddha you are still alive to protect your Master when you should have been dead a hundred times. I do thank Buddha.
But I hate the sea. I hate the cold. And I hate pain.
"Stay where you are, Anjin-san," he said, pointing with his scabbard for clarity, bleakly amused by the ice-blue fire in the man's eyes. When he was sure the man understood he glanced at the mate. "Where are we? Whose fief is this?"
"I don't know, Sire. I think we're somewhere in Ise Province. We could send someone ashore to the nearest village."
"Can you pilot us to Osaka?"
"Providing we stay very close to shore, Sire, and go slowly, with great caution. I don't know these waters and I could never guarantee your safety. I don't have enough knowledge and there's no one aboard, Sire, who has. Except this pilot. If it was left to me I would advise you to go by land. We could get you horses or palanquins."
Hiro-matsu shook his head irascibly. To go overland was out of the question. It would take far too long - the way was mountainous and there were few roads - and they would have to go through many territories controlled by allies of Ishido, the enemy. Added to this danger were also the multitudinous bandit groups that infested the passes. This would mean he would have to take all his men. Certainly he could fight his way through the bandits, but he could never force a passage if Ishido or his allies decided to inhibit him. All this would delay him further, and his orders were to deliver the cargo, the barbarian, and Yabu, quickly and safely.
"If we follow the coast, how long would it take us?"
"I don't know, Sire. Four or five days, perhaps more. I would feel very unsure of myself - I'm not a captain, so sorry."
Which means, Hiro-matsu thought, that I have to have the cooperation of this barbarian. To prevent him going ashore I'll have to tie him up. And who knows if he'll be cooperative tied up?
"How long will we have to stay here?"
"The pilot said overnight."
"Will the storm be gone by then?"
"It should, Sire, but one never knows."
Hiro-matsu studied the mountain coast, then the pilot, hesitating.
"May I offer a suggestion, Hiro-matsu-san?" Yabu said.
"Yes, yes, of course," he said testily.
"As we seem to need the pirate's cooperation to get us to Osaka, why not let him go ashore but send men with him to protect him, and order them back before dark. As to going overland, I agree it would be too dangerous for you - I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Once the storm has blown itself out you'll be safer with the ship and you'll get to Osaka much quicker, neh? Surely by sunset tomorrow."
Reluctantly Hiro-matsu nodded. "Very well." He beckoned a samurai. "Takatashi-san! You will take six men and go with the Pilot. Bring the Portuguese's body back if you can find it. But if even one of this barbarian's eyelashes is damaged, you and your men will commit seppuku instantly."
"Yes, Lord."
"And send two men to the nearest village and find out exactly where we are and in whose fief we are."
"Yes, Lord."
"With your permission, Hiro-matsu-san, I will lead the party ashore," Yabu said. "If we arrived in Osaka without the pirate, I'd be so ashamed that I'd feel obliged to kill myself anyway. I'd like the honor of carrying out your orders."
Hiro-matsu nodded, inwardly surprised that Yabu would put himself in such jeopardy. He went below.
When Blackthorne realized that Yabu was going ashore with him, his pulse quickened. I haven't forgotten Pieterzoon or my crew or the pit - or the screams or Omi or any part of it. Look to your life, bastard.
They were quickly on land. Blackthorne intended to lead but Yabu usurped that position and set a strong pace, which he was hard put to keep up with. The other six samurai were watching him carefully. I've nowhere to run, you fools, he thought, misunderstanding their concern, as his eyes automatically quartered the bay, looking for shoals or hidden reefs, measuring bearings, his mind docketing the important things for future transcription.
Their way led first along the pebbled shore, then a short climb over sea-smoothed rocks up onto a path that skirted the cliff and crept precariously around the headland southward. The rain had stopped but the gale had not. The closer they came to the exposed tongue of land, the higher the surf-hurled against the rocks below - sprayed into the air. Soon they were soaked.
Although Blackthorne felt chilled, Yabu and the others, who had their light kimonos carelessly tucked into their belts, did not seem to be affected by the wet or the cold. It must be as Rodrigues had said, he thought, his fear returning. Japmen just aren't built like us. They don't feel cold or hunger or privations or wounds as we do. They are more like animals, their nerves dulled, compared to us.
Above them the cliff soared two hundred feet. The shore was fifty feet below. Beyond and all around were mountains and not a house or but in the whole bay area. This was not surprising for there was no room for fields, the shore pebbles quickly becoming foreshore rocks and then granite mountain with trees on the upper slopes.
The path dipped and rose along the cliff face, very unsafe, the surface loose. Blackthorne plodded along, leaning against the wind, and noticed that Yabu's legs were strong and muscular. Slip, you whore-bastard, he thought. Slip - splatter yourself on the rocks below. Would that make you scream? What would make you scream?
With an effort he took his eyes off Yabu and went back to searching the foreshore. Each crevice and cleft and gulley. The spume wind was gusting and tore the tears from him. Sea spilled back and forth, swirled and eddied. He knew there was a minimal hope of finding Rodrigues, there would be too many caves and hidden places that could never be investigated. But he had had to come ashore to try. He owed Rodrigues the try. All pilots prayed helplessly for death ashore and burial ashore. All had seen too many sea-bloated corpses and half-eaten corpses and crab-mutilated corpses.
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