Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan (23 page)

BOOK: Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan
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Adams suggested to Saris that, instead of returning directly to Ieyasu, they make an excursion to the nearby port of Uraga. This was situated at the entrance to the bay of Edo, and Adams thought it would be a much better site than Hirado for the English factory. It was close to the shogun’s court, where wealthy nobles were regular visitors, and was also far from the factories of the Portuguese, Spanish, and Dutch.
from Arnoldus Montanus’s Atlas Japannensis, 1670
.
 
The Japanese emperor lived in splendid isolation in his magnificent Kyoto palace. Although he was accorded every possible dignity, he lacked the power and authority of the shogun and was little more than a puppet.
 
Saris was indeed impressed by Uraga. “[It] is a very good harbour for shipping,” he wrote, “where ships may ride as safely as in the river of Thames before London.” He also agreed that “it will be much better for our shipps to sail thither than to Hirado.” One of the vessels at anchor in the bay was Spanish, and Adams had been commissioned to sell the vessel and cargo to the highest bidder. He offered it to Saris for £100—“which to our judgements was verye deare”—and refused to be drawn into bargaining. Saris rejected the offer, but did take the opportunity to acquire some of the cargo, including four writing desks and eight folding screens.
The men now returned to Shizuoka in order to collect Ieyasu’s reply to King James’s letter. This was written in Japanese, but Adams had it translated into the flowery language of international diplomacy. Ieyasu informed King James that he was “not a little glad to heare of your great wisdome and power” and urged “the continuance of friendshipp with your highnes,” asking that more ships be sent to Japan. There was tacit praise for Adams and Saris, applauding “their worthines in the admirable knowledge of navigation” and expressing admiration that they had not been deterred by “the distance of so mightie a gulfe, nor greatnes of such infinite cloudes and stormes, from prosecuting honnorable enterprises of discoveries.” Ieyasu also handed Captain Saris a copy of his trading privileges, in which he gave the East India Company “free licence” to “abide, buy, sell and barter” in Japan. He offered all Englishmen his full support and protection. Saris was delighted that his mission to the court had been such a triumph. He thanked Ieyasu, bid his farewell, and, on October 9, 1613, prepared to head back to Hirado.
Shortly before the party rode out of Shizuoka, Adams had a second, private meeting with Ieyasu in which he repeated his appeal that he be allowed to sail for England. “I mad[e] myself
soumwhat bold,” he wrote, “find[ing] the emperor in a good mood.” Adams had tucked inside his kimono the document, signed by Ieyasu, that had granted him the estate at Hemi. Now, following Japanese custom, “I took [it] out of my bosom … and laid it down before him, giveing His Majesty most humbell thanks for his great favour unto me.” Ieyasu was silent for a moment while he collected his thoughts. “He looked ernestly upon me,” wrote Adams, “and asked me if I was dessirous to go for my country.” Adams explained that he was homesick and that after fifteen years away, he was desperate to renew contact with his family and friends. Ieyasu graciously agreed to his request. He was convinced that English ships would revisit his land and “answered [that] if he should dettain me he should do me wrong, insomuch that in his service I had behaved myself well.”
Adams could scarcely believe what he was hearing. For years he had begged Ieyasu to allow him to leave Japan. Now, unexpectedly, he was told that he was free to return to England in the
Clove
. “So,” wrote Adams, “I thank God [that I] got my liberty out of my large and evill service.” He returned to Hirado in buoyant mood, “being not a littell joyfull.”
The party arrived in Hirado at the beginning of November and was welcomed with a tremendous blitz of cannonfire. Saris had received no news from the
Clove
during his time at court and feared that the crew would have used his absence as a pretext for disobedience. The men had indeed begun to misbehave just a few days after his departure, using the Japanese Bon festival as an opportunity “to flitch and steale, to go to tavernes and whorehouses.” Christopher Evans had led the way, swimming ashore and testing the local brothels. When caught and upbraided, he “stood boldly in it, that he was a man, and would have a woman if he could get her.” Events took a more serious turn when Francis Williams got so drunk that he lost his senses and “did strike one of the old king’s men with a cudgell.” He was fortunate to escape being cut to pieces by King Foyne’s executioners.
