1636: Seas of Fortune (46 page)

What did surprise the guardsmen was that the
Ieyasu Maru
was not a straggler from the First Fleet, but rather had voyaged across the Pacific independently.

“Where do you come from?” their commander asked.

“Japan,” answered Captain Haruno.

“Where have you been?”

“Many places.”

“Who are the natives I see on board your ship?”

“Indians.”

It soon became apparent to the guards that Captain Haruno was not going to regale them with an epic story. Indeed, after a few more polite deflections, he insisted that a messenger be sent to the grand governor, and he didn’t even allow his people to spend the night in the village.

The next morning, a small squadron of samurai rode up, and Captain Haruno and the rest of his company were guided to Date Masamune’s present camp. The grand governor greeted them warmly, then had them divided up to be debriefed by various advisors.

Katakura Shigetsuna, the grand governor’s chief advisor, did spare a moment to promise Haruno and Tokubei that the grand governor would honor them for their rescue of the castaways, and the discovery of iron on Texada. Indeed, he assured them that the grand governor would mention their discovery prominently in his report to the shogun. But he also warned them to be patient; there were many more immediate demands on the grand governor’s attention. “Rest while you can,” he added.

* * *

Captain Tasman was amazed by how quickly the village of Monterey/Andoryu was assembled. Assembled, not built; many of the
kirishitan
had simply packed up their homes, which were made of cedar or pine, and shipped them to the New World. Katakura Shigetsuna had told the captain that back in Japan, whole towns had been disassembled and reassembled in a new location.

Likewise, some of the
kirishitan
fishermen had taken their boats along. Masamune had encouraged this; the sooner the boats were in the water, catching fish, the sooner the colonists could stop living off the dried provisions they had taken along for the voyage. The waters of Monterey Bay proved to be extremely rich, although all the Japanese colonists, even the fishermen, were looking forward to their first rice harvest. Rice, however, was planted in the spring. What they could plant now was
mugi
: wheat, barley and rye.

Masamune had started across the Pacific with two thousand colonists and five hundred retainers. One in ten of the colonists, and one in twenty of the better-nourished retainers, had died at sea. The remainder was still a good many mouths to feed.

* * *

The rest of First-to-Dance’s tribelet, the Kalenta Ruk, had fled upriver, and no other Indians had yet been encountered by the Japanese of the “River City” settlement.

Date Masamune met there with his advisers. “That the natives avoided us was convenient when we were most vulnerable, while we were landing and before we had built up defenses. But now it would be good to speak to them, have them tell us what is good to eat and what isn’t.”

The Japanese had been mainly eating fish since landing. The farmers were planting wheat on the high ground, but it would be awhile before it could be harvested, and they were none too sure how well their wheat would do in this soil and climate.

“I am sure that girl we picked up could tell us, if only we could speak to her,” said his son, the newly christened David Date.

Several of the Japanese had attempted to communicate with First-to-Dance, both by sign language and by trying to teach her Japanese and learn her own language. Progress was slow. Hold up a finger, and say a word. Do you mean “finger”? “One”? The direction “up”? It took time for each side to see what the different things that a particular word applied to had in common.

One word that they were quite interested in learning the name for was the one for the creature from which First-to-Dance’s robe was made. This robe was the skin of a sea otter. When the physician had first examined her, he had commented on how marvelous the material was, warm and waterproof. He was from the
yukiguni
, the “snow country” of Japan, and he was sure that this might be something that could be sold back home. Masamune had emphasized the importance of finding such products, to assure that the motherland would continue to supply them with the goods they couldn’t make themselves.

“Let’s put her on a looser leash,” said Masamune. “Let her wander around a bit, observe what she eats and drinks. Perhaps she would be more comfortable with some female company?”

* * *

Masamune decided that escorting First-to-Dance was exactly what was needed to distract Chiyo from archery practice.

Instead, of course, Chiyo insisted that her brother teach First-to-Dance, too.

