Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan (27 page)
Read Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan Online
Authors: Giles Milton
Edo was a wealthy city whose streets were thronged with courtiers and noblemen dressed in fine silken kimonos. The richest
and most ostentatious of these feudal lords wore flamboyant robes decorated with exquisite patterns of blossoms and leaves. “They intermingle gold among the flowers,” wrote Padre João Rodrigues, “ … and they are especially clever in their use of crimsons and, even more, of violets.” In summer, the men wrapped their bellies in sashes of hemp or linen, while “all the noble and aristocratic ladies … wear silk gloves which cover the back of the hand.” Their most extraordinary item of clothing was their footwear. The Japanese were accustomed to wear goatskin slippers, which were held onto the feet by a twisted straw rope. In the rain, they changed into chunky wooden clogs that were strapped to their big toes with a thong.
and most ostentatious of these feudal lords wore flamboyant robes decorated with exquisite patterns of blossoms and leaves. “They intermingle gold among the flowers,” wrote Padre João Rodrigues, “ … and they are especially clever in their use of crimsons and, even more, of violets.” In summer, the men wrapped their bellies in sashes of hemp or linen, while “all the noble and aristocratic ladies … wear silk gloves which cover the back of the hand.” Their most extraordinary item of clothing was their footwear. The Japanese were accustomed to wear goatskin slippers, which were held onto the feet by a twisted straw rope. In the rain, they changed into chunky wooden clogs that were strapped to their big toes with a thong.
Cocks had told Wickham that money was no object when he came to renting accommodation. “Take up your lodging in the best merchante’s howse in the towne,” he said, adding that “to live under the roofe of a naturall Japon[ner] is better than to be in the howse of any stranger.” Adams was fortunate to have family contacts in Edo and he introduced Wickham to his father-in-law, Magome Kageyu, who was still superintendent of the packhorse exchange. Magome was offered employment as Wickham’s subagent, with responsibility for safeguarding the English wares, and he was also charged with introducing the English to his business contacts. It quickly became apparent that he was a “crafty fellow” who was so adept at filching money that the English gave him the nickname Niccolo Machiavelli.
Wickham’s
jurabassos,
or interpreters, were equally dishonest. They were hired for their knowledge of Portuguese, which had become the lingua franca for trade in Japan, but spent much of their time stealing supplies from the little English storehouse. Only Adams was able to keep them under control. Once he had left, they ran circles around Wickham, prompting him to write to Eaton informing him that they were “villains and deceavers every way, and not any to be trusted.”
jurabassos,
or interpreters, were equally dishonest. They were hired for their knowledge of Portuguese, which had become the lingua franca for trade in Japan, but spent much of their time stealing supplies from the little English storehouse. Only Adams was able to keep them under control. Once he had left, they ran circles around Wickham, prompting him to write to Eaton informing him that they were “villains and deceavers every way, and not any to be trusted.”
Although Wickham faced formidable difficulties, he had high
hopes of turning Edo into a successful base. He had arrived at a propitious moment, for hundreds of wealthy Japanese noblemen had flocked to the city to celebrate the rebuilding of the castle. Many of them now pitched up at his little warehouse and asked to view his selection of broadcloth.
hopes of turning Edo into a successful base. He had arrived at a propitious moment, for hundreds of wealthy Japanese noblemen had flocked to the city to celebrate the rebuilding of the castle. Many of them now pitched up at his little warehouse and asked to view his selection of broadcloth.
Unfortunately, this was not possible. The goods had not yet arrived from Hirado, and Wickham found himself in the infuriating position of having potential buyers but no goods. He was so distraught that he caught “an ague” and wrote a letter to William Nealson informing him that he was “so wearied … that I have had no time to gather matter to write unto you.” When Cocks learned of Wickham’s misfortune, he was angry rather than upset: “For if we stay seven years more in Japan, we shall never have the like time to have vented our cloth as at this general assembly of the nobility.”