Richard Cocks’s leniency had only served to encourage the men; just two days after Williams’s scuffle, Simon Colphax and John Lambart slipped ashore, drank themselves senseless, then fought each other with such ferocity that Lambart was seriously wounded. Evans, meanwhile, had got into a brawl with John Boules over a pretty little whore. Cocks repeatedly sent his more trusted lieutenants ashore to drag his men out of the brothels and soon earned the wrath of the pimp who controlled the whorehouse, “[who] gave it out that if I come any more into his house to seeke for our people, he would kill me and such as came with me.” All pretense of discipline on the
Clove
had broken down at the beginning of October, when Cocks awoke to the news that seven men had absconded, led by the truculent Christopher Evans. King Foyne promised to help Cocks find them and said he would “fetch them alive or dead.” He had added, with characteristic generosity, that he “would be loath to kill them, in respect we might want men to carry our ship back for England.” In the event, Evans and company proved more accomplished runaways than mariners. They were never seen again—despite repeated searches—and were believed to have escaped to Macao aboard a Portuguese vessel.
The unpredictable weather had only added to Cocks’s woes. A typhoon struck Hirado with a force “that I never saw the like in all my life.” More than a hundred houses were instantly flattened, and the tumultuous seas ripped apart the town’s principal wharf, sinking fifty boats. Only the
Clove
’s five anchors prevented her from being swept onto land. The newly rented English warehouse was less fortunate. A monstrous wall of water struck the town “[and] broke downe our kitchen wall at the English house, which was newly made, and flowed into our oven and broke it downe.” The wind was so strong that it “blew downe the tiles … and the house did shake like as if there had been an earthquake.” In the panic that followed, scores of terrified locals ran through the town carrying firebrands to light their way. Sparks flew into houses, the
wind fanned the flames, and entire houses were “carried away.” Cocks had watched in horror as “the wind whirled up the fire which was in them, and carried it into the aire in great flakes, very fearefull to behold.” Only the torrential downpour had saved the wooden town from total destruction.
Saris was disappointed to learn of the crew’s behavior and was less than pleased to learn that Cocks had sold almost nothing during his absence. Cocks explained that Hirado’s merchants would not do business with them until Ieyasu had given his official permission and added that there was another, more important hindrance to trade. The English had hoped that Japan would be a good market for broadcloth, but the locals had good reason for refusing to buy it. “‘For,’ said they, ‘you commend your cloth unto us, but you yourselves wear least thereof.’” This was true: not a single man on the
Clove
was wearing broadcloth. Saris and his lieutenants were decked in silks and satins, while the common sea dogs dressed themselves in fustian. Saris realized that the Japanese were justified in their refusal and criticized his men (but not himself). “I wish that our nation would be more forward to use and spend this natural commoditie,” he wrote, “ … so shall wee better encourage and allure others.”
Saris’s long voyage to court had done little to alter his opinion that Adams was haughty and disdainful. He still failed to appreciate Adams’s concerns about the arrival of so many Englishmen, even though the behavior of the
Clove
’s mariners had caused considerable alarm in the local community, and he was offended by Adams’s detached manner. Weary of listening to Adams’s advice and determined to reassert his authority, Saris launched a blistering attack on Adams’s Hirado trading partner, Yasuemon, who had remained in the port during the voyage to court. Saris asserted that Yasuemon had cheated the English when accompanying them to market and berated Adams for “his man’s dishonnest and villainous dealing, being put in trust and to cheate us so unreasonable.” Adams was aghast and took this as a personal affront.
He said it was “very evill that his servant should be so thought of.” Saris did not care a jot and was prepared to take the matter further, when Richard Cocks intervened and defused the situation.
But Saris had already said too much. Adams took exception to the captain’s attitude and began to harbor serious doubts as to whether he could face several years in his company on the voyage home. He was also alarmed to discover that he had very little money with which to return to England. His wealth was tied up in land and property, which would all be lost if he left Japan. The time to make a decision came soon enough. Saris was keen to set sail as soon as possible and asked Adams if he intended to join him on the
Clove
. Adams declined his offer: “I awnssered him I had spent in this country many yeeres, through which I was poor … [and] was dessirouss to get something before my retourn.” He also made it clear that he was disgusted by the accusations that Saris had implicitly leveled at him. “The reason I would not go with him was for divers injuries done against me,” he wrote, “the which were thinges to me very strange and unlooked for.” Saris did not waste his breath with apologies. He accepted Adams’s refusal and offered him employment as one of the East India Company’s factors in Japan.
