Next to the standing stone a glorious white stallion was tethered, and in its shadow, barely reaching the height of the saddle, was a slim dark-haired girl. She appeared as ephemeral as a spirit. Her skin was as white as snow, while her hair, black and mysterious as jet, cascaded down past her waist. She wore a blood-red dress that shimmered in the haze of the early morning light.

Jack was transfixed. Even at this distance, he could feel her gaze. He raised his hand hesitantly in greeting. The girl remained motionless. Jack waved again. This time the girl bowed ever so slightly.

‘Oh, glorious day!’ exclaimed a voice from behind. ‘One so much sweeter for the passing of the storm.’

Jack turned round to see his father admiring the ruby-red disc of the sun as it rose over the ocean.

‘Father, look!’ cried Jack, pointing to the girl on the peninsula. His father glanced up and searched the headland.

‘I told you, son! This land is gilded with gold,’ he said jubilantly, pulling Jack to him. ‘They even build their temples with the very stuff…’

‘No, not the building, father, the girl and…’ But the girl and the horse had disappeared. Only the standing stone remained. It was as if she had been carried away on a breeze.

‘What girl? You’ve been too long at sea!’ teased his father, a knowing smile on his lips, which quickly faded as if stolen by a forgotten memory. ‘Far too long…’

He trailed off, gazing mournfully at the headland.

‘I should never have brought you, Jack. It was foolhardy of me.’

‘But I wanted to come,’ insisted Jack. ‘Like you said, to be the first Englishman to set foot in Japan.’

‘Your mother – God rest her soul – would never have allowed it. She would have wanted you to stay home with Jess.’

‘Yes, but my mother didn’t even allow me to cross the docks without holding her hand!’

‘And for good reason, Jack!’ he replied, the smile returning to his lips. ‘You were always one to seek out adventure. You’d have probably jumped aboard some ship bound for Africa and we wouldn’t have seen you again!’

Jack suddenly found himself enveloped within one of his father’s massive bear hugs.

‘Now here you are in the Japans. And, by my life, son, you proved your mettle last night. You’ll be a fine pilot one day.’

Jack felt his father’s pride in him seep into his very bones. He buried his head into his father’s chest, wanting never to be let go.

‘Jack, if you did spy someone upon the headland, then we had best remain on our guard,’ continued his father, taking the spyglass from Jack. ‘Wako ply these waters and one can never be too vigilant.’

‘What are wako?’ asked Jack, pulling his head away.

‘They’re pirates, son. But no ordinary pirates. They’re Japanese pirates, disciplined and ruthless,’ explained his father, scanning the horizon. ‘They’re feared in all places and have no qualms about killing Spanish, Dutch, Portuguese and English men alike. They’re the very devil of these seas.’