First-to-Dance was somewhat nonplused by this development. Her people used the bow-and-arrow, but hunting was a male occupation. She absolutely refused to handle the bow, but was willing to watch Chiyo. And David Date, his aide Nobuyasu, and their friends.

In turn, Chiyo and Mika watched First-to-Dance. They discovered that she was perfectly happy to eat not only the fish caught by the Japanese fishermen, but also grasshoppers, caterpillars, and lizards. Frogs and toads, she ignored.

First-to-Dance collected acorns, too, knocking them from the limbs of the oaks that grew here and there, and putting them in the bag Chiyo had given her. She gave them to Chiyo, who had absolutely no idea what to do with them. Even after First-to-Dance engaged in an elaborate pantomime.

It was Mika, Chiyo’s maid, who discovered the answer. She had, apparently, found that stories about the Indian woman were in great demand among the Japanese. One night, she described First-to-Dance’s antics to a family that came from the Goto Islands.

“Acorns? I love acorns,” said the mother. “We ground them up and put them in a pot, and boiled them until the water turned brown. Then we threw out the brown water and did it again and again, until the water was clear.” That was done, she explained, to remove whatever gave raw acorns a bitter taste.

“Oh! That’s what First-to-Dance was doing! Or something like it, at least.” The word was spread and the Japanese colonists began gathering acorns in earnest. Fortunately, the acorn crop was bountiful in 1634.

Sacramento River Valley

Lord Matsudaira’s party turned onto the Feather River, hoping that it was the American. The water level, at least, was much greater, a better fit for Matsudaira’s preconception of what the American River should look like. Shigehisa had his doubts, however. The map showed the American meeting the Sacramento River from the east, whereas this tributary came in from the north. When Shigehisa pointed this out to Lord Matsudaira, he dismissed it abruptly.

“So? I wouldn’t expect the map to show every little twist and turn. It will turn east eventually.”

But days passed, and by Shigehisa’s reckoning, they were still heading north as they progressed slowly upriver. It wasn’t until they reached the confluence of the Feather and the Yuba that Shigehisa decided that he had to speak up again. By his recollection, the up-time map hadn’t shown any significant branching of the American until above Folsom Lake.

“Lord Matsudaira, may I please see the American map again?”

The map was a copy, of course, of the one in the American encyclopedia, but the Japanese artist who prepared it had duplicated every stroke. A short line was drawn, perpendicular to the river, immediately below “Folsom Lake.” This, according to the map’s translator, was a
seki
: a dam.

The Japanese had dug ditches and dammed rivers for irrigation purposes for centuries, perhaps millenia. Neither Matsudaira nor the shogunate officials who had sent him had thought to question the presence of a dam, in California. Even the red-haired barbarians, the Dutch, had said they had dams, after all, so why not the California Indians?

But the Japanese had seen no trace of native agriculture. And if there was no agriculture, there would be no need for irrigation . . . or for dams. Shigehisa hurriedly explained his reasoning to Lord Matsudaira.

Lord Matsudaira tried to stand, lost his balance, and nearly fell out of the boat. When he regained his seating, and his dignity, he stated the logical implication: “And so the lake doesn’t exist either. We were on the American River after all, and we didn’t realize it!”

His expression changed from thunderous to uncertain. “But wait. What about the water level for Sutter’s sawmill?”

Shigehisa shrugged. “Perhaps it is still the dry season for this region.”

“All right. First thing tomorrow morning, we head back downstream. At least it should be easier paddling back down the Sacramento than paddling up.”

Lower American River

What wasn’t easier than before was paddling
up
the
American
River; the water levels were still low. Only the seagulls, walking along the edges of the gravel bars, were happy; the salmon had spawned and lay dying, practically at their feet.

Lord Matsudaira looked like he had swallowed something unpleasant, but was too polite to spit it out. “Shigehisa! What is your advice?”

“Let’s leave the boats under guard here, and escort the miners upstream until they find the gold. When the water level rises we can bring up the boats.”

Lord Matsudaira agreed, and assigned Shigehisa to command the boat guard—the captain, the first mate, the sailors, and another samurai. Lord Matsudaira and the remaining four samurai left with the miners the next day.

