The steam launch from the “Alaska” came alongside just as he turned, and its coxswain hailed him. “Going off to the ship, Sago?” But Sago did not hear, or if he heard he made no answer, nor did he slacken his pace. At the end of the dock he stepped into a rikisha and at full speed the little vehicle rushed toward the Yokohama railroad station.
An hour later Captain Inaba was in his office at the navy department. His bronze face wore a worried look. From his secret service men, who had been detailed to trace down the missing documents, very baffling news had come. Two of his men had had the letter in their grasp only to lose it. The quarters in the Imperial Hotel had been thoroughly searched, but it had not been found, yet he was confident that it was in American hands. An official-appearing letter addressed to the editor of the “Shimbunshi” was found in Midshipman Perry’s valise at the hotel. Inaba still held this letter on his desk awaiting Takishima’s arrival to help translate its contents, for nothing must interfere with tracing down the important paper. His reputation, even his life, depended upon keeping the contents of the lost letter secret from the Americans.
“Some one to see me, and from the American war-ship!” the little naval man exclaimed, as an attendant delivered a message, holding the door open. “Let him enter at once.” Inaba arose from his chair excitedly, and took several steps in the messenger’s direction.
Sago came hesitatingly into the room. The American steward had not forgotten his early training, and when he beheld the important official, he stopped and made several low obeisances, drawing in his breath each time between closed teeth.
Sago was now essentially a Japanese. His fifteen years in the United States navy had quite passed from his mind. The oath he had taken to uphold the honor of his adopted country was forgotten. Those few silent minutes’ struggle on the dock while he had watched the launch, knowing that the sacred seal of the Emperor had been violated and the letter polluted by alien hands, had proved to him that his allegiance yet belonged to his Emperor and Japan.
Inaba gazed in surprise at this fellow countryman in an American steward’s uniform. He knew of course that there were many of his people so employed, but there was something singularly familiar about this man’s face. Sago kept his eyes lowered, and his head hung down in sign of humility before this powerful adviser to the Minister of Marine.
“What is it? Speak, man!” Inaba commanded.
Sago looked guardedly around the office, assuring himself there were no other ears but his and his questioner.
“Your augustness,” Sago began meekly, bowing again and sucking in his breath, “I have at last found great joy in being able to help my country. Years ago I wronged her, and have paid dearly for it by my self-inflicted exile.”
Inaba approached close to the humble and penitent man and gazed long into his averted face.