King Foyne’s retainers enjoyed a particularly comfortable existence in Hirado, whose streets were often crowded with finely attired
courtiers, merchants, and soldiers. “This Hirado lieth close by the water,” wrote one Englishman who arrived a few years later. “The common people go clad in armour, but your gentry go very well and richly clad with short cloakes, and are carried in palinquins, having a pike of eight or ten foot long carried before them.”
It did not take long for Saris’s men to find a property that was suitable for their needs. It was owned by the head of the local Chinese community, Li Tan, and provided handsome living quarters and a spacious warehouse in which to store supplies. Li agreed to undertake essential repair works and “furnish all convenient roomes with matts according to the fashion of the countery.” The English, in return, agreed to pay six months’ rent in advance.
Saris struck an additional deal with Li, in which the Chinese man would also supply the men with food and drink. This arrangement was not at all to the liking of the men who had been temporarily landed in Hirado. Jasper, one of the ship’s carpenters, was so unhappy at the quality of the food that he abused the Chinese man “very grocely” and said “that his wine was not good, and [began] throwing his dishes about the howse.” Li had never witnessed such petulant behavior and was shaken by the experience. So was Captain Saris, who ordered the boatswain’s mate to flog the truculent Jasper. But the boatswain’s mate was too drunk to comply, so Saris himself gave both men a thrashing. Just a few hours later—perhaps repenting of his severity—he sent ashore two hogsheads of wine and one of cider.
He also sent gifts for the Japanese, having learned that it was the custom in Japan. King Foyne was given more than seventy presents and, as each one was ceremoniously opened in sight of the
Clove
, Saris ordered his cannon to be fired, “[it] being the fashion so to doe.” A further boatload of gifts was sent to other members of the royal household, while various notables were given cloths and cottons. When the young King Figen told Saris how much he liked his gold-fringed parasol, the captain reluctantly
took the hint and presented it to him. King Figen was delighted and “most kindlye accepted, requiting me with a million of compliment.”
Saris had yet to make contact with the small group of Dutchmen in Hirado. Jacques Specx was temporarily absent and his place had been filled by Captain Hendrick Brouwer, a duplicitous individual who had watched the
Clove
’s arrival with considerable alarm. Saris hunted high and low for something suitable to present to Captain Brouwer before finally selecting “a pott of English butter,” which, after more than two years at sea, must have been distinctly rancid. It was clear to both men that the close proximity of the Dutch and English factories could lead to rivalries. Saris tried to preempt any difficulties by striking a trade agreement, which forbade each party from undercutting the other. But scarcely twelve hours had passed before the Dutch captain had broken the agreement, “excusing himselfe that he had no warrant from his masters.”
When the two men next met, Captain Brouwer proved even less amenable. He informed Saris that a richly laden junk had recently arrived from Siam with a cargo of sappanwood that had been procured by Lucas Antheunis. Saris’s initial reaction was one of satisfaction, for the wood could be sold for an enormous profit and would be a great boon for the newly founded factory. He was rather less pleased—and more than a little suspicious—to be told that the Dutch had already bought the cargo and intended to sell it for their own account. Captain Brouwer showed Saris a scrap of paper as proof of purchase, but the English captain was not convinced and told the Dutchman, “I would not be jested with.” He said that if he was not given more reliable evidence of the deal, he would “take that course as should not be pleasing to him.” It was an ominous beginning to the relationship between the English and the Dutch in Japan.
It was several days before news of the
Clove
’s arrival reached William Adams and several weeks before he was able to set out on
the 600-mile voyage from Edo to Hirado. But at the end of July 1613, he crossed from Kyushu to Hirado Island and caught sight of the
Clove
at anchor in the bay. At last—after more than thirteen years in Japan—he would meet fellow Englishmen again.