The Dutch in Hirado soon heard rumors of the disaster and took advantage of the situation by sending their own cloth to Edo. Their timing was perfect, and they returned from their mission with large quantities of silver. This proved too much for Wickham to bear. When events conspired against him, his first reaction was to look for someone to blame. On this occasion, he did not have to look far. “I cannot tell what to thinke or speake of Captain Adams,” he wrote in a private letter to Cocks, “but I much suspect playing of both sides.”
Wickham’s suspicions had been aroused by Adams’s insistence that the goods be delivered by sea. The Dutch usually transported theirs by land, and Wickham began to wonder if Adams was deliberately sabotaging English trade. He stopped short of accusing Adams to his face “because I knew not how to remedy it.” But he warned Cocks of his suspicions and told him that it would “serve for a caveat against the next occasion.”
Cocks, deeply shocked by Wickham’s accusations, conducted a full and thorough investigation. He quickly discovered that the fault lay with the porter charged with transporting the goods and
that Adams was in no way to blame. Yet Wickham had sowed the seeds of doubt in his mind, so he took the bizarre precautionary measure of giving employment to one of the
Liefde’s
Dutch survivors, the treacherous Gisbert de Coning, who had been shunned by Adams ever since the ship’s arrival in Japan. Gisbert soon proved to be as ineffectual as he was unpopular and became yet another drain on Cocks’s dwindling resources.
that Adams was in no way to blame. Yet Wickham had sowed the seeds of doubt in his mind, so he took the bizarre precautionary measure of giving employment to one of the
Liefde’s
Dutch survivors, the treacherous Gisbert de Coning, who had been shunned by Adams ever since the ship’s arrival in Japan. Gisbert soon proved to be as ineffectual as he was unpopular and became yet another drain on Cocks’s dwindling resources.
Wickham’s new home in Edo was more than 500 miles from Hirado, but he received frequent letters from his colleagues. On one occasion, Cocks wrote him a gossipy note to inform him that their former landlord, Li Tan, had serious marital troubles. He had had frequent explosive rows with Mrs. Tan and on one occasion had handed her his sword and told her to “cut off her littell finger”—a command that she would meekly have obeyed had she not been stopped by her maidservant, Maria. It was now Maria who became the object of Li Tan’s wrath. “[She] paid deare for it, having her left thum almost cut off.”
A few days later, Wickham received a cryptic letter from William Nealson in which his friend confessed to some extremely exciting news. The letter was written in riddles, puns, and code in order to conceal the sensitive information it contained. “For the exposition of this riddle,” wrote Nealson, “construe thus: all that is not cuckolds that wear hornes.” It continued in a similar fashion for almost half a page, giving tantalizing clues as to its meaning. “Read this reversed,” it instructed, “
ad dextro ad sinistro:
OIGNI-TAM.” Then, assuming that Wickham had solved the riddle, it ended: “What, man! What is the matter? Methinkes you make crosses, for never muse at the matter, it is true.” The news was indeed exciting: Nealson had slept with Cocks’s mistress, Matinga. The exuberant tone of the letter reveals his delight, but he also knew that Cocks would be distraught if he discovered Matinga’s infidelity. “Be not a blabb of your toung,” he wrote to Wickham. “Whatsoever I write you of hence-forward, condemne ether to flux [sea] or the fire.” Happily, Wickham did not follow his
friend’s advice; Nealson’s confession can still be read in the British Library.
ad dextro ad sinistro:
OIGNI-TAM.” Then, assuming that Wickham had solved the riddle, it ended: “What, man! What is the matter? Methinkes you make crosses, for never muse at the matter, it is true.” The news was indeed exciting: Nealson had slept with Cocks’s mistress, Matinga. The exuberant tone of the letter reveals his delight, but he also knew that Cocks would be distraught if he discovered Matinga’s infidelity. “Be not a blabb of your toung,” he wrote to Wickham. “Whatsoever I write you of hence-forward, condemne ether to flux [sea] or the fire.” Happily, Wickham did not follow his
friend’s advice; Nealson’s confession can still be read in the British Library.
