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Each night aboard the ship was like the one before, and when the passengers finished their meals they talked and played games, and sometimes the men wagered at cards. All of them were kind to Charlie, and all of them were like his parents. English, mostly, they had purchased passage back to Britain full of stories, their pockets packed with Chinese wealth. There was only one passenger who never ate with the others, an Oriental woman who kept to herself and spent almost every evening at the bow of the ship, sitting in her strange and colorful clothes, knitting or reading, always alone. Her name was Lady Kita. She had dark hair and dark eyes and she looked different from the women Charlie knew in China. Priscilla had explained to Charlie that Lady Kita was standoffish and cold, and that was why the rest of the passengers ignored her. Tonight, however, Charlie had heard his fill of politics, and so left the supper table before the tea was served. Knowing he could not get lost aboard the ship, Priscilla let him go with a warning to be careful, then turned back to the charming man named Hawthorne who Charlie knew she fancied.
Six weeks at sea had made Charlie an expert seaman. He knew the Cairngorm nearly as well as any of its crew, who had spent hours teaching him about the vessel. He had no trouble making it across the deck, not even this night, when the sea was choppy and the deck tossed him about. It was summer, late July, and the sun was just dipping below the ocean, blazing on the horizon. Waves crashed against the vessel’s hull. The busy crew-there were thirty of them-went about their usual work, smiling at Charlie but mostly ignoring him as he made his way to the bow.
Lady Kita had taken her usual spot, sitting in a deck chair facing the clipper’s wake. Her hands were empty, clasped in her lap. She wore a fine robe of patterned silk, cinched around her waist by a wide, elaborate belt. She wore her hair pi
“Come out,” said the woman suddenly, making Charlie jump. He stood very still, hiding himself in the shadow of a crate. “Come out,” the woman repeated. “It is rude to stare.”
Charlie’s face grew hot. “Sorry,” he stammered. He stepped out from his hiding spot. “I wasn’t staring. Honest.”
“What were you doing, then?” The lady finally turned to face him. Charlie didn’t know how to answer.
“We were having supper. My governess is waiting for me…”
Lady Kita pretended to look around. “I don’t see her.”
“She’s back in the galley,” Charlie managed.
“Where you should be,” said the lady, not unkindly. “Never mind. It is good to see you. You are Charlie Mason.”
“Yes,” said Charlie brightly. “How do you know that?”
“There is little to do onboard. I learned the names of everyone.”
She spoke in a courtly voice, with the hint of an accent. Charlie was used to the Chinese women and the way they spoke, fast and loud. Lady Kita’s voice was neither of those things. She reminded Charlie of the women back home.
And then, to Charlie’s great surprise, she invited him to sit. Since the lady occupied the only chair, Charlie took to the deck, captivated by her. She seemed to sense his boredom, something that they shared, perhaps.
“Do you like this ship?” she asked. “I have seen you with the crew, full of questions for them.”
Charlie nodded. “It’s my first time on a ship like this. I’ve traveled with my father before, but only on a steamer. This is better. It’s faster.”
“For now,” said the lady. “The world is changing.”
Her expression darkened. Charlie puzzled over her words.
“You’re Japanese,” he pronounced. “I can tell. My father went to Japan. He met the emperor.”
Lady Kita raised her brows. “Did he? That is wonderful.”
“It is,” said Charlie proudly. “My father told me about him. He went all over Japan meeting important people. He’s a diplomat.” He looked at her. “Do you know what that is?”
“Yes,” said the lady, smiling. “How much do you know about Japan, Charlie? I can tell you stories if you like. Do you like stories, Charlie?”
Charlie loved stories. Best of all, he loved stories of places he had never been before.
For the next week, Charlie went every night to Lady Kita’s side. Sometimes she had treats for him, strange confections from her homeland that she had lovingly packed for her long journey. She regaled him with tales of the emperor, explaining to him about the warlords she called daimyos and how they had battled with the emperor for control of Japan. Japan was changing, she explained to Charlie, and this she told him over and over again. The old ways-the things she cherished-were quickly fading. But Lady Kita kept them alive, at least onboard the Cairngorm, bringing them to life with her stories. Most of all, Charlie loved to hear her talk about the samurai, the warriors of Japan, and that strange group of mysterious men she called the nin-sha.
“They are shadows of the samurai,” she had explained to him. “We have words for them. We call them shinobi-no-mono. That means they are the unseen people. But you know Chinese better, Charlie, so we will say what the Chinese call them. Nin-sha.”
Now Charlie was truly fascinated. Lady Kita’s stories about the samurai were good, but her tales about the nin-sha were astonishing. She had filled his mind with tales of the nin-sha so that Charlie could barely sleep, so excited was he to hear more. This night, as they settled in to their deck chairs over a pot of steaming tea, Charlie insisted she tell him more.
“Where did the nin-sha come from?” he asked. That was still a mystery she had left unsolved. Charlie knew she had deliberately held back the best bits of her story. Just as she had explained everything about the daimyos and their samurai, he wanted now to know everything about the nin-sha.
Lady Kita held her teacup in both hands, savoring its warmth, her white face lit by a nearby lantern. “A long time ago, when my country first began, there was a man named Jimmu who wanted to be emperor. Jimmu was a powerful man. He had armies, but he had enemies, too, and he needed the favor of the gods to defeat them. Jimmu prayed mightily for help, and the gods answered him. They told him to fetch some clay from the holy mountain of Amakaga, but Jimmu could not do this alone. He needed help from men who could sneak their way past his enemies and reach the mountain.”
“Nin-sha?” asked Charlie excitedly.
“The first of the nin-sha,” the lady explained. “Their names were Shinetsuiko and Otokashi. They dressed themselves up as peasant women and sneaked past Jimmu’s enemies to reach Mount Amakaga. They fetched the clay from the holy mountain and returned it to Jimmu, who fired the clay into a bowl as an offering to the gods. The gods were pleased with Jimmu and gave him victory over his enemies. He became emperor.”
“What about the other two? What happened to them?”
“Shinetsuiko and Otokashi disappeared into the mountains. They taught others what they had learned. And Shinetsuiko established his clan.” The lady paused. “Do you know what a clan is, Charlie?”
“A family,” Charlie replied.
“Yes,” said Lady Kita brightly. “Shinetsuiko’s clan was the first nin-sha family. They settled in Iga, where Shinetsuiko was born, and they became the finest of the nin-sha clans. There were many clans once, but none were as fine as Shinetsuiko’s. They were a proud people. They made schools, like you go to school, Charlie.”