CAPTAIN INABA
Sago watched the two sailors step into the naphtha launch with their
new-found friends and go swiftly out to a little black yacht anchored
just inside the long breakwater. He waited until it was evident that
the sailors had gone up the gangway ladder and were aboard, and there
was a puzzled look on the face of the Japanese. He stood for several
seconds, his eyes on the yacht, and then finally walked quickly away.
The steam launch from the “Alaska” came alongside just as he turned,
and its coxswain hailed him. “Going off to the ship, Sago?” But Sago
did not hear, or if he heard he made no answer, nor did he slacken his
pace. At the end of the dock he stepped into a rikisha and at full
speed the little vehicle rushed toward the Yokohama railroad station.
An hour later Captain Inaba was in his office at the navy department.
His bronze face wore a worried look. From his secret service men, who
had been detailed to trace down the missing documents, very baffling
news had come. Two of his men had had the letter in their grasp only
to lose it. The quarters in the Imperial Hotel had been thoroughly
searched, but it had not been found, yet he was confident that it was
in American hands. An official-appearing letter addressed to the editor
of the “Shimbunshi” was found in Midshipman Perry’s valise at the
hotel. Inaba still held this letter on his desk awaiting Takishima’s
arrival to help translate its contents, for nothing must interfere
with tracing down the important paper. His reputation, even his life,
depended upon keeping the contents of the lost letter secret from the
Americans.
“Some one to see me, and from the American war-ship!” the little naval
man exclaimed, as an attendant delivered a message, holding the door
open. “Let him enter at once.” Inaba arose from his chair excitedly,
and took several steps in the messenger’s direction.
Sago came hesitatingly into the room. The American steward had not
forgotten his early training, and when he beheld the important
official, he stopped and made several low obeisances, drawing in his
breath each time between closed teeth.
Sago was now essentially a Japanese. His fifteen years in the United
States navy had quite passed from his mind. The oath he had taken to
uphold the honor of his adopted country was forgotten. Those few silent
minutes’ struggle on the dock while he had watched the launch, knowing
that the sacred seal of the Emperor had been violated and the letter
polluted by alien hands, had proved to him that his allegiance yet
belonged to his Emperor and Japan.
Inaba gazed in surprise at this fellow countryman in an American
steward’s uniform. He knew of course that there were many of his people
so employed, but there was something singularly familiar about this
man’s face. Sago kept his eyes lowered, and his head hung down in sign
of humility before this powerful adviser to the Minister of Marine.
“What is it? Speak, man!” Inaba commanded.
Sago looked guardedly around the office, assuring himself there were no
other ears but his and his questioner.
“Your augustness,” Sago began meekly, bowing again and sucking in
his breath, “I have at last found great joy in being able to help my
country. Years ago I wronged her, and have paid dearly for it by my
self-inflicted exile.”
Inaba approached close to the humble and penitent man and gazed long
into his averted face.
“I am waiting,” he said quietly. “Your face comes back to me out of the
dim past, but I know you not.”
“Do you remember Raku? He who allowed the war plans to be stolen, and
who fled rather than face the disgrace, and who was too cowardly to
take his own worthless life in atonement?” Sago raised his eyes and for
a second dared to look into Inaba’s face.
“And you have been all these years in exile?” Inaba asked kindly, his
voice low, thrilled with wonder. “Did you not hear that the plans were
not stolen? The thieves carried away nothing valuable. The plans had
been removed the night before by the Minister of Marine himself, and
placed in a safer vault. Those very plans were used successfully in our
late war.”
Sago’s care-worn, wizened face broke into lines of joy, and into his
eyes tears rushed unbidden.
“My guilt was no less, augustness. I slept when I should have been
watching,” he said penitently. “And for this I gave up my country and
the companionship of my blood and have lived among aliens. They have
always been kind, and I love them next to my own people. Augustness,
then you were a mere stripling in the office of the minister; now you
have become the giant oak upon whom the nation leans for support. Your
brain is the oracle on naval tactics and strategy; where before you
followed, now you lead.”
Inaba smiled, and in his eyes there was a look of joy.
“Raku, I am but the clay in the hands of the sculptor. All my
achievements have been possible only through the virtue of His Majesty,
our Emperor.”
Both men bowed almost to the ground as the magic words were spoken.
Sago drew nearer and spoke quickly and earnestly while Inaba listened,
his anxious face becoming more tranquil as the minutes went by. There
was no interruption.
After Sago had finished, Inaba sat for several minutes in profound
thought. This indeed was startling and baffling news. The letter in
the hands of American sailors and on board Mr. Impey’s yacht. Impey he
had seen scarcely two hours ago. He had seen him go into the American
Embassy and had followed him in, as he himself had business with the
ambassador. For some time he had mistrusted this smooth foreigner
and his intimate relations with the American ambassador. If by ill
fortune the ambassador’s daughter had not interrupted him after he had
dismissed the servant, he might have surprised the conversation on the
other side of the closed door to the ambassador’s office.