Cocks, too, had been sowing his oats. Disappointed by Matinga’s alleged frigidity, he took steps to find himself a more active bed companion. “I bought a wench yisterday,” he wrote to Wickham. “She is but twelve yeares old, oversmall yet for trade, but yow would littell thinke that I have another forthcominge that is more lapedable [fuckable].” In an unconscious echo of Nealson, he added, “you must be no blab of your tongue,” although he was sure that Wickham would convey his secret to the others and probably found the idea rather pleasing. Wickham was indeed impressed that the aging Cocks was still interested in sex and warned that he should take care not to impregnate the young girl: “You old chipps are most dangerous fuell [when] standing near such tinder boxes.”
The other men would have done well to heed this advice, for it was not long before they discovered that their concubines had fallen pregnant. Eaton’s woman bore him two children in succession—named William and Helena—while Sayers’s mistress, Maria, gave birth to a daughter. Nealson also had a “girle,” and Adams, too, found himself with an ever-growing family. He had already sired two children, Joseph and Susanna, who were living with their mother in Hemi. Now he learned that he was to be the father of another child—the product of his long and lonely months in Hirado. Unlike the other men, he was embarrassed by the birth and never mentioned it in his letters.
Cocks grew increasingly optimistic about trade as spring gave way to summer. Wickham had managed to sell his stockpile of lead, and prospects were looking good for Eaton’s factory in Osaka. Tempest Peacock and Walter Carwarden had set sail for Cochinchina and had high hopes of success, while young Edmund Sayers was attempting trade in Tsushima. Cocks harbored grandiose dreams of expanding his trade empire into inland Korea, even though initial reports were not encouraging. He was told
that Korea’s biggest cities were surrounded by “mighty boggs, so that no man can travel on horseback.” The only way to reach them was to use amphibious “waggons or carts,” which used sails to cross the waterlogged land.
that Korea’s biggest cities were surrounded by “mighty boggs, so that no man can travel on horseback.” The only way to reach them was to use amphibious “waggons or carts,” which used sails to cross the waterlogged land.
from Arnoldus Montanus’s Atlas Japannensis, 1670
.
.
Richard Cocks and his men enjoyed the company of Japanese prostitutes (above, note the décolleté kimono), They also had long-term mistresses, and swapped partners on scveral occasions.
Throughout the spring of 1614, William Adams had been helping the men embark on their adventures. Now that they had all left Hirado, he was keen to set off on his own intended voyage to Siam. When news of this reached Edo, Wickham begged to be allowed to join the expedition. This was not because of any desire to spend more time in Adams’s company, but because he saw the voyage as an excellent opportunity to dabble in private trade. “Honest” Mr. Cocks failed to grasp Wickham’s ulterior motive and willingly gave his consent. The factory in Edo was temporarily closed, and Wickham made his way back to Hirado.
It took many weeks for Adams to repair his junk, the
Sea Adventure
, and many months to hire the 120-strong Japanese crew. He also engaged two European traders—an Italian and a Castilian—who had been employed as commercial agents for the English in Nagasaki. It was November 1614 by the time the vessel finally put to sea, and the weather was on the turn. The
Sea Adventure
had scarcely left the Japanese coastline when she was battered by a ferocious electric storm. The wild seas lashed at the recent repairs, loosening timbers and pouring water into the hold. For a day and a night, the Japanese crew labored “to heave out and pumpe the water continually,” but the water continued to rise. To their horror, they realized that the vessel was filling faster than they could empty her.
Sea Adventure
, and many months to hire the 120-strong Japanese crew. He also engaged two European traders—an Italian and a Castilian—who had been employed as commercial agents for the English in Nagasaki. It was November 1614 by the time the vessel finally put to sea, and the weather was on the turn. The
Sea Adventure
had scarcely left the Japanese coastline when she was battered by a ferocious electric storm. The wild seas lashed at the recent repairs, loosening timbers and pouring water into the hold. For a day and a night, the Japanese crew labored “to heave out and pumpe the water continually,” but the water continued to rise. To their horror, they realized that the vessel was filling faster than they could empty her.
