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CHAPTER V.
TWO BABY BOYS.
IT was a bright sunshiny morning in November,
A.D. 1852, when the great white sail of a
Japanese junk swelled before the freshening wind
in the Bay of Tsuruga. The city of the same name
has one of the few harbors, and indeed the best one,
on the west coast of Japan, and to it the ship was
bound. A long voyage, as a Japanese born in the
first half of the nineteenth century counted it, had
been made. The run of ten days from the port of
Oshima in Higo, though the weather was only
occasionally squally, had severely tried the nerves of
the gentleman who now stood on deck watching the
splendid scenery.
"My lord must be glad to see home land, once
more," said the captain, bowing low.
"
I congratu-
late you that Tsuruga is at last in sight."
"Yes," said the man of two swords, who had
already donned his silk coat and trowsers, whitest
socks and sandals, and carried in his girdle the pair
of jewel-hilted weapons that marked his rank, as if
all danger from salt water were past, and speaking
loud enough for the sailors at the huge tiller, behind
which was a little shrine, to hear him : " thanks to
jour skill and the favor of the god Kompira, we are
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