CHAPTER XII
A WOMAN’S PRIVILEGE

Shibusawa’s being washed overboard left Okyo a helpless and penniless victim. For nearly two days he managed to escape being burned alive in the firebox, by the angry stoker, who was now determined to rid himself of the fruitless charge. Through fright and exposure and hunger he had become so nearly dumb that when discovered and questioned he could say nothing but “mum is the word.” Then he was taken on deck and offered food and water, and as a matter of safety placed in the guard house, where he remained until the ship landed at Shanghai.

Here he was detained until an opportunity came to return him to his native land, and when he had finally arrived in Tokyo, some two months later, he was still unable to make any explanation of his condition or experiences. Maido tried by every means to elicit some word from him that might throw light upon the whereabouts or safety of his son. All his efforts were of no avail, and the only thing possible for Okyo to say was:

“Mum is the word.”

Okyo’s hapless predicament—which led Maido to think it possible that his son had met a like fate, or even a worse one—wore heavily upon the already overburdened daimyo. Since the landing of Commodore Perry’s fleet, matters of state were becoming more and more strained. Every day brought new charges and counter charges of the one party against the other. Contrary to Ikamon’s promises the literati had not been quelled, but were again fast gaining strength throughout the south, and even the mikado himself was becoming not averse to listening to their bitter complaints, if not to their proposed radical changes. Though Maido was becoming sick at heart and weak of purpose he could not, much as he desired to do so, extricate himself from the tangled net that dragged at the home or in the state. Old tactics and new sorrows were little calculated to bring him that peace of mind and ease of heart to which he had all his life looked forward, and Shibusawa’s absence had come to be not only the source of deepest regret but the cause of nervous, restless anxiety.

Ikamon’s schemes, also, were weighing Maido down with uncertainty; forcing him into a retirement shorn of every consolation saving only Nehachibana. She soothed him and cheered him and he worshipped her, yet this last and only comfort was soon to be snatched away. Nehachibana, too, was suddenly to fall a victim to Ikamon’s base desires, to Tetsutaisho’s insatiate thirst. Maido’s consent was wrung out of him and his daughter torn from him, and when on a dark, dreary day early in September she was carried away the old man broke down and wept bitterly.

“You, too, Nehachibana,” were the only words, as the bridal train left, and wended its way toward Tetsutaisho’s father’s house, where the eager bridegroom waited this, the coming of his latest prey.

They were married, and Nehachibana was loved only till abandoned to the ill-usage of a tyrannical mother-in-law. The Tetsutaishos belonged to the samurai class and as such were permitted a small living within the outer moat. Tetsutaisho was next to the youngest of seven children—an elder brother and five sisters. The father had never risen in the ranks, but owing to dissipation and over-indulgence had reached a state of worthlessness which deprived him of all social standing and reduced his income to the barest necessities. The eldest son had grown up a useless appendage to an already declining family, and his time was frittered away at playing “go” or in hanging about at the wrestling matches. The girls had been at an early age regularly sold into their kind of slavery, and in such manner the family managed barely to subsist until Tetsutaisho’s fortunes began to rise.

In spite of this one’s coarse breeding and fallen rank there was something about him which appealed to his superiors. He was every inch a soldier, and few there were who could snap a bow or flash a steel as he. From childhood he took a fancy to everything military, and early in life had shown a disposition to redeem a lost heritage and restore his family to its proper rank and former prowess. However, such a thing as executive ability was unknown to him. His wants did not go beyond the hour, and the matter of provision never entered his head. He was hale and hearty, and a “good fellow well met.” There were but two things which concerned him—war and women; the one his occupation, the other his amusement.

Therefore, when Nehachibana came to his father’s home Tetsutaisho did not at all worry about the kind or quality of dowry which she brought. It was only her tender innocence that he coveted, and that only for his enjoyment. For her he had no sympathy, nothing to offer. She must take her place, as it was, and be contented. He had not even thought of an heir—that was a thing which as yet had not occurred to him, and thus it offered no encouragement to his wife.