‘All thanks to Miyuki and your pilgrim knowledge,’ agreed Jack.

They found a spot near the bow to stow the canvas bag and sat down. While the other passengers were finding their own places for the voyage, Jack took the opportunity to glance up and give the vessel a quick inspection. It was quite different in design from the mighty three-masted ocean trader he’d sailed upon to Japan. This wooden ship had a single mast with a square canvas sail, a flat keel and a wide, open deck. It was perhaps a third of the size of the Alexandria, with room for fifty passengers. Its cargo of rice bales and lamp oil was piled high on the deck and in the hold. The gunwales were raised with a diamond-shaped latticework of bamboo guardrails and the stern’s upper deck was given over to a large rudder and extra-long tiller. To Jack’s eye, it was more a coastal vessel than an ocean-going ship, but it looked seaworthy enough. He relaxed, knowing they would soon be under way.

‘It’s not over yet,’ warned Miyuki, looking back down the harbour.

A samurai patrol had just entered the brewery.

‘Why aren’t we setting sail?’ Saburo demanded, becoming nervous.

The boat was full but the captain seemed in no urgency to depart.

‘Perhaps there isn’t enough wind?’ suggested Miyuki.

Jack shook his head. ‘There’s more than enough.’

Yori turned to a kindly-looking man sitting nearby, who was contemplating the sea and mumbling to himself. ‘Excuse me,’ asked Yori, ‘what’s the delay?’

Blinking as if disturbed from a trance, the man offered a cordial smile, then in a soft voice replied:

‘Horseshoe harbour

Where the great tides turn

my life flows in and out.’

His cryptic answer made Jack wonder if the man was in his right mind.

The smile on the man’s lips faltered as he looked expectantly at Yori. ‘So … what do you think?’

Yori appeared pensive before replying. ‘Like the sea, your haiku is deep and moving.’

The man beamed upon hearing such gracious praise. ‘You’re a poet too!’ he exclaimed.

Yori bowed his head in humble acknowledgement.

‘I’d be honoured if you’d share a haiku of yours with me,’ requested the poet, excited at the prospect.

‘Of course,’ replied Yori, trying to keep his calm under the mounting pressure of the samurai. ‘But first we were wondering why the boat hasn’t sailed yet?’

The poet seemed surprised at such a question and replied matter-of-factly, ‘We must wait for the tides to turn.’

‘And when will that happen?’ pressed Saburo as Jack glanced again towards the warehouse. The samurai had yet to emerge, but they had surely discovered the bodies by now.