The attitude of their reckless English captain only increased their sense of terror. Adams appeared to be enjoying their predicament, urging them on in their endeavors and putting “the merchantes and other idle passengers unto such a feare that they began to murmure and mutiny.” As the winds howled and the waves crashed over the deck, the crew rebelled and told Adams that they would refuse to pump unless he headed immediately for the Ryukyu Islands in the East China Sea. Adams had little option but to agree. With heavy heart, he steered the vessel toward the subtropical island of Great Ryukyu—today’s Okinawa—which lay some 500 miles to the south of Hirado.
This palm-fringed island was one of the few places where Japanese and Chinese merchants could engage in direct trade. Until 1609, Ryukyu had been an independent kingdom and its prosperous rulers had lived in considerable splendor in the lacquered glory of Shuri Castle. Now, their hereditary lands had fallen under the control of the Japanese lord of Satsuma, who hoped that this remote outpost of his fiefdom would continue to be an entrepôt for foreign trade.
Adams and his storm-battered men staggered ashore after a harrowing voyage and “found marvelous great friendship.” They
were handed rice, hams, and turnips, and Adams was permitted to land his goods while the punctured ship was repaired. A more grateful crew might have considered themselves fortunate to have been washed up in this lush paradise with its pristine beaches and year-round tropical climate. But these unruly men complained about the stifling humidity and were irritated by the hungry mosquitoes. They demanded half their wages, spent it on liquor, then vented their anger on each other. “This day, all our officers, mariners and passengers rose up in armes to fight one with another,” wrote an appalled Adams. He tried to stop the “bludshed,” but Ryukyu’s ruthless headman had already received news of the brawl. He plucked out the ringleader, unsheathed his sword, and hacked the unfortunate man into pieces.
were handed rice, hams, and turnips, and Adams was permitted to land his goods while the punctured ship was repaired. A more grateful crew might have considered themselves fortunate to have been washed up in this lush paradise with its pristine beaches and year-round tropical climate. But these unruly men complained about the stifling humidity and were irritated by the hungry mosquitoes. They demanded half their wages, spent it on liquor, then vented their anger on each other. “This day, all our officers, mariners and passengers rose up in armes to fight one with another,” wrote an appalled Adams. He tried to stop the “bludshed,” but Ryukyu’s ruthless headman had already received news of the brawl. He plucked out the ringleader, unsheathed his sword, and hacked the unfortunate man into pieces.
The local officials now decided that they had shown enough tolerance toward these riotous men. They ordered the
Sea Adventure
to leave, ignoring Adams’s pleas that he had not yet acquired “those necessaries that our junk wanteth.” They also refused to engage in trade, leaving him to count his losses. The voyage had cost more than £140, money that the factory could ill afford, and had engendered much bad feeling in Ryukyu. Only one man aboard Adams’s junk had managed to make money out of the disaster. Richard Wickham had discovered that ambergris—a perfumed resin—was far cheaper in Ryukyu than elsewhere in the East. He also knew that this rare commodity was highly prized in Japan, where it was used as a flavoring. Wickham seized his chance, buying a modest two pounds in weight for the Hirado factory and a staggering 260 pounds for himself. He later sold some of this to the factory at a 50 percent markup, yielding himself a massive profit. He sold another batch in secret through an agent in Nagasaki and sent a third supply to Bantam. It was almost two years before Cocks learned the extent of Wickham’s double-dealings, by which time it was too late to take action.
Sea Adventure
to leave, ignoring Adams’s pleas that he had not yet acquired “those necessaries that our junk wanteth.” They also refused to engage in trade, leaving him to count his losses. The voyage had cost more than £140, money that the factory could ill afford, and had engendered much bad feeling in Ryukyu. Only one man aboard Adams’s junk had managed to make money out of the disaster. Richard Wickham had discovered that ambergris—a perfumed resin—was far cheaper in Ryukyu than elsewhere in the East. He also knew that this rare commodity was highly prized in Japan, where it was used as a flavoring. Wickham seized his chance, buying a modest two pounds in weight for the Hirado factory and a staggering 260 pounds for himself. He later sold some of this to the factory at a 50 percent markup, yielding himself a massive profit. He sold another batch in secret through an agent in Nagasaki and sent a third supply to Bantam. It was almost two years before Cocks learned the extent of Wickham’s double-dealings, by which time it was too late to take action.
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