Adams was happy with this compromise, so long as it was on his own terms. He knew that the company required his services far more than he needed them and held out for the highest possible wage. Saris initially offered him a salary of £80 a year and said that the London merchants had already given Mrs. Adams
£
20 for food and clothing. “I do most humbly thank the Wourshipfull Company for this deed of Christian charity,” wrote a grateful Adams, but he scoffed at such a low figure. He demanded
£
144 and argued that the Dutch paid him as much as
£
180 a year for his services. After much wrangling, the two men settled upon
£
100. It was a more generous salary than the
£
40 offered to the other factors remaining in Japan—but precious little for someone with such influence at court. It would also take many years for the
money to reach Adams from England. The Dutch tried to woo him with a more lucrative offer and “did what they could to have gotten him from us,” wrote Cocks, but Adams’s loyalty to his countrymen led him to accept Saris’s terms. On November 24, 1613, he signed a two-year contract and became a full-time employee of the East India Company.
One dilemma still needed to be resolved before Saris set sail: the site of the English factory. Adams’s preferred choice was Uraga. Close to the courtly capital and the city where all the richest lords and merchants resided, this was by far the most sensible place for the trading post. But Saris was no longer prepared to listen to advice from Adams. He favored Hirado: swayed not by its trading prospects but by the machinations of its canny feudal lord. King Foyne was hoping to reap vast profits from foreign trade and did everything in his power to ingratiate himself with the English captain. “The old king sent me word he would come and visit me,” wrote Saris, “and bring me the dancing beares [prostitutes].” King Foyne was true to his word. “Soon after, he did [bring them], being three whores of the countrey.” Saris was enchanted by Hirado’s hospitable lord. At the end of November, he summoned a council of his men and told them that he had decided to base the English factory in the port.
Nine days after this meeting, he named the seven men who were to remain in Japan and serve alongside Adams. On the same day, all the crew were brought on board in readiness for the
Clove
’s departure. There was no time for farewells; no time for second thoughts on the part of the factors. With the wind blowing a stiff northerly, Saris weighed anchor and set sail. On the quayside of Hirado, a little band of Englishmen watched the ship disappear over the horizon.
AT HOME WITH RICHARD COCKS
T
HE MEN LEFT behind in Hirado watched the
Clove
’s departure with heavy hearts. Although they were excited at starting an adventurous new life in Japan, they also feared that it would be many years until the next English vessel reached these distant shores. Loneliness was the scourge of factors in the East, and petty jealousies and rivalries quickly soured relationships. It would require great strength of character if they were to avoid clashing with each other.
Captain Saris had prepared a long list of instructions—his “remembrance”—which set out in considerable detail the day-to-day running of the factory. It also assigned specific duties to each of the men and suggested a hierarchical chain of command. The obvious choice as leader was William Adams. He had by now lived in Japan for more than thirteen years and had all the necessary contacts at court. He was also on good terms with many of the country’s richest merchants and knew which commodities fetched
the highest prices in Japan. But Captain Saris could not bring himself to appoint Adams to such a lofty position. Disdainful of Adams’s humble origins and jealous of his knowledge of Japanese, he chose instead to give the position to the merchant Richard Cocks.
Cocks was a cheerful, happy-go-lucky fellow whose easygoing charm enabled him to make friends wherever he went. Known to his men as “honest Mr. Cocks,” his passion in life was growing his own fruit and vegetables, and he was already looking forward to nurturing new and exotic plants. He described himself as “unlettered,” but spent many an hour poring over his favorite book, a “Turkish History,” and devoted his evenings to compiling a colorful, rambling diary. He was happiest when planting seedlings, examining his carrier pigeons, and tending to his collection of prize goldfish.
Like Captain Saris, he was a younger son with little prospect of inheriting the family fortune. This had forced him to set his gaze on horizons that lay far beyond his native Staffordshire. He had traveled to London at an early age to become an apprentice to a wealthy cloth worker, then moved on to Bayonne in southwest France. In 1605, he was recruited as a spy by his patron, Sir Thomas Wilson, and instructed to monitor the movements of English Roman Catholic exiles passing through Bayonne on their way to Spain.
