She frowns. 'Dutch is foreign language. Words do not have same . . . power, smell, blood. Midwife is my . . .' she frowns '. . . "vacation" or "vocation" - which?'

' "Vocation", I hazard, Miss Aibagawa.'

'Midwife is my vo vocation. Midwife who fear blood is not helpful.'

'Distal phalanx,' comes Marinus's voice, 'middle and proximal phalanxes . . .'

'Twenty years ago,' Jacob decides to tell her, 'when my sister was born, the midwife couldn't stop my mother bleeding. My job was to heat water in the kitchen.' He is afraid he is boring her, but Miss Aibagawa watches him with calm attention. 'If only I can heat enough water, I thought, my mother will live my mother will live. I was wrong, I'm sorry to say.' Now Jacob frowns, uncertain why he raised this personal matter.

A large wasp settles on the broad foot of the bed.

Miss Aibagawa produces a square of paper from her kimono's sleeve. Jacob, aware of Oriental beliefs in the ascent of the soul from bedbug to saint, waits for her to guide the wasp out through the high window. Instead, she crushes it in the paper, scrunches it into a little ball and, with perfect aim, tosses it through the window. 'Your sister, too, have red hair and green eyes?'

'Her hair is redder than mine, to our uncle's embarrassment.'

This is another new word for her. ' "Am-bass-a-ment"?'

Remember to ask Ogawa for the Japanese word later, he thinks. ' "Embarrassment", or shame.'

'Why uncle feel shame because sister has red hair?'

'According to common people's belief - or superstition - you understand?'

'Meishin in Japanese. Doctor call it, "Enemy of Reason".' in Japanese. Doctor call it, "Enemy of Reason".'

'According to superstition, then, Jezebels - that is, women of loose virtue - that is, prostitutes - are thought to have, and are depicted as having, red hair.'

' "Loose virtue"? "Prostitutes"? Like "courtesan" and "whore's helper"?'

'Forgive me for that.' Jacob's ears roar. 'Now the embarrassment is mine.'

Her smile is both nettle and dock leaf. 'Mr de Zoet's sister is honourable girl?'

'Geertje is a . . . very dear sister; she is kind, patient and clever.'

'Metacarpals,' the doctor is demonstrating, 'and here, the cunning carpals . . .'

'Miss Aibagawa,' Jacob dares to ask, 'belongs to a large family?'

'Family was large, is small now. Father, father's new wife, father's new wife's son.' She hesitates. 'Mother, brothers and sisters died, of cholera. Much years ago. Much die that time. Not just my family. Much, much suffer.'

'Yet your vocation - midwifery, I mean - is . . . an art of life.'

A wisp of black hair is escaped from her headscarf: Jacob wants it.

'At old days,' says Miss Aibagawa, 'long ago, before great bridges built over wide rivers, travellers often drowned. People said, "Die because river god angry." People not not said, "Die because big bridges not yet invented." People said, "Die because big bridges not yet invented." People not not say, "People die because we have ignoration too much." But one day, clever ancestors observe spiders' webs, weave bridges of vines. Or see trees, fallen over fast rivers, and make stones islands in wide rivers, and lay from islands to islands. They build such bridges. People no longer drown in same dangerous river, or many less people. So far, my poor Dutch is understand?' say, "People die because we have ignoration too much." But one day, clever ancestors observe spiders' webs, weave bridges of vines. Or see trees, fallen over fast rivers, and make stones islands in wide rivers, and lay from islands to islands. They build such bridges. People no longer drown in same dangerous river, or many less people. So far, my poor Dutch is understand?'

'Perfectly,' Jacob assures her. 'Every word.'

