The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun. Dirk van den Boom

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СКАЧАТЬ or other afflictions wouldn’t be construed as offensive or unruly behavior. He expressed his hope that the maiden voyage would be free of problems and praised the soldiers for their service. A little speech that should serve as general reassurance. Aritomo was astonished to find that, in spite of his superficial attention, it was effective. He felt a bit more relaxed and could recognize subtle signs of relief among his men. Everyone had been afraid of making a nasty mistake unintentionally, fatal in the immediate vicinity of such an exalted person. The visitor was obviously aware of this fear and had tried to do something about it.

      Aritomo frowned involuntarily.

      Why did a cadet, who lived and learned at a cadet school from morning to evening, actually need a private teacher?

      He looked at the young Prince, who stood beside his mentor, his face uninvolved, neither approving nor rejecting, but listening just as stoically as the tight-shouldered soldiers. For a moment, however, he looked up, moving his head slightly and glancing at the men’s line, stopping briefly at the eyes of Aritomo, highlighted by his position at the quayside and his officer’s uniform. Their eyes didn’t meet for a long time, but for the officer, that moment was rather unpleasant – and not because of a sudden reverence or some of the fear the teacher was trying to dispel.

      But because he had the impression that this look of the young prince had been so terribly … empty.

      Aritomo blinked. Inugami barked an order. The boat was to made ready. All men were expected at their stations before the guests arrived. No risks. Immediate haste commenced.

      Aritomo scared away the thought he had just had. He was foolish. Presumptuous. Nothing that had to occupy his brain. His duties lay elsewhere, and he gratefully accepted that insight, concentrating on making that journey of his beloved boat a great success.

      For Japan.

      For the Emperor.

      For himself.

      * * *

      They gave him the tour. It was tight, it was slightly stuffy, and despite all the words of the old teacher, everyone felt a bit uncomfortable in the immediate vicinity of the Prince. The boat was a little over fifty yards long: the front-end torpedo room, the engine department with the diesel and electric motors, the close quarters of the officers – all the other crewmen slept as best they could at their stations –, the control room under the bridge, that one located on the tower, the middle torpedo room from which the boat could launch torpedoes sideways, and the small fair where heated food and tea could be cooked. After all, the boat was so wide that in some places up to three men could stand side by side.

      The British engineer – Robert Lengsley was his name and he had behaved politely, friendly, even spoke some Japanese, indicating that he had been residing here for some time – stayed with Sarukazaki in the engine room.

      After everything had been shown, Aritomo exhaled in relief. Lieutenant Inugami had performed like a rooster in a chicken coop, lost himself in endless explanations, almost giving the impression that he had constructed this boat on his own, built it with his two hands, and could navigate it all on his own if allowed to do so. That the young Prince had tolerated these eulogies with disciplined calmness, spoke for the young man’s capacity for suffering, an ability that possibly had its roots in the strict education at court. The old teacher had asked some polite questions in the beginning, but then realized that Inugami took every other question just as a reason for a fresh speech, and it was all too obvious that the man wasn’t very comfortable in the confines of the boat.

      Inugami finally ordered, to everyone’s relief, that the boat should proceed on its voyage. The Prince wanted to watch this process outside, from the tower, which was universally accepted, because it meant that he and his companions would not contribute to the tightness aboard the ship. The commander himself insisted on accompanying the young man outside. Amazingly, the old teacher stayed down on in the control room. He seemed to consider the finiteness of the boat to be the lesser evil than having to endure Inugami’s lectures, and was visibly pleased when a cup of tea was served for him.

      Aritomo bowed to the old man. “I hope the boat doesn’t get too cramped for you, esteemed teacher.”

      “My name is Daiki Sawada, Lieutenant. I would be glad if you simply approached me as Mr. Sawada. The never-ending kowtowing is somehow misplaced in such a limited space. You bump easily into each other.”

      Aritomo smiled and bowed again. “Of course, Mr. Sawada. Your student seems to be very docile. He listened attentively to the lectures.”

      The old man’s gaze faded a little, as if searching for the right answer to this claim. His distress was ended by loud orders from above. There was not much to do on the bridge. Only the helmsman relayed the commander’s orders to the engine room. The soft vibration of the diesel engines filled the body of the boat as it drifted away from the quay with majestic composure – or great caution, depending on the point of view – and then slowly started up. It was not an exaggeratedly cool morning, so the wind was certainly been bearable at higher speed, and Inugami evidently linked the departure with a small harbor cruise for the Prince.

      Military music was audible from the quay, and the honorary company shouted with vigor: “Banzai!”

      Aritomo closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the subtle movements of the boat under his feet and the potential, still restrained, a dormant power at their command. It was an uplifting feeling and worth all of the effort.

      The weather played along. The sea was calm. Aritomo looked at the instruments in front of him, the diesel engine tachometer, the compass, the speedometer. He could feel the quiet sound, the perfect position of the boat in the water. Everything went so well together. It was a marvel of technology.

      “All the writing here is in English,” muttered Sawada, as he studied the endless array of controls and levers and buttons that covered the wall, watching the work of the helmsmen.

      “Correct. On all ships of the Japanese Navy the descriptions and signs are in English,” Aritomo told him. “Most of our first ships were built by British shipbuilders, many of the consultants were British, and many of the first instructors as well. We have learned a lot from the Royal Navy, and that has been reflected in the fact that all our new ships continue to adhere to the English language. Every officer has to learn English, though many only learn the basics.”

      Sawada looked inquiringly at the young man. “There are enough of us who still believe it is beneath our dignity to learn a foreign language.”

      Aritomo nodded. “Yes, and many officers have joined this group. But we wouldn’t have a fleet if we hadn’t been able to absorb foreign knowledge. And we would only have enemies abroad if we refused to accept languages other than our own.”

      Sawada smiled. “Contracts are often temporary.”

      “You surely know more about these things than me. I am only a second lieutenant. I am executing the orders of those who know and guide us.”

      “But I suppose, Lieutenant Hara, that you took your English lessons seriously.”

      Aritomo nodded. “I took every one of my lessons seriously, Mr. Sawada. I come from a poor artisan’s family, and the naval career was a unique opportunity for me to do something different. I was the best student in the class and received a scholarship for high school. I was third in my year at the academy. I could have gotten an assignment on one of the big cruisers. But I wanted the submarines.”

      Before the old man could say anything, СКАЧАТЬ