Cocks was described as “one of the better sort,” but he had a weakness of character that more forward-sighted merchants might have considered a major drawback for the position of chief factor. He had an endearing belief in the goodness of mankind and, although he claimed to have a sharp eye for “trix” and sleights of hand, his honesty had almost ruined him during his time in Bayonne. He had been conned by a Portuguese trickster and lost so much money that he was unable to pay his English creditors. He returned home in disgrace and found his name so blackened that
he was shunned by friends and womenfolk. In a letter, he bemoaned the fact that his problems “hath been an occasion to hinder me from one or two good mariages.” Sick at heart and aware that—at forty-five-his best years were almost behind him, he decided to leave England for a new life in Japan.
Cocks realized that the six men under his charge would require careful handling if he was to benefit from their skills. Richard Wickham, a Wiltshire man, was the most experienced, having led a life of rare adventure. His first voyage to the East, in 1608, had ended in disaster when he was captured and imprisoned by the Portuguese. He was then taken to Goa, where he spoke to his captors with an arrogance that astonished his fellow prisoners. He was eventually transported to Lisbon in a ship carrying an ambassador from the Persian court. Wickham befriended this ambassador, who reciprocated with “great affection” and secured him lodgings in his house. Wickham soon made his escape, boarded a ship bound for England, and arrived just in time to sign up for the voyage to Japan.
Such pluck and derring-do ought to have delighted Richard Cocks, but Wickham had a major defect in his character that would quickly sour their relationship. Greedy and unscrupulous, his sole motivation in traveling to Japan was to line his own pockets. Captain Saris described him as “capricious” and had been appalled by his behavior following the death of one of the
Clove
’s crew: Wickham had produced a dubious copy of the dead man’s will in which he was named sole benefactor.
Saris had been further angered by Wickham’s demand for a wage increase shortly before the
Clove
’s departure and refused to countenance it. But Wickham proved so persistent that he eventually caved in. “To be free of the exseeding and intollorable trouble I have dayly with him, I have offered to double his former entertainment.” Even this generous salary increase did not satisfy Wickham and he vowed to make his own wages by engaging in
private trade. His behavior was scandalous, yet he held a trump card. He was a friend of Sir Thomas Smythe, and knowledge of this friendship caused Saris to hesitate in disciplining him.
While Wickham succeeded in making himself enemies, William Eaton, the next in the pecking order, was busily making friends. He was a diligent and warmhearted individual whom Cocks described as a “true honest man, and a friend to his friend.” Eaton was initially given the task of managing the day-to-day affairs of the English factory, but proved himself to be so hardworking that he was quickly promoted to “factor,” or merchant. His previous position was filled by William Nealson, whose quarrelsome manner made him totally unsuited to life in a land far from home. Nealson was perpetually homesick and soon sought solace in the bottle, drinking copious quantities of sake and home-distilled poteen. This proved to have disastrous consequences, for alcohol had an adverse effect on his temperament and “fustian fumes.” Captain Saris had viewed him as one of the
Clove
’s troublemakers and held him in low esteem. “[He is] to keepe the buttery,” he told Cocks, “post your bookes, and [in] what other necessaries you see fitting may be employed.” Even these menial duties proved too much for Nealson. He frequently absconded from work and made his way to the hot springs on nearby Iki Island, where alcohol was plentiful and the whores were attractive.
The other three members of the English community were to be directly involved in trade. The most experienced was the splendidly named Tempest Peacock, an adventurous individual who was “well experiensed in marchandising.” He had a quick, mathematical mind and soon realized that he and his colleagues would need higher salaries if they were to make ends meet in this ruinously expensive country. “To live in this place is very chargeable,” he wrote to the merchants in London, “and to receive no more … will make us returne home with empty purses.” To his disgust, his pleas fell on deaf ears.
Peacock’s deputy was Walter Carwarden, who had probably
trained as a gold or silversmith, while the young Edmund Sayers—who was possibly a kinsman of Saris—was still learning his trade.
Captain Saris had not been impressed by the men that the East India Company had selected to stay in Japan and was particularly critical of Nealson and Wickham. But he reserved his greatest contempt for William Adams, the eighth and most important member of the English factory. His jealousy of Adams had festered during his time in Japan and, by the time he came to prepare his “remembrance,” it had turned into a passionate hatred. He denied Adams any role in the running of the factory and informed Cocks that he was “only fitting to be master of the junk, and to be used as a linguist at court when you have no employment for him at sea.” He claimed that Adams was lazy and selfish—a grotesque travesty of the truth—and said that “it is necessary that you stirr him … otherwise you shall have little service of him.” He further warned Cocks to be on his guard against duplicitous behavior, suggesting that Adams was likely to spend much of his time fraternizing with the Dutch, since he was “more affected to them than his own nation.”