When he had entered he felt a delicate situation had arisen, but his
own confusion in being surprised had made it impossible for him to
analyze the causes. Had Impey then given the ambassador the contents of
this important letter? His spies had told him that Impey had held the
letter; but why should he divulge it to the American ambassador? Sago
stood silently watching the sphinx-like face which betrayed nothing of
the methodical reasoning within Inaba’s mind. Then the naval man nodded
and smiled, patting the steward on the back as one would reward a child
for a favor done.
The cable was his first thought. In answer to a bell several underlings
quietly appeared. Inaba wrote hastily, sealed the letter, and a
messenger quickly departed. No cable messages would leave the country
until censored by Inaba. That order he had given by a stroke of the
pen. The knowledge of the contents of the last letter would remain in
Japan until the time had passed when it could do harm. The next letter
was quickly despatched. It would prevent the British yacht “Sylvia”
from leaving Yokohama harbor until he, Inaba, authorized its release.
“Raku, our Emperor does not forget the faithful,” Inaba said after he
had finished his writing. “Remain true to your conscience and the honor
of your ancestors.” Sago withdrew, a grateful look in his eyes.
Then Inaba drew out from a drawer in his desk the letter found the
night before in the American midshipmen’s room. His knowledge of
English writing was not great, but as Takishima had not put in an
appearance, he read on slowly, laboriously, seeking words frequently
in a dictionary at his side. The situation had become more perplexing.
Here was an article calculated to arouse the Japanese people against
the American naval visitors, written in English and intended for a
newspaper supposedly owned by a foreign syndicate. Takishima had
brought him the word the night before that the midshipman had denied
that the lost letter had been found by their sailors, and Takishima was
quite confident that his classmate was honorable. Yet here was a letter
found in his room which showed conclusively that he was not honorable.
And then came Sago’s information that the American sailors held the
lost letter and had even asked him to translate it. Inaba felt that
a great crisis had been reached. It was apparent to him that America
was endeavoring to force a crisis on Japan through this visit of
the “Alaska.” When this decision was reached the long projected and
assiduously studied plans should immediately be put in operation. Then
Japan would stand ready on guard, but would not strike the first blow
unless her honor demanded it.
Inaba sat at his desk deep in thought. His dreams of a great war with
a power worthy of his country’s steel made his blood quicken. From the
battle between two such fleets as America and Japan would pit against
each other, many naval lessons yet unlearned, even as yet unthought,
would be demonstrated. It would be a fight that would stand out in
raised letters on the pages of the world’s history, and he would be the
man to whom future naval historians would give credit for the wonderful
victory on the seas won by the Japanese fleet, for Captain Inaba was
certain of success. It would be due of course entirely to the great
virtue of his Emperor. All Japanese would understand that, but the
foreigners would lay it to the work of his methodical and far-seeing
brain. A messenger had silently entered and spoke a few words in a low
voice; scarcely hearing, Inaba had nodded, still deep in his revery.
Then across his mental vision flashed a face and Impey stood before
him--nervously smiling.
“I was the unconscious means of losing a valuable letter, Captain
Inaba.” Impey’s manner was hasty and he talked as one not sure
of his ground. The steely eyes of the Japanese gazed out on him
uncompromisingly. His parchment-colored face was expressionless.
“Fortunately I have been enabled to secure this letter, and it is now
safe on board the yacht ‘Sylvia.’”
Inaba’s face did not move a muscle.
“Yes. I had already learned so, Mr. Impey, and had given orders to
prevent her sailing.”
Impey’s face was a picture of confusion and embarrassment. This little
Japanese he had always feared, attributing to him powers more than
human. He knew that Inaba suspected him, and that the two men who had
assaulted him in his own rooms were Inaba’s men. He then must know
that the letter had been in his hands. The sailors had taken it from
one of these men before he could deliver it to Captain Inaba. Impey
knew nothing of Phil’s interruption.
“The letter came into my hands, its seal broken,” he said nervously.
“It was taken from me at my home, and not until this morning did I find
out who had caused it to be impossible to return the letter to you as
I intended.” Impey’s courage slowly returned as he hastily explained
while Inaba’s cold eyes looked on unmoved. “The sailors showed the
letter to two of my friends, and they contrived to get them on board my
yacht where they are now under lock and key, awaiting your pleasure.”
“Then so far the secret is safe,” Captain Inaba replied. His voice
showed relief. “The Americans could hardly have had it translated so
soon.”