'Nowdays, in Japan, when mother, or baby, or mother and and baby die in childbirth, people say, "Ah . . . they die because gods decide so." Or, "They die because bad karma." Or, "They die because baby die in childbirth, people say, "Ah . . . they die because gods decide so." Or, "They die because bad karma." Or, "They die because o-mamori o-mamori - magic from temple - too cheap." Mr de Zoet understand, it is same as bridge. True reason of many, many death of ignoration. I wish to build bridge - magic from temple - too cheap." Mr de Zoet understand, it is same as bridge. True reason of many, many death of ignoration. I wish to build bridge from from ignoration,' her tapering hands form the bridge, 'to knowledge. This,' she lifts, with reverence, Dr Smellie's text, 'is piece of bridge. One day, I teach this knowledge . . . make school . . . students who teach other students . . . and in future, in Japan, many less mothers die of ignoration.' She surveys her daydream for just a moment before lowering her eyes. 'A foolish plan.' ignoration,' her tapering hands form the bridge, 'to knowledge. This,' she lifts, with reverence, Dr Smellie's text, 'is piece of bridge. One day, I teach this knowledge . . . make school . . . students who teach other students . . . and in future, in Japan, many less mothers die of ignoration.' She surveys her daydream for just a moment before lowering her eyes. 'A foolish plan.'

'No, no, no. I cannot imagine a nobler aspiration.'

'Sorry . . .' she frowns '. . . what is "noble respiration"?'

'Aspiration, miss: a plan, I mean to say. A goal in life.'

'Ah . . .' a white butterfly lands on her hand '. . . a goal in life.'

She puffs it away; it flies up to a bronze candle on a shelf.

The butterfly closes and opens and closes and opens its wings.

'Name is monshiro monshiro,' she says, 'in Japanese.'

'In Zeeland, we call the same butterfly Cabbage-white. My uncle--'

' "Life is short; the art, long." ' Dr Marinus enters the Sick Room like a limping, grey-haired comet. ' "Opportunity is fleeting; experience--" and, Miss Aibagawa? To conclude our first Hippocratic Aphorism?'

' "Experience is fallacious," ' she stands and bows, ' "judgement difficult." '

'All too true.' He beckons in his other students, whom Jacob half recognises from Warehouse Doorn. 'Domburger, behold my seminarians: Mr Muramoto of Edo . . .' the eldest and dourest, bows '. . . Mr Kajiwaki, sent by the Choshu Court of Hagi . . .' A smiling youth not yet grown into his ropy body bows. 'Next is Mr Yano of Osaka . . .' Yano peers at Jacob's green eyes '. . . and, lastly, Mr Ikematsu, native son of Satsuma.' Ikematsu, pocked by childhood scrofula, gives a cheerful bow. 'Seminarians: Domburger is our brave volunteer today; please greet him.'

A chorus of 'Good day, Domburger' fills the whitewashed Sick Room.

Jacob cannot believe his allotted minutes have passed so soon.

Marinus produces a metal cylinder about eight inches in length.

It has a plunger at one end and a nozzle at the other. 'This is, Mr Muramoto?'

The elderly-looking youth replies, 'It is call glister, Doctor.'

'A glister.' Marinus grips Jacob's shoulder. 'Mr Kajiwaki: to apply our glister?'

'Insert to rectum, and in-jure . . . no, in- . . . no, in-pact . . . no, . . . no, aaa nan'dattaka aaa nan'dattaka? In- . . .'

'-ject,' prompts Ikematsu, in a comic stage-whisper.

'- inject medicine for constipation, or pain of gut, or many other ailment.' medicine for constipation, or pain of gut, or many other ailment.'

'So we do, so we do; and, Mr Yano, where lies the advantage in anally anally ministered medicines over their ministered medicines over their orally orally ministered counterparts?' ministered counterparts?'

After the male students have distinguished 'anal' from 'oral', Yano responds, 'Body more quick absorb medicine.'

'Good.' Marinus's slight smile is menacing. 'Now. Who knows the smoke smoke glister?' glister?'

The male seminarians confer without including Miss Aibagawa. At length, Muramoto says, 'We do not know, Doctor.'

