“The Dutch did not say that the American ships would come to Yedo Bay,” said the older of the two strange daimios who sat between me and Keiki.
“How should the Dutch know?” interposed Satsuma in a voice resonant with depth and power. “The Dutch are a little people. Can they foresee the actions of a great people? The Americans have shown boldness and wisdom in coming direct to Yedo Bay. Nagasaki is a long way from Nippon.”
“Does the Daimio of Satsuma favor the mission of the barbarians?” demanded Keiki.
“I favor calmness and reasonable consideration of the purposes of the tojin visitors. I do not shriek for the destruction of envoys who, according to my friend Woroto Sama, come in peace and friendship.”
“Is it friendly for them to force their way into the Bay of Yedo?” insisted Keiki.
“Nagasaki is a gate half open, but far away from the ear of His Highness,” said Owari. “The tojin peoples know that the ancient laws forbid all communication whatever. If the Shogunate sets aside the edict of non-intercourse, it may as well set aside the edict forbidding the entrance of tojin ships into other ports than Nagasaki.”
“The ancient laws are immutable. They may not be set aside,” murmured Midzuano.
“Have I heard that the Council of Elders has punished those who study the Dutch learning or those who teach the history of Nippon?” demanded Satsuma. “Both are crimes forbidden under penalty of death. Yet a Prince of Mito caused the history to be printed.”
“Let the tojin lord speak,” interposed Iyeyoshi. “I have commanded your attendance before me to advise on the coming of the black ships.—Answer truthfully, tojin! Rumor says that the fleet of your people is greater than the fleet of Kublai Khan.”
“Your Highness,” I answered, “messengers will soon bring you the exact count of the ships in the fleet of the American envoy. Others may have joined those which I saw assembled in China, yet I can state with certainty that, all told, they will number less than ten. I place the count at five or six.”