“There is a Japanese on board the ‘Alaska’; he is Captain Rodgers’
steward,” Impey interjected. “He would be able to read the letter if
there had been time. One of my friends said the steward was on the
train with the sailors.”
Captain Inaba smiled. He knew that Raku could be trusted. Then if Impey
had not translated it the secret was as yet safe.
“You can translate our language, Mr. Impey?” Captain Inaba questioned
quietly. “If the secret then is out, you naturally fall under
suspicion. The letter was in regard to the ships our Emperor has
considered buying.”
Impey raised his hand to his throat, something seemed choking him,
before he answered.
“I did not read the letter,” he said in a frightened voice. “The
seal was broken when it came to me. Why should I wish to inform the
Americans of a secret which I have been as anxious as yourself to keep?
You must remember, Captain Inaba,” he went on with attempted dignity,
“that it is merely a business affair with me. As agent I have agreed to
sell you these ships at a price stipulated.”
Inaba’s eyes flashed.
“Are you quite sure, Mr. Impey,” he asked coldly, “that you have not
two strings to your bow?”
Impey paled as he heard the words and wished he had remained on board
his yacht, instead of trusting himself back in Tokyo. He had risked
much in this return; but this he was willing to do if he could be sure
of preventing the reception of the American captain by the Emperor.
This meeting Impey feared. He had heard of the letter written by the
President of the United States, and believed that if this letter was
read by the Mikado that Japan would decide not to buy the Chinese
ships, thereby making his work of a year profitless.
“As for the secret being in the hands of the Americans, I cannot
say,” Impey said quickly, appearing not to have considered Captain
Inaba’s accusation of duplicity. “The letter was in the keeping of the
Americans all night. It has been through many hands. I took it from
the midshipmen while they were dressing for the reception at the prime
minister’s.” This Impey decided to say, although it was untrue, hoping
that Captain Inaba’s suspicions might be diverted from himself to the
Americans. He in truth had obtained the letter from Wells and had but
finished its translation when the two Japanese detectives interrupted
him.
“The sailors,” he went on, “appear to have trailed it down and
eventually, as you know, succeeded in recovering it. The American
ambassador sent for me early this morning to talk with me in regard
to the concession for the Kiangsu-Hohan Railway in which my syndicate
is interested. I noticed that he was strangely excited and when you
entered his office I believe he was on the point of telling me the
cause of his agitation.”
While Impey was speaking a messenger quietly entered the office,
handing Captain Inaba an envelope which he eagerly opened.
“The ambassador has our secret,” the naval officer exclaimed. “Here
are his cipher cables to Washington and Manila. They must contain the
secret. The code is too difficult for us to translate, so I must act as
if the letter had been read by the Americans. All cables by my orders
are being held up by the cable operators until it is too late for them
to harm us. That we are determined to secure at once the ships of the
new China navy will not be known by the United States government until
the ships are in our hands.”
The turn affairs had taken was a great blow to Impey. His single aim,
for which he had even risked his life, for he feared a fanatic’s knife
if his duplicity was made public, was that the United States should be
forced to seize the Chinese ships. Everything had been designed to lead
up to this crowning event.
“Will you seize the ships at once?” Impey exclaimed, striving to inject
a gladness into his voice which he was far from feeling.
The presence of the “Alaska” came suddenly into Impey’s mind. She could
not be stopped, and once away could send the secret by wireless to
Guam, Honolulu, and thence to the United States. So after all his cause
was not entirely lost.
“I shall advise sailing at once to intercept the Chinese squadron,”
Captain Inaba answered promptly. “Have you the release from the
Wai-Wu-Pu ready--for we do not wish to appear to seize the ships?”
“It has not come from Peking,” Impey replied. “It was not thought that
such haste would be necessary. I expect it in a few days.”
“Then we shall proceed without it,” Captain Inaba exclaimed. “The
Chinese admiral will hardly risk a fight against our formidable fleet.”
Impey had quite regained his natural humor. He had been given a severe
fright, but he thought Captain Inaba’s suspicions toward himself had
been successfully allayed.
The yacht was ready to sail, and the permit from the Wai-Wu-Pu, the
throne council of China, for the United States to take the entire new
navy from the Chinese crews was in Impey’s possession at that moment.
The “Alaska” could sail from Yokohama, and send the important news of
Japan’s intentions of seizing the Chinese ships. The yacht with her
high speed could carry ahead the permit to the United States admiral in
Manila Bay.
“Japan is indeed fortunate, Captain Inaba, in the possession of an
officer who so successfully combines the qualities of a strategist,
diplomat and international detective. I take off my hat to you, sir.”
Impey pronounced his words with great precision. No sign of the
nervousness which earlier had been apparent was evident.
He was as yet safe from Captain Inaba’s suspicion. With that thought
bringing a smile to his lips he bowed himself out of the office.