Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan (30 page)
Read Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan Online
Authors: Giles Milton
Before the ship’s departure, a general council was called to review trade with Japan. The men in Hirado were cautiously optimistic, even though the factory’s account books made for gloomy reading. Adams had convinced them that luxury goods from Indo-China could reap rich dividends in Japan, and Cocks and his team were expecting the imminent return of Tempest Peacock and Walter Carwarden. They also had high hopes of forging trade links with the mandarins of Ming dynasty China. Such an ambitious project would be impossible without increased manpower, and Captain Coppindale was asked to loan three of his crew to serve the factory. This was a high-risk strategy, for Cocks would have more mouths to feed. But they decided to take the gamble. Their only fear was that they had been abandoned to their fate by Sir Thomas Smythe and his fellow merchants, whose only interest—and motivation—was in returning a healthy profit on their investments.
A QUESTION OF LANGUAGE
S
IR THOMAS SMYTHE had long been accustomed to receiving uninvited guests at his London home. Philpot Lane was frequented by merchants, weather-beaten mariners, and experts in exploration—all of whom sought the good offices and influence of the governor of the East India Company. Such guests were usually received with warmth and affection, but on the morning of April 13, 1615, Smythe had found himself greeting a less than welcome visitor. Mary Adams, estranged wife of William, was so critically short of money that she had tramped all the way from Limehouse with her begging bowl.
IR THOMAS SMYTHE had long been accustomed to receiving uninvited guests at his London home. Philpot Lane was frequented by merchants, weather-beaten mariners, and experts in exploration—all of whom sought the good offices and influence of the governor of the East India Company. Such guests were usually received with warmth and affection, but on the morning of April 13, 1615, Smythe had found himself greeting a less than welcome visitor. Mary Adams, estranged wife of William, was so critically short of money that she had tramped all the way from Limehouse with her begging bowl.
Mary’s expenses had increased dramatically in recent years. Her paltry savings had long ago dried up, and she no longer had enough money to support her daughter, Deliverance, who was by now at least seventeen years of age. Mrs. Adams was in desperate need of cash for food and clothing, and pleaded with Sir Thomas to be “relieved with £30 of her said husband’s wages.” She was
perfectly entitled to such a sum; indeed, Adams himself had asked that Mary be remunerated with money that was owed to him by the company and had “promised satisfaction … at Japan, or elsewhere, or to be defaulted out of his salary.” But Smythe, always reluctant to part with his precious stockpile of silver, chose to prevaricate.
perfectly entitled to such a sum; indeed, Adams himself had asked that Mary be remunerated with money that was owed to him by the company and had “promised satisfaction … at Japan, or elsewhere, or to be defaulted out of his salary.” But Smythe, always reluctant to part with his precious stockpile of silver, chose to prevaricate.
His cold-hearted action was endorsed by the merchants of the company, who advised him to delay and dissemble, “and see if £20 would give her content for the present, and £10 this time 12 monneth.” However, Mrs. Adams refused to be browbeaten, and her persistence won the day. Whether or not she received the entire sum in one payment is not altogether clear, but she was certainly given part of the money. The uncharitable attitude of the directors did little to dampen her feisty spirit—indeed, it encouraged her to press her claims. She returned to the company headquarters on several future occasions to collect additional sums that she considered her due.
Mary Adams’s unwelcome visit was soon followed by rather more alarming news that had filtered back from the East. Smythe’s fearless captains had braved monsoons and typhoons in their quest for riches, and the company’s trading tentacles now stretched into distant and little-known seas, with remote outposts on swampy tropical islands and coral atolls in the fragrant “spiceries.” In these backwaters of the East, small bands of Englishmen found themselves rubbing shoulders with swaggering chieftains, tribal headhunters, and oriental princelets.
Many of these adventurers were living in such isolation that their behavior could not be checked by the merchants of the East India Company. The sober-minded directors assembled regularly at Smythe’s house and listened with dismay to rumors of brawls, bawdiness, and rambunctious whoring. Some of the most shocking stories came from Hirado, where tales of Cocks’s bacchanalian parties, enlivened by dancing damsels, chilled the blood of these puritanical merchants. But there was little they could do to rectify
this parlous state of affairs. Their few attempts to impose discipline from afar were greeted with derision and scorn by their servants in the East.
this parlous state of affairs. Their few attempts to impose discipline from afar were greeted with derision and scorn by their servants in the East.
from Arnoldus Montanus’s Atlas Japannensis, 1670
.
.
Sir Thomas Smythe and his fellow merchants were horrified by rumors of Richard Cocks’s drunken parties, enlivened by “players” (above) and dancing damsels. “It is a misery to know that men of such antique years should be so miserably given over to voluptuousness,” wrote one.
