Western Pacific, East of Luzon.
July 1836.
The Rivoli had been at sea for several days after departing Manila, and the rhythm of the voyage had settled into sothing steady and controlled. Life aboard the ship followed a pattern that did not change. Morning inspections were followed by reports, then adjustnts to course and speed, then the quiet routine of maintaining a vessel built for precision rather than comfort. Nothing was left unattended, and nothing moved without purpose.
Guizot had grown accustod to it.
He spent most of his ti between the command deck and the upper observation level, where he could see the sea ahead without obstruction. The air was warr now compared to the Atlantic. The wind carried more moisture, and the sunlight reflected off the water in sharper, brighter tones. It was a different world, and the further they moved east, the more that difference beca clear.
That morning began like any other.
Until the lookout called out.
"Contact on the port side. Multiple vessels."
The words carried across the deck without urgency, but they changed the atmosphere imdiately. Officers turned their attention toward the direction indicated, and the captain stepped forward, already reaching for the telescope.
Guizot did not move quickly, but he stepped closer.
"What do we have?" he asked.
The captain raised the telescope and focused on the distant shapes.
For a mont, he said nothing.
Then he lowered it slightly.
"Small vessels," he said. "Wooden hulls. Sail driven."
Guizot extended his hand.
The telescope was passed to him.
He brought it up and adjusted the lens carefully. At first, the shapes were unclear, but as he refined the focus, the details began to form.
The vessels were narrow and low in the water. Their construction was simple compared to anything European. The sails were modest, their structure designed for coastal movent rather than long distance travel. There were several of them, moving together in loose formation, likely fishern or small scale traders.
Japanese.
Guizot lowered the telescope.
"They’ve seen us," he said.
The captain nodded.
"They would have spotted us long before we reached this distance."
There was no doubt about that. The Rivoli was not a ship that could pass unnoticed. Its size, its structure, and the way it moved through the water set it apart from anything in the region.
"What’s your order?" the captain asked.
Guizot looked at the horizon again, then back at the approaching vessels.
"Intercept them," he said.
The command was given without hesitation.
Orders moved across the deck imdiately. The Rivoli adjusted its course slightly, not sharply, but enough to close the distance in a controlled approach. One of the escort ships increased speed and moved ahead, taking position between the Rivoli and the smaller vessels.
At first, the Japanese ships did not react strongly.
They adjusted their sails, but there was no imdiate attempt to flee. It was possible they did not yet understand what they were facing. The size alone would have been unfamiliar. The structure, the movent, the presence of multiple ships moving in coordination. It would not match anything they had seen before.
That hesitation did not last.
A warning shot was fired across the water.
The reaction was imdiate.
The smaller vessels broke formation, their crews moving quickly to adjust sails and change direction. But it was already too late. They could not outrun a steam powered warship, and they could not outmaneuver sothing built for speed and control.
The escort vessel reached them first, cutting off their path.
Boarding teams were already being prepared.
Guizot remained where he was, watching the operation unfold.
The French sailors moved with precision. Boats were lowered, and within minutes they had surrounded the smaller ships. The boarding itself was quick and controlled. There was no real resistance. The Japanese crews were overwheld by the sudden presence of ard n moving with discipline and purpose.
Within a short ti, it was over.
The vessels were secured.
The crews were taken.
The captured sailors were brought aboard the Rivoli shortly after.
They were gathered on the main deck under guard, not restrained harshly, but watched carefully. There were about a dozen of them, dressed simply, their expressions tense but controlled. They spoke among themselves in quick, low voices, clearly trying to understand what had just happened.
Guizot stepped forward.
"Interpreter," he said.
An officer hesitated.
"We don’t have one for Japanese, sir."
Guizot looked at him.
"None at all?"
"No, sir. We have Chinese interpreters, but not Japanese."
Guizot turned his attention back to the captured n.
One of the officers tried English.
"Do you understand?" he asked.
There was no response.
He tried French.
Again, nothing.
The language barrier was complete.
Guizot observed them for a mont. Their expressions showed confusion more than fear. They did not understand the ship, the uniforms, or the language being spoken around them. Everything about this encounter was outside their experience.
"What do you intend to do with them?" his aide asked quietly.
Guizot did not answer imdiately.
He looked out toward the sea, where the small Japanese vessels still remained under French control.
"They’ve seen us," he said.
His aide nodded.
"Yes."
"They’ve seen the ship, the size, the structure. They don’t understand it, but they’ve seen enough to know it’s different."
The aide waited.
Guizot turned slightly.
"Their vessels will return," he said. "They will report what they saw."
"You want them to spread it."
"Yes."
The logic was simple.
Fear alone was not the goal.
Awareness was.
Guizot looked back at the captain.
"Release their ships," he said.
The captain nodded.
"And the n?"
"We keep them," Guizot replied. "For now."
The captain did not question it.
"They will be held until we reach Edo Bay," Guizot continued. "Once we establish contact, they may serve a purpose."
The captain gave a short nod.
"It will be done."
The Japanese vessels were released soon after.
Their crews had already been removed, but the ships themselves were allowed to sail. Once freed, they moved quickly, their sails catching the wind as they turned away from the Rivoli. There was no hesitation this ti. Whatever uncertainty they had felt before had been replaced with urgency.
They were leaving.
And they would carry the mory of what they had seen.
On deck, the captured sailors remained under watch.
They had grown quieter now.
Their eyes moved across the ship, taking in its structure, its size, the unfamiliar machinery, the disciplined movent of the crew. They did not speak as much as before. They simply observed.
Trying to understand.
Guizot stood at the forward rail again.
The sea ahead remained unchanged.
But sothing had shifted.
"They’ll reach the coast before us," his aide said.
"Yes."
"And they’ll report everything they saw."
Guizot gave a small nod.
"They won’t have the words for it," he said. "But they won’t need them."
His aide looked at him.
"They’ll describe the size. The tal. The guns. The way it moved."
Guizot’s gaze remained forward.
"And that will be enough."
He rested his hands lightly against the rail.
"By the ti we arrive, they’ll already be expecting sothing."
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