Saris’s criticisms were so vehement that it is surprising that he offered Adams employment at all, but he was enough of a realist to know that Adams’s expertise was essential if the English factory was to be a success. For this reason, Cocks was warned to treat him with respect, “[or] he shall leave you and betake him[self] to the Spaniards or Dutch.” If that happened, the English would find themselves in deep trouble.
As soon as the
Clove
had left Hirado, Adams introduced Cocks to the local merchants. He also helped him to prepare the factory’s warehouse and create living quarters for the men. A contemporary picture of the building shows a small, pitch-roofed dwelling with a huge flag of St. George fluttering in the sea breeze. The reality must have been somewhat different, for Cocks spent a great deal of time and money enlarging the factory. He had originally
rented the place for six months for the princely sum of
£
19. Aware that at least a year would pass before the arrival of the next ship, he decided to buy the place outright and turn it into the “good and strong howse” that the East India Company merchants had requested. As he prodded the walls and poked at the ceiling, he quickly realized that the place was in a pitiful state of disrepair and was obliged to spend more than ten times the purchase price on making it habitable. Timbers and boards were purchased to extend the building, while plasterers were employed to make the living quarters less drafty in winter. Cocks also tried to minimize the risk of fire, which had presented a constant hazard to the English in Bantam. He tiled the roof of the main building and constructed a three-foot-thick perimeter wall around the entire site.
Cocks harbored dreams of presiding over a huge, highly profitable factory in Japan. He also hoped to produce large quantities of homegrown fruit and vegetables, which would preclude spending money on expensive victuals. The accounts are filled with notices of his acquiring neighboring properties in order to flatten buildings and plant vegetable plots or erect outhouses. In January 1614, he spent
£
12 on “the purchase of five old houses, and their backsides … whereby we daily stood in fear of fire.” The site was cleared and transformed into an orchard, while other land was turned into a vegetable patch. In February, Cocks bought the house of their closest neighbor outright, “which is to be converted into a yard to prevent fire.” He continued to acquire nearby properties until a sizable area of land around the factory was in his possession. The shacks and houses were then put to more appropriate use. Several were converted into godowns, or storehouses, another was turned into a showroom to display the merchandise, and another became a warehouse for ships’ victuals. Cocks next improved the living quarters, where the seven men would sleep, eat, and while away long hours of boredom. The floors were covered in Japanese tatami mats, and a few items of furniture were procured locally to create a less spartan atmosphere. Cocks had
hoped his men would sleep on the floor, like the Japanese, but they balked at such an uncomfortable arrangement and refused to adopt local customs. After many sleepless nights on rush mats, Cocks sent out an order for bedsteads. Henceforth the men would get some rest.
Within a few months of Captain Saris’s departure, they had settled into a routine that proved to be far more lax and enjoyable than it had ever been on the
Clove
. During the voyage to Japan, Saris had assembled his rebellious crew on deck every morning and evening, “so as all may jointly, with reverence and humility, pray unto Almightie God.” They were given readings from Scripture and reminded that the harshest punishments would be meted out for “blasphemeinge of God, swearing, thefte, drunkennes, or other disorders.” The men had also suffered from the atrocious diet that was a hallmark of all long sea voyages. Their staples were “biscuit” and “oatmeale”—both of which were crawling with weevils—while the salt beef and dumplings smelled so bad that the men had to hold their noses as they ate. Nor were they ever given enough to fill their gnawing bellies. Saris believed that he was being more than generous with the ship’s food supplies and kept a daily record of the crew’s meals, but many “aspersions were cast upon the captain for scantinge of his people” and he was alone among commanders in returning to England with “good store of victualls.”
from Arnoldus Montanus’s Atlas Japannensis, 1670
.
Hirado was a small, picturesque port with a mountainous backdrop. Richard Cocks spent time and money enlarging the English lodgings, but the Dutch factory (above) was larger and more imposing.
BOOK: Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan
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