'Nor could you, gentlemen: the smoke glister has never been seen in Japan until this hour. Eelattu, if you please!' Marinus's assistant enters, carrying a leather tube as long as a forearm and a deep-bellied, lit pipe. The tube he hands to his master, who flourishes it like a wayside performer. 'Our smoke smoke glister, gentlemen, possesses a valve in its midriff, glister, gentlemen, possesses a valve in its midriff, here here, into which the leather tube is inserted, here here, via which the cylinder can be filled with smoke. Please, Eelattu . . .' The Ceylonese inhales smoke from the pipe and exhales it into the leather tube. ' "Intussusception" is the ailment for which this instrument is the cure. Let us speak its name together, seminarians, for who can cure what he cannot pronounce? "In-tus-sus-cep-tion!" ' He waves one finger like a conductor's baton. 'A-one, a-two, a-three . . .'

' "In-tus-sus-cep-tion," ' the students falter. ' "Intus-sus-cep-tion." '

'A terminal condition where an upper portion of the intestine passes into a lower, thus thusly . . .' The doctor holds up a piece of sailcloth, stitched like a trouser leg. 'This is the colon.' He narrows one end in his fist, and feeds it backwards inside the cloth tube towards the other end. 'Ouch and and itai itai. Diagnosis is difficult: its symptoms being the classic alimentary triad, namely, Mr Ikematsu?'

'Abdomen pain, groin swelling . . .' He massages his temples to loosen the third. 'Ah! Blood in faeces.'

'Good: death by intussusception or,' he looks at Jacob, 'in the vernacular, "shitting out your own intestines" is, as you would expect, a laborious affair. Its Latin name is "miserere mei ", translatable as "Lord Have Mercy." The ", translatable as "Lord Have Mercy." The smoke smoke glister, however, can reverse this wrong,' he pulls the knotted end of the sailcloth tube out again, 'by puffing in such a density of smoke that the "slippage" is reversed; and the intestine restored to its natural state. Domburger: glister, however, can reverse this wrong,' he pulls the knotted end of the sailcloth tube out again, 'by puffing in such a density of smoke that the "slippage" is reversed; and the intestine restored to its natural state. Domburger: in guerno in guerno for favours granted, shall loan his for favours granted, shall loan his gluteus maximus gluteus maximus to medical science that I may demonstrate the passage of smoke "through caverns measureless to man" from anus to oesophagus, whence smoke trickles through his nostrils like incense from a stone dragon, though not, alas, so sweet-scented, given its malodorous voyage . . .' to medical science that I may demonstrate the passage of smoke "through caverns measureless to man" from anus to oesophagus, whence smoke trickles through his nostrils like incense from a stone dragon, though not, alas, so sweet-scented, given its malodorous voyage . . .'

Jacob begins to understand. 'Surely, you don't intend--'

'Remove your breeches. We are all men - plus one lady - of medicine.'

'Doctor.' The Sick Room is disagreeably cool. 'I never consented to this this.'

'To treat nerves,' Marinus flips Jacob over with an agility belying the doctor's partial lameness, 'ignore them. Eelattu: let the seminarians inspect the apparatus. Then we begin.'

'A fine joke,' wheezes Jacob, under fourteen stone of Dutch physician, 'but--'

Marinus unhooks the now-squirming clerk's braces.

'No, Doctor! No! Your little joke has gone far enough . . .' . . .'

VII.

