We tried to express our appreciation to the sailor for his interest. He made some answer which sounded as if he were bored.
One place and another we had found a little sleep in the two days but the thought of a soft, clean steamer bunk began to form itself in my brain and the first sign of the sun was truly welcome. We turned back to the city for one last long walk over the heights. The town was sleepily waking up. The streets that had been the darkest in the night were now the busiest. Our walk ended at the parcel room of the railway station where we had left our rucksacks. The boy who was sweeping out the station restaurant allowed us to shave and scrub behind a screen and make ourselves somewhat presentable for the boat.
Our luggage, which had been in storage, was on the dock waiting for us. O-Owre-san thoroughly shook the linen envelope which had so long been our treasury but the yield refused to increase beyond three silver ten-sen pieces. I once saw an Italian in Venice fee an entire hotel line with a few coppers. He accomplished the act with such graceful courtesy that seemingly the servitors were appreciative of the spirit of the giving rather than the value of the coins. I tried to distribute our pieces of silver to the porters on the dock with an air copied from my remembrance of the Italian, and the Nipponese recipients entered into the drama with sufficient make-belief to have saved our faces if it had not been for the chill in the critical eyes of two English sailors standing at the gangplank. The implication of their Anglo-Saxon hauteur was that it might be satisfying to the heathen in their darkness to weigh in with the heft of compensation such useless freight as palaver and smiles, but as for them, they belonged to a civilization preferring less manners and more substance.
As the boat swung from the pier and open water began to show, a man came running down the dock waving the copy of a cablegram. “Germany has invaded France and England may declare war,” he shouted. Yes, decidedly our days of turning back the clock were over. We were no longer ronins wandering in feudal Japan. We had left the Two-Sworded Trails and were back in the civilization of the two English sailors.
Slowly the harbour of Yokohama was curtained and disappeared behind a brightly glistening mist. I stood against the rail trying to think of America and Europe. My mind had that illusory, abnormal clearness which sometimes follows days without sleep. I stood, thinking, thinking, the first beginning of that agony of trying to add a cubit to our vision by thought.
SLOWLY THE HARBOR OF YOKOHAMA WAS CURTAINED AND DISAPPEARED BEHIND A BRIGHTLY GLISTENING MIST
GLOSSARY OF JAPANESE WORDS