No one heeded his plea. Then, farther down the coast, he saw sailors preparing to launch Nagasaki’s three warships. They raised masts, mounted oars and cannon, unfurled sails and banners bearing the Tokugawa crest. Sano reached the largest warship just as gunners and archers assumed positions on deck and the high command started up the gangplank.

Governor Nagai, wearing a magnificent suit of armor with red-lacquered breastpiece, chain-mail sleeves, a many-plated tunic laced with red silk cord, and a helmet crowned with golden antlers, led a group of aides. Interpreter Iishino, looking scared and uncomfortable in his armor, dawdled behind. When Sano arrived at the gangplank, Nagai was on deck, arguing with the ship’s captain.

“Under no conditions shall we fire on the Dutch ship yet,” Nagai said.

“But Honorable Governor,” said the captain, “the barbarians have already attacked Japan. To accept such an insult would be an admission of cowardice. I can cripple the Dutch ship. The gunners on the cliffs can finish her off.” His face blazed with zealous patriotism. “This is our chance to demonstrate Japan’s military strength!”

The aides loudly seconded him, but Governor Nagai shook his circular gold war fan. “Our defense preparations are incomplete. At present, we can’t guarantee a quick victory over the Dutch or minimal damage to Nagasaki. And think of the consequences of a battle.”

“Even if we make sure the barbarians don’t leave Japan alive, there are thousands of other foreign witnesses to today’s events. We can’t silence them all without inviting retribution from their governments, which would eventually realize that an entire international fleet of ships had failed to return home. The traders will carry tales to ports frequented by the East India Company. The Dutch will send more ships. Our nation cannot survive a full assault by the company fleet without massive destruction. Even if we escape total defeat, the battles will kill legions and disrupt foreign trade, costing us a fortune. I’ll not bring full-scale war on Japan just to satisfy a fool’s desire for glory!”

With an air of finality, Nagai turned to his chief aide. “Does everyone have orders to stand by unless they receive the signal from me?”

“Yes, Honorable Governor.”

“Then let’s be on our way. I must negotiate a truce with the Dutch before matters escalate to the point where war is unavoidable.”

Nagai started toward the bow; his retinue followed. The captain shouted the order to set sail. Sano dashed up the gangplank, calling, “Governor Nagai! Wait!”

Troops seized Sano, locking him in a vise of chain-mailed arms. Nagai turned; a frown darkened his face. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, striding toward Sano. To the troops he said, “Throw him overboard, and let’s go.”

“Wait,” Sano called as the soldiers started to hoist him over the railing. “Governor Nagai, you must let me go with you and speak to the Dutch.”