David Mitchell - The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet

Unimpressed, Vorstenbosch takes up the Dutch translation and reads.

The clock’s pendulum scrapes at time like a sexton’s shovel.

William the Silent looks into a future that became past long, long ago.

‘Why does this letter,’ Vorstenbosch addresses Kobayashi over his half-moon glasses, ‘omit any mention of Dejima’s impending closure?’

‘I was not present,’ Kobayashi says innocently, ‘at Edo when reply made.’

‘One wonders whether your translation of Governor van Overstraten’s original letter was enhanced à la mode of your notorious peacock feathers?’

Kobayashi looks at Iwase as if to say, Can you make sense of this remark?

‘Translation,’ declares Iwase, ‘had seals of all four senior interpreters.’

‘Ali Baba,’ mutters Lacy, ‘had forty thieves: did they make him honest?’

‘Our question, gentlemen, is this.’ Vorstenbosch stands. ‘Shall nine thousand six hundred piculs buy Dejima a twelve-month stay of execution?’

Iwase translates this for the benefit of Chamberlain Tomine.

Eaves drip; dogs bark; an angry rash itches against Jacob’s stockings.

‘The Shenandoah has space for Dejima’s stock.’ Lacy fishes in his jacket for a jewelled box of snuff. ‘We can begin loading this afternoon.’

‘Shall we incur the wrath of our masters in Batavia,’ Vorstenbosch taps the barometer, ‘by accepting this paltry increase and keep Dejima open? Or…’ Vorstenbosch strolls to the grandfather clock and scrutinises its venerable dial ‘… abandon this unprofitable factory and deprive a backward Asian island of its single European ally?’

Lacy snorts a huge pinch of snuff. ‘Jesus have Mercy: a fine kick!’

Kobayashi keeps his gaze on the chair Vorstenbosch vacated.

‘Nine thousand six hundred piculs,’ states Vorstenbosch, ‘purchases a year’s reprieve for Dejima. Send a message to Edo. Send to Saga for the copper.’

Iwase’s relief is apparent as he informs Tomine of the news.

The Magistrate’s chamberlain nods, as if no other decision was viable.

Kobayashi gives his sinister and sardonic bow.

‘Chief Resident Unico Vorstenbosch,’ writes Jacob, ‘accepted this offer…’

‘But Governor van Overstraten,’ warns the Chief, ‘shall not be rebuffed twice.’

‘… but warned interpreters,’ adds the clerk’s quill, ‘settlement is not final.’

‘We must redouble our efforts to earn the Company just recompense for the dreadful risks and inflated expenses of this factory. But for today let us adjourn.’

‘A moment, Chief Resident, please,’ says Kobayashi. ‘More good news.’

Jacob feels something malign entering the State Room.

Vorstenbosch leans on the back of his chair. ‘Oh?’

‘I exhort at Magistracy very much about stealed teapot. I say, “If we do not find teapot, great dishonour falls on our nation.” So, chamberlain sends many…’ he asks for Iwase’s help ‘… yes, “constables”, many constables, to find teapot. Today, at Guild, when I finish’ – Kobayashi gestures at his translation of the Shogun’s reply – ‘messenger arrive from Magistracy. Jade teapot of Chongzhen Emperor is found.’

‘Oh? Good. What…’ Vorstenbosch looks for a trap ‘… what is its condition?’

‘Perfect condition. Two thiefses confessed to crime.’

‘One thief,’ Iwase continues, ‘make box in Constable Kosugi’s palanquin. Other thief put teapot into box in palanquin, and so smuggled through Land-Gate.’

‘How,’ asks van Cleef, ‘were the thieves captured?’

‘I advise,’ says Kobayashi, whilst Iwase explains to the chamberlain the matter now in hand, ‘Magistrate Ômatsu offer reward so thiefses were betrayed. My plan worked. Teapot shall deliver later today. There is better news: Magistrate Ômatsu grant permission to execute thieves in Flag Square.’

‘Here?’ Vorstenbosch’s satisfaction clouds over. ‘On Dejima? When?’

‘Before Shenandoah departs,’ Iwase answers, ‘after morning muster.’

‘So all Dutchmen,’ Kobayashi’s smile is saintly, ‘can see Japanese justice.’

The shadow of a bold rat trots along the oiled paper pane.

You demanded blood, is Kobayashi’s challenge, for your precious teapot…

The watch bell on the Shenandoah rings.

… are you now man enough, the interpreter waits, to accept delivery?

The hammering on the roof of Warehouse Lelie stops.

‘Excellent,’ says Vorstenbosch. ‘Convey my thanks to Magistrate Ômatsu.’

In Warehouse Doorn, Jacob dips his quill into the ink and writes across the hitherto blank title page: True and Complete Investigation into the Misgovernance of Dejima during the Residences of Gijsbert Hemmij and Daniel Snitker, including Rectifications to those False Ledgers submitted by the Above-named. For a moment he considers adding his name, but the rash idea passes. As his patron, Vorstenbosch has every right to pass off his underling’s work as his own. And maybe, Jacob thinks, it is safer this way. Any councillor in Batavia whose illicit profits Jacob’s Investigation curtails could finish a lowly clerk with a single stroke of a pen. Jacob places a sheet of blotting paper on the page and evenly presses it down.

It is finished, thinks the tired-eyed clerk.

Red-nosed Hanzaburo sneezes and wipes his nose on a fistful of straw.

A pigeon trills on the high window-ledge.

Ouwehand’s penetrating voice hurries past, along Bony Alley.

However widely Dejima was or wasn’t believed to be on the brink of closure, the morning’s news has roused the factory from lethargy. The copper – many hundreds of crates – shall arrive within four days. Captain Lacy wants it loaded in the Shenandoah’s hold within six, and to be leaving Nagasaki in a week, before winter turns the China Sea wild and mountainous. Questions that Vorstenbosch has equivocated upon all summer long shall be resolved in the next few days. Shall the men be given the paltry official quota for private goods in the Shenandoah, or what they grew used to under Vorstenbosch’s predecessors? Deals with merchants are being negotiated with keen urgency. Is Peter Fischer or Jacob de Zoet to be the next head clerk, with the greater salary and control over the Shipping Office? And shall Vorstenbosch use my Investigation, Jacob wonders, putting his report into his portmanteau, to condemn Daniel Snitker alone, or shall other scalps be claimed? The cabal of smugglers that operates from Batavia ’s warehouses has friends as high up as the Council of the Indies, but Jacob’s report gives enough evidence for a reform-minded governor-general to shut them down.

Obeying a whim, Jacob clambers up the tower of crates.

Hanzaburo makes a Heh? noise and sneezes again.

From William Pitt’s roost, Jacob sees fiery maples in the tired mountains.

Orito was absent from yesterday’s seminar in the Hospital…

Nor has Ogawa come to Dejima since the day of the typhoon.

But one modest gift, he assures himself, cannot have had her banished…

Jacob secures the shutters, climbs down, takes up his portmanteau, ushers Hanzaburo into Bony Alley and locks the warehouse door.

Jacob emerges at the Crossroads in time to meet Eelattu walking up Short Street. Eelattu is supporting a gaunt young man, dressed in an artisan’s loose trousers, tied at the ankles, a padded jacket and a European hat last in style fifty years ago. Jacob notes the youth’s sunken eyes, lunar complexion and lethargic gait and thinks, Consumption. Eelattu bids Jacob a good morning but does not introduce his charge, who, the clerk now sees, is not a pure-blood Japanese but a Eurasian with hair browner than black and eyes as round as his own. The visitor doesn’t notice him in the alley’s mouth, and continues down Long Street towards the Hospital.