* * *

Kiyoshi, the foreman of Lord Matsudaira’s miners, wondered once again what horrible crime he could have committed in his last incarnation in order to find himself on the American River, looking for gold.

Kiyoshi and his crew came from the great gold and silver mine at Aikawa, on the western coast of Sado Island, which lay off the coast of the province of Echigo. The gold was discovered in 1601 by a local merchant. The miners of Aikiwa were accustomed to digging through andesite tuff with chisels and hammers, following the great Torigoye vein several hundred feet underground.

Confronted with the American River, meandering across its flood plain, they had not the slightest idea where to start looking for gold.

But having observed how Lord Matsudaira treated the captain, Kiyoshi was quite certain it would not be wise to admit this.

Monterey Bay

At Masamune’s request, several boats of fishermen had gone looking for sea otters. They found them, floating on their backs in the waters off Kodachi Machi/Santa Cruz, and also on the wild side of the Monterey Peninsula between Monterey and Carmel.

At first, the Japanese fishermen hunted the sea otters more or less the way they hunted dolphins back home; their boats spread out in an arc and drove them, with nets strung between the boats, toward the shore. This didn’t work quite as well with sea otters as it did with dolphins, because sea otters could run away on land. Hence, they found it was necessary to first set some men down on the beach, armed with spears and clubs, before starting the otter drive.

Only a few hunts were carried out, because the Japanese had no special fondness for otter meat, and they had no idea how well the furs would sell in China or Japan. Some sample furs would be sent back home, and, well, the Second Fleet would come in 1635 and tell the colonists whether to harvest more.

* * *

“Next,” said Inawashiro Yoshimichi. He took a moment to smooth out his formal
kami-shimo
.

One of the
kirishitan
waiting patiently in line came forward.

“Name?”

“Yamaguchi Takuma.”

“Can you write?”

“Yes, sir.”

Inawashiro handed him three sheets of mulberry bark paper, a brush, a pot of ink, and an ink-stone.

“Write your letters to home today, the ships are leaving this week. Tell your
kirishitan
relatives and acquaintances how wonderful it is to be a
kirishitan
in New Nippon. It is wonderful, neh?”

“Yes, but—”

“Next!”

November 1634,

Monterey Bay

Winter had come, and with it, increased fog and rain. The rains swelled the Salinas, and at last the river broke through the sand bar that had puzzled Masamune’s advisers, forming the southern mouth of the river. They knew from the encyclopedia entry on California that summers would be dry; they surmised that in the summer, the ocean would reform the sand bar.

They had asked First-to-Dance about the river, and she had told them “water come, water go.” At first, they thought that she meant that the river was a place of flowing water. But now, they feared that she meant that the river actually dried up during the summer. That didn’t happen in Japan, but the scholars knew that it was a problem in western China.

Orders were given for irrigation ditches to be dug, and streamlets dammed to catch the rain and hold it for future use.

Between modern Gilroy and Hollister

“I think that’s the river channel we want,” said Saburo.

“You said that the last two times, too,” said Jiro. “They were both dead ends.”

“Well, I have to be right sooner or later. If only I could see through the mountains, right to the sea.”

Jiro looked at Saburo. “The mountains, younger brother, are a manifestation of the Illusion we call the World. To see through it, you must—fuck!” Jiro had just tripped over Saburo’s outstretched foot.

“The foot, elder brother, is also Illusion,” Saburo said airily. “Perhaps we can pretend that the mountains are at least as real as my foot?”

* * *

Jiro and Saburo had gained some hope when the channel they were following joined another, larger one. Still, they had yet to see Monterey Bay. It was already late in the day, so they started to make camp.

“Jiro, wait, I think I saw a horseman crest that hill.”

“That’s preposterous—Hey, I saw him, too!”

“Indians?”

With the air of superiority that is genetically incorporated into older brothers, Jiro told Saburo, “The Indians don’t have horses.”

“So those must be Japanese! Fellow samurai!”