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and the one in Spanish Africa, the number of churches sacked, and how we burned the towns and the shipping.  And the Portuguese rutter?  That's our death warrant, for of course it's stolen.  At least it was bought from a Portuguese traitor, and by their law any foreigner caught in possession of any rutter of theirs, let alone one that unlocks the Magellan, is to be put to death at once.  And if the rutter is found aboard an enemy ship, the ship is to be burned and all aboard executed without mercy.
    " Nan no yoda? " one of the samurai said.
    "Do you speak Portuguese?" Blackthorne asked in that language.
    The man shrugged. " Wakarimasen. "
    Another came forward and deferentially spoke to the leader, who nodded in agreement.
    "Portugeezu friend," this samurai said in heavily accented Portuguese.  He opened the top of his kimono and showed the small wooden crucifix that hung from his neck.
    "Christ'an!"  He pointed at himself and smiled.  "Christ'an."  He pointed at Blackthorne.  "Christ'an ka? "
    Blackthorne hesitated, nodded.  "Christian."
    "Portugeezu?"
    "English."
    The man chattered with the leader, then both shrugged and looked back at him.  "Portugeezu?"
    Blackthorne shook his head, not liking to disagree with them on anything.  "My friends?  Where?"
    The samurai pointed to the east end of the village.  "Friends."
    "This is my ship.  I want to go below."  Blackthorne said it in several ways and with signs and they understood.
    " Ah, so desu! Kinjiru, " they said emphatically, indicating the notice, and beamed.
    It was quite clear that he was not allowed to go below.  Kinjiru must mean forbidden, Blackthorne thought irritably.  Well, to hell with that!  He snapped the handle of the door down and opened it a fraction.
    " KINJIRU! "
    He was jerked around to face the samurai.  Their swords were half out of the scabbards.  Motionlessly the two men waited for him to make up his mind.  Others on deck watched impassively.
    Blackthorne knew he had no option but to back down, so he shrugged and walked away and checked the hawsers and the ship as best he could.  The tattered sails were down and tied in place.  But the lashings were different from any he'd ever seen, so he presumed that the Japaners had made the vessel secure.  He started down the gangway, and stopped.  He felt the cold sweat as he saw them all staring at him malevolently and he thought, Christ Jesus, how could I be so stupid.  He bowed politely and at once the hostility vanished and they all bowed and were smiling again.  But he could still feel the sweat trickling down his spine and he hated everything about the Japans and wished himself and his crew back aboard, armed, and out to sea.

    "By the Lord Jesus, I think you're wrong, Pilot," Vinck said.  His toothless grin was wide and obscene.  "If you can put up with the swill they call food, it's the best place I've been.  Ever.  I've had two women in three days and they're like rabbits.  They'll do anything if you show'em how."
    "That's right.  But you can't do nothing without meat or brandy.  Nor for long.  I'm tired out, and I could only do it once," Maetsukker said, his narrow face twitching.  "The yellow bastards won't understand that we need meat and beer and bread.  And brandy or wine."
    "That's the worst!  Lord Jesus, my kingdom for some grog!"  Baccus van Nekk was filled with gloom.  He walked over and stood close to Blackthorne and peered up at him.  He was very nearsighted and had lost his last pair of spectacles in the storm.  But even with them he would always stand as close as possible.  He was chief merchant, treasurer, and representative of the Dutch East India Company that had put up the money for the voyage.  "We're ashore and safe and I haven't had a drink yet.  Not a beautiful drop!  Terrible.  Did you get any, Pilot?"
    "No."  Blackthorne disliked having anyone near him, but Baccus was a friend and almost blind so he did not move away.  "Just hot