Tall House on Dejima

Early on Tuesday the 27th August, 1799 The bed shakes its sleeper awake; two of its legs snap, tipping Jacob on to the floor, whacking his jaw and knee. Merciful Christ Merciful Christ is his first thought. is his first thought. The The Shenandoah' Shenandoah's magazine is exploded. But the spasm seizing Tall House grows stronger and faster. Joists groan; plaster patters like grapeshot; a window casement flies from its mount and the lurching room is lit apricot; the mosquito net enwraps Jacob's face and the unappeasable violence is magnified threefold, fivefold, tenfold, and the bed drags itself across the room like a wounded beast. A frigate is unloosing a broadside A frigate is unloosing a broadside, Jacob thinks, or a man-o'-war or a man-o'-war. A candlestick hops in dithyrambic circles; sheaves of paper from high shelves swoop in loops. Don't let me die here Don't let me die here, Jacob prays, seeing his skull smashed under beams and yolky brains dashed in Dejima's dust. Prayer grips the pastor's son: raw-throated prayer, to the Jehovah of the early Psalms, O God, thou hast cast us off, thou hast scattered us, thou hast been displeased; O turn Thyself to us again! O God, thou hast cast us off, thou hast scattered us, thou hast been displeased; O turn Thyself to us again! Jacob is answered by roof-tiles smashing on Long Street and cows lowing and goats bleating. Jacob is answered by roof-tiles smashing on Long Street and cows lowing and goats bleating. Thou hast made the earth to tremble; thou hast broken it; heal the breaches thereof; for it shaketh Thou hast made the earth to tremble; thou hast broken it; heal the breaches thereof; for it shaketh. Glass panes shatter into false diamonds, timber cracks like bones, Jacob's sea-chest is tossed by undulating planks, the water jug spills and the chamber pot is upended and Creation herself is being undone and God God God God God God, he implores, bid it cease bid it cease bid it cease! bid it cease bid it cease bid it cease!

The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is is our refuge. Selah our refuge. Selah. Jacob shuts his eyes. Silence is peace. He thanks Providence for subduing the earthquake and thinks, Dear Christ, the warehouses! My mercury calomel! Dear Christ, the warehouses! My mercury calomel! He snatches his clothes, steps over the flattened door and meets Hanzaburo emerging from his nest. Jacob barks, 'Guard my room!' but the boy does not understand. The Dutchman stands in the doorway and makes the shape of an X with his arms and legs. 'Nobody enter! Understand?' He snatches his clothes, steps over the flattened door and meets Hanzaburo emerging from his nest. Jacob barks, 'Guard my room!' but the boy does not understand. The Dutchman stands in the doorway and makes the shape of an X with his arms and legs. 'Nobody enter! Understand?'

Hanzaburo nods nervously, as if he must placate a madman.

Jacob clatters down the stairs, unbolts the door and finds Long Street looking as if an army of British looters just passed through. Shutters lie in pieces, tiles lie in shards, the entire garden wall has collapsed. Dust thickens the air, corroding the sun. On the city's high eastern flank, black smoke billows, and somewhere a woman is wailing out her lungs. The clerk makes his way to the Chief's Residence, but collides with Wybo Gerritszoon at the Crossroads. The hand sways and slurs, 'Bastard French bastards've landed an' the bastards're everywhere!'

'Mr Gerritszoon: see to the Doorn and the Eik. I'll check the other warehouses.'

'You,' the tattooed strongman spits, 'parleyin' wi' me, me, Monsewer Jacques? Monsewer Jacques?'

Jacob steps around him and tests the Doorn's door: it is secure.

Gerritszoon grabs the clerk's throat and roars, 'Get yer filthy French hands filthy French hands off my house an' take yer off my house an' take yer filthy French fingers filthy French fingers off my off my sister sister!' He relinquishes his grip in order to hurl a hay-maker: had its aim been true it could have killed Jacob, but instead its force flings Gerritszoon on to the ground. 'French bastards winged me! Winged Winged me!' me!'

In Flag Square, the muster bell begins to ring.

'Ignore that bell!' Vorstenbosch, flanked by Cupido and Philander, paces up Long Street. 'The jackals would line us up like children even as they reef us!' He notices Gerritszoon. 'Is he injured?' that bell!' Vorstenbosch, flanked by Cupido and Philander, paces up Long Street. 'The jackals would line us up like children even as they reef us!' He notices Gerritszoon. 'Is he injured?'

Jacob rubs his aching throat. 'By grog, I fear, sir.'

'Leave him be. We must guard ourselves against our protectors.'