Smythe and his men were also concerned by the lack of account books from the remoter factories. Ships returned to England with pepper and spices, but it was anyone’s guess as to how much of the merchants’ silver had been siphoned off into the pockets of their corrupt and disreputable factors.
Sir Thomas undertook a thorough review of the Eastern trade and quickly realized that many of the problems stemmed from a
lack of regulation. He proposed a complete overhaul of company management, which included the establishment of regional depots, the restoration of discipline, and the prompt dispatch of a governor-general to the East Indies. This latter idea was copied from the Dutch, whose combative approach to trade had enabled them to seize control of numerous islands and atolls in the Spice Islands.
lack of regulation. He proposed a complete overhaul of company management, which included the establishment of regional depots, the restoration of discipline, and the prompt dispatch of a governor-general to the East Indies. This latter idea was copied from the Dutch, whose combative approach to trade had enabled them to seize control of numerous islands and atolls in the Spice Islands.
The London merchants’ most urgent task was to decide whom to appoint as their man in the East. The veteran sea captain Thomas Best proposed himself for the job, arguing that he was the only person in London who had the necessary “countenance and sufficiency.” But Best infuriated the merchants by demanding a large gratuity for his past services to the company, and Smythe wisely declined his offer. Instead, he plumped for William Keeling, an altogether more flamboyant commander who had successfully undertaken two previous voyages to the Indies.
Keeling was quite unlike any of his fellow sea captains. Cultivated and refined, he enjoyed his creature comforts and saw no reason why a lengthy voyage to the East should require hunger or hardship. He had a passion for amateur theatricals—he was particularly fond of Shakespearean tragedy—and found them a useful way of relieving the tedium of the long passage. On his 1607 expedition, he had encouraged his men to perform
Hamlet
on the tropical shores of West Africa. “We gave,” he recorded proudly, “the tragedie of Hamlett.” It had proved a triumphant success, and soon afterward his crew was busily rehearsing
Richard II
.
Hamlet
on the tropical shores of West Africa. “We gave,” he recorded proudly, “the tragedie of Hamlett.” It had proved a triumphant success, and soon afterward his crew was busily rehearsing
Richard II
.
When Keeling came to write his ship’s log, he eschewed the custom of recording depth soundings and wind directions in favor of a more entertaining style. “Let no man expect an exact reckoning of the shipp’s traverse,” he wrote, “ … nor let any think to find herein situations of countries.” Instead, he had decided to relate “only … the accidents hapning among his fleete.” When Keeling reached for his quill, it was to regale his readers with tales
of furious storms, merry banquets, and carousing with native chieftains.
of furious storms, merry banquets, and carousing with native chieftains.
With his proven track record in the Indies, Keeling was offered the position of “commander of the English throughout all India.” Yet there was some disquiet about his mercurial character and it was not long before the directors found themselves in dispute over a most unusual and unexpected affair. Keeling, it transpired, was so deeply in love with his wife that he announced his intention of taking her with him to the East. The directors were taken aback by such an unorthodox proposition, for it was an unwritten rule that women never sailed with their husbands. Indeed, they had already discussed “how inconvenient and unfitting it is for such women to go among so many unrulie sailors in a shipp.” Keeling disagreed and petitioned the court for permission to travel with his beloved Anna.
His request threw the straitlaced directors into a quandary. A few approved wholeheartedly, arguing that it would be “very fitting in regarde of the quiet of his minde and good of his soule.” They warned that it was unnatural to separate a married couple for so long and added that “a curse befalleth those that keepe a man and wife asunder.” Others disagreed and attacked the proposal with vehemence. They said that Anna, who was pregnant, was “a weake woman and unfitte for travaile.” They also claimed that she would stop Keeling from visiting the farthest-flung factories and that her presence would distract him from his business in the East.
Keeling was most unhappy when he was told this and informed the directors that having his wife on board would give “better blessinge in his labors.” He also appealed to their puritanical natures, suggesting that sharing his cabin with Anna would free his mind “from sundry corrupt thoughts.” It was a clever argument. The directors had been horrified by Saris’s collection of pornography and were no less happy to learn that their factors in
Japan were dallying with local women. Some of them now championed Keeling’s cause, asserting that factors were less likely to sleep with prostitutes if they traveled with their spouses. But when the issue was put to the vote, their petition was rejected.
Japan were dallying with local women. Some of them now championed Keeling’s cause, asserting that factors were less likely to sleep with prostitutes if they traveled with their spouses. But when the issue was put to the vote, their petition was rejected.