Saris was extremely excited when he learned of Adams’s arrival. He had heard a great deal about the English pilot and knew that he held the key to trade with Japan. He also knew—for it was contained in his instructions for the voyage—that he must treat Adams with all possible respect. With this in mind, he ordered his men to prime their cannon in honor of the shogun’s English adviser. “I receaved him in the best manner I could,” he wrote. But as Adams approached the vessel, Saris’s smile turned into a frown. He had expected to meet a down-to-earth English sea dog, much like the men he had aboard the
Clove
. Instead, he found himself gazing upon an extraordinary apparition. The man was English, of that there was no question, but one who was dressed and acted as if he had been born and brought up in Japan. He gave “so admirable and affectionated commendations of the country as it is generally thought amongest us that he is a naturalised Japanner.” William Adams of Limehouse had gone native.
Captain Saris realized that this was not the moment for criticism. Adams was intelligent, spoke the unfathomable language, and was exceptionally well informed. Although it grieved Saris, he knew that he had little option but to fuss and fawn over his eccentric guest. “I entreated him to make choise of any chambers in the howse,” he wrote, “and to acquaint the cooke what diet he best affected, and [ordered that] it should be provided.” He wanted Adams to be as comfortable as possible and told him that whenever he felt in need of some fresh air, “Mr Cocks and who-else of the marchants should, at his pleasure, accompany him in the towne.”
Adams halted Saris in mid-speech. He thanked him for his kind offer, but said that he had a Japanese friend in town—a merchant called Yasuemon—at whose house he usually stayed. Nor
did he wish “any marchant or other to accompany him,” informing the captain that he was quite happy to make his own way to Yasuemon’s house. Saris, who had expected Adams to be delighted with English company, noted that “all was very strange.” He was offended by his attitude and curtly informed Adams “to doe what he thought best.” But he could not stop himself from hinting that he thought Adams was behaving with the greatest discourtesy. He said that the sea voyage in the
Clove
had been extremely wearisome and that he—for one—would have been “glad to enjoye his most acceptable company.”
Adams listened with a sympathetic ear, but refused to change his mind. He told Saris that “he would be with me when I pleased to send for him … ether at his own howse, or at the Dutch.” This further infuriated Saris. He was prepared to accept that Adams wished to stay with his Japanese friends, but was most unhappy at the thought that he was on good terms with the Dutch. It was Captain Brouwer, after all, who had just refused to hand over the cargo of what Saris considered to be English sappanwood.
Several of the
Clove
’s crew were keen to chat with Adams and asked if they could accompany him back to his accommodation, “but he entreated the contrarye.” They too were offended and told their captain that they were “not well pleased, thinking that he thought them not good enoffe to walk with him.” Saris was completely taken aback by Adams’s mannerisms and viewed what he considered to be his affectations with scarcely concealed contempt. He confused his aloofness with arrogance and failed to understand Adams’s very real anxieties about the arrival of the
Clove
, with its crew of unkempt and unruly Englishmen. Nor was Saris aware that Japan was unlike any other realm that he and his men had visited during their long voyage from England. Etiquette and politesse were of the utmost importance in the Land of the Rising Sun—qualities that were in very short supply on board the Clove.
Saris was usually ready to criticize those who failed to please
him, but on this occasion he held his tongue. This was not the moment to speak his mind, for these were not normal circumstances. He even tried to fathom the cause of Adams’s strange behavior. He wondered if he was expecting some presents—as was the custom in Japan—and sent him a selection of cloth and trinkets “whereby he might have some feeling of his brothers.” When this brought no response, Saris sent a second parcel, which contained a Turkish carpet, silk garters, leather slippers from Spain, a flamboyant white hat, and a pair of detachable cuffs. This, at last, appeared to have pleased Adams. A few hours later he sent a return present—a finely crafted salvatory, or repository from Macao. Saris accepted it “kindly,” but noted in his diary that his own gift had cost a small fortune, while Adams’s was worth about six shillings.
