The barge cleared the harbor. Across the waves Sano saw the Dutch ship’s tall, curved hull and many sails. Fear solidified in his gut as he realized that he couldn’t depend on Iishino for anything except translation. The interpreter’s offensive personality and derogatory attitude toward the Dutch made him the least suitable bearer of bad news. Sano would have to rely on his own judgment.

“When we reach the ship, you’ll translate exactly what I say,” he ordered with more confidence than he felt.

The Dutch ship loomed upon them like a majestic, mobile castle, dwarfing the barge. The uppermost deck crowned two interior levels. Three main masts and a long, canted bowsprit supported a complex web of rigging. Flaring quadrangular sails bellied with the wind. Atop the masts fluttered colorful flags: the yellow Dutch state flag, emblazoned with a rampant red beast holding a curved broadsword and a fistful of arrows; the United East India Company’s standard, striped horizontally in red, white, and blue, bearing a circle and a semicircle with an arrow-shaped mark superimposed. An upward-curving extension protruded from the bow, framed in ornate railings and culminating in the figure of a snarling lion. In this stood three barbarians. Others hurried about the deck or climbed the rigging. Shouts carried across the water: The Dutch had sighted the barge. Anticipation nearly overcame Sano’s fear.

“Tell them to stop,” he instructed Iishino.

The interpreter yelled something Sano hoped was his command in Dutch. Then the sails let out and began to flap. Sano told his oarsmen to position the barge beside the ship’s head. He stared at the men who stood there. All had hair that fell past their shoulder—not gold, as Sano had expected, but still shockingly fair. The center man had red locks that glowed like fire in the sunlight. The open neckline of his white upper garment revealed matching hair on his chest, like an animal’s pelt. The others had brown hair and wore long black cloaks and wide-brimmed black hats.

When these barbarians raised hands in greeting, Sano bowed. “Iishino. Introduce me, and say that I welcome them to Japan,” he said, speaking loudly so the Dutch would know he was in charge. He gazed in awe at their faces, which were not actually white, but ruddy pink, as though the blood flowed beneath transparent, tanned skin. But all had the round, pale eyes Sano had expected, and the biggest noses he’d ever seen. “Tell them to drop anchor.”

Iishino loosed phrases of guttural gibberish. His linguistic skills obviously compensated for his personality, because the red-haired barbarian replied promptly in syllables that sounded much like Iishino’s. The others chimed in. Although they seemed to Sano like members of another species, he could tell by their shaking heads that they were puzzled.