The damage caused by the earthquake is bad but not disastrous. Of the four Dutch-owned warehouses, the Lelie is still under reconstruction following 'Snitker's Fire' and its frame held firm; the doors stayed up on the Doorn; and van Cleef and Jacob were able to guard the damaged Eik against looters until Con Twomey and the Shenandoah Shenandoah's carpenter, a wraith-like Quebecois, had rehung the thrown-down doors. Captain Lacy reported that whilst they didn't feel the earthquake on board the ship, the noise was as loud as war between God and the Devil. Some tens of crates, moreover, toppled on to the floor in various warehouses: all must be inspected for breakages and spillages. Dozens of roof-tiles must be replaced, new earthenware urns must be procured; the flattened bath-house must be repaired at the Company's expense and the toppled dovecote mended; and the plaster shaken loose from the north wall of Garden House will have to be applied again from scratch. Interpreter Kobayashi reported that the boathouses where the Company sampans are stored collapsed, and quoted what he called 'a superlative price' for repairs. Vorstenbosch shot back, 'Superlative for whom?' and swore not to part with a penning penning until he and Twomey had inspected the damage themselves. The interpreter left in a state of stony anger. From the Watchtower, Jacob could see that not every ward in Nagasaki escaped as lightly as Dejima: he counted twenty substantial buildings collapsed, and four serious fires pouring smoke into the late August sky. until he and Twomey had inspected the damage themselves. The interpreter left in a state of stony anger. From the Watchtower, Jacob could see that not every ward in Nagasaki escaped as lightly as Dejima: he counted twenty substantial buildings collapsed, and four serious fires pouring smoke into the late August sky.

In Warehouse Eik Jacob and Weh sort through crates of toppled Venetian mirrors: every last glass is to be unwrapped from its straw and recorded as undamaged, cracked or smashed. Hanzaburo curls up on a pile of sacking, and soon he is asleep. For most of the morning, the only sounds are mirrors being lain aside, Weh chewing betel nut, the scratch of Jacob's nib and, over at the Sea-Gate, porters bringing ashore tin and lead. The carpenters who would ordinarily be at work on Warehouse Lelie, across the Weighing Yard, are engaged, Jacob guesses, on more pressing jobs in Nagasaki.

'Well, it ain't seven years o' bad luck here, Mr de Z., but seven 'undred, eh?'

Jacob hadn't noticed Arie Grote enter.

'Quite pard'nable 'twould be, eh, were a cove to lose count an' enter a few whole mirrors as "smashed", wholly in error . . .'

'Is this a thinly veiled invitation,' Jacob yawns, 'to commit fraud?'

'May wild dogs chew my head off first! Now, I've arranged a meetin' for us. You You,' Grote glances at Weh, 'can make yerself scarce: a gent's comin' what'd take offence at your shit-brown hide.'

'Weh is going nowhere,' counters Jacob. 'And who is this "gent"?'

Grote hears something and peers out. 'Oh, bloody oath, they're early early.' He points to a wall of crates and orders Weh, 'Hide behind there! Mr de Z., dispense with yer sentiments sentiments regardin' our sable brethren 'cause piles an' piles an' regardin' our sable brethren 'cause piles an' piles an' piles piles o' o' money money is at stake.' is at stake.'

The slave youth looks at Jacob; Jacob, reluctantly, nods; Weh obeys.

'I am here, eh, to play the go-between twixt you you, and . . .'

Interpreter Yonekizu and Constable Kosugi appear at the door.

Ignoring Jacob altogether, both men usher in a familiar stranger.

Four young, lithe and dangerous-looking personal guards appear first.

Next enters their master: an older man who walks as if treading on water.

He wears a sky-blue cape and his head is shaven, though a sword-hilt shows from his waist sash.

His is the only face in the warehouse not sheathed in sweat.

From what flickering dream, wonders Jacob, do I know do I know your your face? face?

'Lord Abbot Enomoto of the Domain of Kyoga,' announces Grote. 'My associate, Mr de Zoet.'

Jacob bows: the Abbot's lips curl, tighten into a half-smile of recognition.

He turns to Yonekizu and speaks: his burnished voice is uninterruptible.