Adams caused Saris further aggravation when the captain asked him to assess the value of the
Clove’
s cargo on the Japanese market. Adams made a careful survey of all the goods and cloths in the ship’s hold and was dismayed to discover that virtually nothing would have a ready market in Japan. Assuming that Saris wished to be told the truth—rather than what he wanted to hear—Adams informed him that “such thinges as he had brought was not very vendibel.” Cottons, he said, were “very cheep” while tin sold for a song. Cloves, which Saris had been careful to acquire in the Spice Islands, were not used at all in Japanese cookery. When the captain asked for an overall assessment of his likely success, Adams was noncommittal. He said “it was not allways alike, but sometimes better, sometimes worse, yet dowted not but we should doe as well as others.” Such honesty did not please Captain Saris. Unused to criticism, he suspected that Adams was deliberately trying to undermine his mission.
Saris had by now been in Hirado for about seven weeks and was anxious to visit the shogun’s court. This had been impossible without Adams, but now that he had arrived, Saris suggested that they make their voyage without further ado. Adams agreed and,
having secured the assistance of King Foyne, who lent the men a galley and some money, they prepared to depart. Before setting off, Saris handed over authority to Richard Cocks, the most senior merchant aboard the
Clove
. Cocks was ordered to uphold the strictest discipline on board ship during Saris’s absence. This was to prove easier said than done.
Adams led Saris out of Hirado in the first week of August 1613, along with ten other Englishmen, including a surgeon and a cook. He also brought an escort of seven Japanese guards who had been hired to protect the men as they traveled through the remoter stretches of countryside. The voyage to court entailed four weeks of continual travel. The city of Shizuoka, which Ieyasu had made his principal residence, lay more than 500 miles from Hirado. The quickest and safest route was to follow the Japanese coastline around the fractured northern coast of Kyushu. The men would then have to push their little galley through the treacherous Kanmon Channel, which led into the Inland Sea and on to the city of Osaka. From here, their voyage would take them across country until they joined the Tokaido, or Great Highway, which led to Shizuoka and beyond.
The men soon found that they were not everywhere treated with the same courtesy as in Hirado. When they stepped ashore at Hakata, on Kyushu’s northern coast, they were surrounded by an angry mob, “hooping, hollowing and making such a noise about us, that we could scarcely hear one another speake.” The town’s youth hurled stones at them, which, Adams informed them, was because they had been mistaken for Koreans. In Saris’s eyes, many of the women looked like the devil incarnate, for “their eyes, by continuall diving, doe grow as red as blood.”
When the men reached the Kanmon Channel, they pointed their galley southeast and entered the Inland Sea, which provided them with a relatively safe passage all the way to Osaka. The sheer scale of this city left a deep impression on Saris, as it had on Adams. It was “as great as London within the walls” and its monumental
castle was a work of technical genius. Saris marveled at the bulwarks and battlements; “the stones are great,” he wrote, “ … and are cut so exactly to fit the place where they are laid out [so] that no mortar is used.” The castle was home to the young Hideyori—the boy for whom Ieyasu had originally been appointed regent. He was now twenty years old and had recently been married to Ieyasu’s granddaughter.
The little party moored their galley at Osaka and continued to Fushimi by barque. Here, Saris caught his first glimpse of the formidable fighting force that Ieyasu could call upon in times of crisis. He watched the local garrison changing the guard “in most souldier-like manner, marching five abreast, and to every ten files an officer.” There was no pomp and pageantry, as there was in England, “neither had they any drums or other musicall instruments.” Nor was there any slovenly and disorderly behavior, as was usual when any English soldiers were on the march. The rigid, straight-backed foot soldiers carried their weaponry with pride and made for a menacing sight as they marched in formation through the countryside. Only their captain-general allowed himself any concessions to luxury. His horse was richly caparisoned in felts and furs and “he marched in great state,” proceeded by his crimson velvet palanquin carried by six officers.
The sight of these men on the move, and the discipline with which they were governed, was something that Saris would never forget. “Such good order was taken for the passing and providing for of these three thousand soldiers,” he wrote, “that no man, either travelling or inhabiting upon the way where they lodged, was any way injured by them.” Indeed, the owners of roadside inns and hostels were delighted to have the business and “cheerfully entertayned them as other their guests, because they paid for what they took.”