The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun. Dirk van den Boom

wouldn’t be lack of effort from his side, he thought, if anything was found to be amiss during inspection.

      Certainly not from his side.

3

      There was no music and no large parade.

      Prince or not, not too many people were supposed to know what a great new submarine the Japanese navy now possessed. So they kept the occasion somewhat under wraps, as far as that was possible with the attendance of a member of the imperial court. A column of four cars had pulled up, and next to the crew of the boat, a company of honor stood rigidly, fully dressed and thus in stark contrast to the submarine’s men, as they wore uniforms, although clean, appropriate to the mission at hand.

      Inugami had inspected the boat in the late evening, and for once had been satisfied. Despite intense scrutiny, he had noticed nothing negative, which he had acknowledged with rare praise. Everyone had noted this with relief, because Aritomo could testify that they had really made an effort.

      Inugami had told them that the group of passengers would be extended by one more person. An engineer from Kawasaki would participate in the maiden voyage, officially to be available for explanations, unofficially, in order to gain additional expertise in case of problems.

      That was logical and understandable, even a welcome development, as the First Officer secretly thought, despite the increasingly cramped conditions on board.

      Problems could always occur. Aritomo remembered, like all his comrades, the fate of Boat No. 6, which wasn’t able to surface when it stranded in depth of only ten meters due to a technical failure in a dock. The old Holland boats had provided no device by which the crew could have left their prison in submerged condition. So the men had stayed in their posts until they suffocated, only a few yards from the shore. Only the next day had it been possible to lift the boat and recover the corpses of those heroes.

      The boat was now a memorial. It reminded of the dangers of this new technology.

      Aritomo’s gaze wandered over the hull of boat No. 8. The new design made it possible, as far as the depth allowed, for the men to leave the boat when it was beyond salvation and the surface wasn’t too far away. So hopefully they would never share the fate of the deceased.

      Nevertheless, the man from Kawasaki came along. He had been, it was said, involved in the construction of this boat from start to finish, and knew it even better than the good Sarukazaki, who had dealt with every nook very intensely. Aritomo didn’t want to admit it, but the fact that the engineer was on board was already reassuring. And the new boat was so much bigger than the old Holland units. They would certainly be able to manage for the short trip that was planned. Orders were shouted. The honorary company presented the rifles. The submariners stood upright on the spotless hull of their boat, only Aritomo and Inugami had positioned themselves in front of the gangway over which the Prince would step.

      When he left the car, suddenly there was an awe that seized all men like a paralysis. A scion of the divine Tenno was and remained something very special, and nobody could escape the charisma of the Japanese imperial house. The young man – the boy actually – looked perfect in his cadet uniform, which fitted like a glove. His illustrious father’s face was recognizable on his own features, if one dared to look at it long enough. His cheeks were a bit roundish, but his gaze was as majestic and penetrating as one would expect. His companions came as announced: an elderly gentleman who had to be the tutor, two wiry soldiers clad in a plain black uniform who were undoubtedly the bodyguards – armed with a pistol and a sword, a rifle on their back, as Aritomo registered, and then a man in civilian clothes, not much older than Inugami, carrying a large black briefcase. The engineer from Kawasaki.

      Aritomo’s eyes widened.

      A gaijin.

      The officer controlled himself. Naturally. He could have anticipated that. The boat was built based on plans of British manufacturers. There was a long tradition of cooperation between Britain and Japan, especially in the development of naval forces. And British engineers often ran around in the big yards, all under contract from the Japanese government, to help develop or transfer new technology. So it was logical, even predictable, that with this new piece of technology, the pinnacle of British boatbuilding, an engineer from distant Europe would see to it.

      Aritomo scolded himself for his first, disapproving reaction.

      Without the British – and other friendly European powers – the imperial fleet in its present form wouldn’t exist. That might seem like a blemish, but it was also a fact. The engineer from the British Empire was a help, not a threat. He had to keep that in mind. The man was here, because the Admiralty thought it necessary.

      Aritomo Hara wouldn’t question that decision.

      He took a deep breath. They were all complete. The big moment was imminent.

      The Prince positioned himself as was expected of him but seemed strangely inconspicuous, almost shy. Instead of saying something by himself, his teacher took the floor. Aritomo only half listened to the speech. The old man greeted the soldiers and thanked them. He pointed out that the Prince was aware of the conditions aboard the boat and that careless touch or other afflictions wouldn’t be construed as offensive or unruly behavior. He expressed his hope that the maiden voyage would be free of problems and praised the soldiers for their service. A little speech that should serve as general reassurance. Aritomo was astonished to find that, in spite of his superficial attention, it was effective. He felt a bit more relaxed and could recognize subtle signs of relief among his men. Everyone had been afraid of making a nasty mistake unintentionally, fatal in the immediate vicinity of such an exalted person. The visitor was obviously aware of this fear and had tried to do something about it.

      Aritomo frowned involuntarily.

      Why did a cadet, who lived and learned at a cadet school from morning to evening, actually need a private teacher?

      He looked at the young Prince, who stood beside his mentor, his face uninvolved, neither approving nor rejecting, but listening just as stoically as the tight-shouldered soldiers. For a moment, however, he looked up, moving his head slightly and glancing at the men’s line, stopping briefly at the eyes of Aritomo, highlighted by his position at the quayside and his officer’s uniform. Their eyes didn’t meet for a long time, but for the officer, that moment was rather unpleasant – and not because of a sudden reverence or some of the fear the teacher was trying to dispel.

      But because he had the impression that this look of the young prince had been so terribly … empty.

      Aritomo blinked. Inugami barked an order. The boat was to made ready. All men were expected at their stations before the guests arrived. No risks. Immediate haste commenced.

      Aritomo scared away the thought he had just had. He was foolish. Presumptuous. Nothing that had to occupy his brain. His duties lay elsewhere, and he gratefully accepted that insight, concentrating on making that journey of his beloved boat a great success.

      For Japan.

      For the Emperor.

      For himself.

      * * *

      They gave him the tour. It was tight, it was slightly stuffy, and despite all the words of the old teacher, everyone felt a bit uncomfortable in the immediate vicinity of the Prince. The boat was a little over fifty yards long: the front-end torpedo room, the engine department with the diesel and electric motors, the close quarters of the officers – all the other crewmen slept as best they could at their stations –, the control room under the bridge, that one located on the tower, the middle torpedo room from which the boat could launch torpedoes sideways, and the small fair where heated food and tea could be cooked. After all, the boat was so wide that in some places up to three men could stand side by side.

      The British engineer – Robert Lengsley was his name and he had behaved politely, friendly, even spoke some Japanese, indicating that he had been residing here for some time – stayed with Sarukazaki in the engine room.

      After everything had been shown, Aritomo exhaled