Shibusawa ran toward his house with a fleet foot and a light heart. He had fully made up his mind to go if possible on board one of the strange ships and sail away with the fleet. Whither he did not know; nor did he consider when or how he should be able to return. These were trifles with which he did not concern himself, for the one person above all others to whom his life was fully consecrated had pledged her faith in his undertaking, and he proposed boldly and resolutely to go forward into the dark unknown.

His adventure might carry him into limitless space, possibly land him upon the shores of another world; or it might cross over the irresistible or emerge beyond the impenetrable. The home of this strange people might be the centre of a molten universe or the frozen arc of an indescribable radius; whatever it was, he had builded his hopes upon that faith which invites us beyond the grave and makes life worth the living.

With nothing more than a pilgrim outfit and what seemed to him a goodly supply of ready money Shibusawa and Okyo stole their way to the side of the most convenient man-of-war. The day was just breaking and the harbour already swarming with sampans, filled and manned with the curiously inclined. After a while with much bickering and bartering they succeeded in getting aboard, where they were safely stowed away among the stokers and lay anxiously awaiting the ship’s departure.

In the meantime Commodore Perry had despatched an early message to the shogun, requesting an immediate audience with his duly accredited representative; and as this request seemed to be backed by proper credentials, and had been heralded by a strange, bold display of force, the now thoroughly terrorised autocrat of the flowery kingdom yielded a point and forthwith directed the anxious but nowhere to be found Ikamon to visit his grace, the Commodore, on board his ship. Ikamon had disappeared! Maido was substituted, and to the surprise of the hastily summoned council and the chagrin of Tetsutaisho this conference did not last more than an hour, while their rights seemed arbitrarily decreed. The ambitious commander had reduced his request to somewhat the form of an ultimatum, which he politely delivered, promising immediately to withdraw his ships, and in one year return for an answer.

The purpose of the visit and the conditions of the withdrawal alike remained unknown to Shibusawa, who now lay wholly occupied with the strange, mysterious things around him. He had not as yet been missed on shore, for the excitement was great, and his absence attracted no particular attention. His father, like all the shogun’s court, was busily engaged with what seemed to him a threatening danger. Takara gave herself very little concern about him, and Nehachibana was already too well employed with watching her recently affianced Tetsutaisho.

Therefore, when the white squadron filed out, all those on shore breathed a token of relief, and were happy for the departure, except perchance one at the hidden cave, whose gladness sprang only from her faith. She stood there pondering and watching until the last ship had passed from sight, and then she turned with a sigh to the place which had brought her such joy only because of the pain. Kinsan returned that morning to her home a happier woman. She had met life’s first severe trial and had stood the test and won the battle, for she now knew the power of faith.

Before leaving home Shibusawa had penned a short message to his father, and one to his wife. He informed Takara that he should be absent for a long time, and advised her to seek such happiness as she herself might find. To his father he explained more fully his departure, his intentions, and his hopes. Again he urged Maido to accept the situation, feel assured of his safety, and fully confide in his purposes.

As the ship rolled out upon the great ocean Shibusawa gained a parting glimpse of his native land, and there came over him, only for an instant, a feeling of awe mingled with something of regret. Then he dismissed the past and thenceforth looked only to the future.