Keeling neither appealed nor complained. Indeed, he dropped his request so promptly that it was rumored he intended to smuggle Mrs. Keeling aboard ship shortly before his departure. The directors’ suspicions were confirmed when, in February 1615, a disguised Mrs. Keeling joined her husband aboard the
Red Dragon
. They were even more alarmed when they learned that she had been in secret negotiations to take a midwife with her. Loath to remove her forcibly from the ship, the directors instead threatened to discharge Keeling unless he capitulated. Keeling had no option but to accede to their demand, but he was extremely unhappy and wrote a stern letter to the directors reminding them that “there are very fewe [men] … who are able, notwithstandinge their best endevors, to live without the companie of women.”
Red Dragon
. They were even more alarmed when they learned that she had been in secret negotiations to take a midwife with her. Loath to remove her forcibly from the ship, the directors instead threatened to discharge Keeling unless he capitulated. Keeling had no option but to accede to their demand, but he was extremely unhappy and wrote a stern letter to the directors reminding them that “there are very fewe [men] … who are able, notwithstandinge their best endevors, to live without the companie of women.”
Keeling’s four-strong flotilla set sail in the spring of 1615 and was given a more extravagant farewell than usual. This was partly because the fleet was carrying Sir Thomas Roe, England’s first ambassador to India, who was being sent to the subcontinent to negotiate trading rights with the Mogul emperor. But it was also because Keeling’s mission was one of critical importance. At stake was the future of England’s trade with the East.
The outward voyage proved most agreeable, and the crews were given plenty of diversions to keep them merry. Keeling used rowing boats to keep in touch with his other captains and was forever sending them gifts of food and trinkets. He paid particular attention to Sir Thomas, lavishing presents and victuals on him. On one occasion, he sent Roe a sheep (which had been kept alive on the
Red Dragon
) along with one hundred “fresh” Weymouth oysters and some silk strings for his viol. A few days later, Keeling himself received a present—a set of six Italian madrigals—which he enjoyed enormously.
Red Dragon
) along with one hundred “fresh” Weymouth oysters and some silk strings for his viol. A few days later, Keeling himself received a present—a set of six Italian madrigals—which he enjoyed enormously.
The fleet sailed first to India, in order to land Sir Thomas Roe, then headed for Bantam. Despite the men’s healthy diet, they began to die as the fleet approached the coastline of Java. Some were ill with dysentery; others had scurvy; while a few were stricken with the calenture—a strange, mind-altering sickness in which the victim imagined the sea to be a lush green field into which he was impelled to leap.
Keeling announced his imminent arrival in Bantam with a blast of cannonfire, which quickly attracted the attention of John Jourdain, the factory president. Jourdain poured out a woeful tale of disease and bankruptcy. The corrupted air and malarial marshes had claimed the lives of many of his men, while trade had almost ground to a halt. The factory was no longer solvent, and those factors still alive had formed themselves into factions that were constantly at each other’s throats. But there was another, far more alarming crisis in the making—one that threatened every English outpost in the East, including Japan. The Dutch, who had hitherto limited their attacks to the Portuguese and Spanish, had now started to assault their erstwhile colleagues. This unwelcome development was as extraordinary as it was unexpected. The English and Dutch were old allies, and the two nations regularly manned each other’s ships. They shared the same religion and were united in their hatred of their Catholic rivals. Although there had always been tensions between rival traders in the East, these had escalated dramatically in recent months, and it now seemed as if the Dutch were bent on pursuing a far more hawkish policy.
They had already ejected English factors from the clove-covered island of Amboyna. Now they seemed intent on wresting control of the remote Banda Islands in order to deprive England of access to the fabulously valuable nutmeg. It was only a question of time before they would apply their aggressive policy to Japan, where Cocks and his men were already battling against insolvency.
Jourdain was particularly alarmed by the fact that violence had spilled over into the streets of Bantam. Several of his men had
been set upon by Dutch mariners, while fights and brutal attacks were becoming commonplace. One factor, Richard Hunt, was strolling along one of Bantam’s narrow alleys when he found his path blocked by two Dutchmen. They punched him to the ground and then called to twenty of their friends to assist in beating him black and blue. “[They] beate him very sore, and hailed him through the dirt by the haire of the head to their own howse, and set him in the bolts at their gate in the hott sunne, without hat.” They said that the purpose of their attack was to demonstrate to the native Javanese that the Dutch were stronger than the English.
been set upon by Dutch mariners, while fights and brutal attacks were becoming commonplace. One factor, Richard Hunt, was strolling along one of Bantam’s narrow alleys when he found his path blocked by two Dutchmen. They punched him to the ground and then called to twenty of their friends to assist in beating him black and blue. “[They] beate him very sore, and hailed him through the dirt by the haire of the head to their own howse, and set him in the bolts at their gate in the hott sunne, without hat.” They said that the purpose of their attack was to demonstrate to the native Javanese that the Dutch were stronger than the English.
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