Tokyo Bay Page 20

  Tanaka bent quickly to take possession of the gun, then rapped out an order to Gotaro to release the girl. As soon as he had relaxed his grip, she sank down into the straw and buried her face in her hands. Eden watched Tanaka walk towards him holding the pistol in one hand and his sword in the other. As he came, he barked out another crisp order, calling Gotaro to his side, The guard, whose shoulder was bloodied from the clash in the waterfall, hurried to obey, staring fixedly at Eden as if relishing the expected order to make the final strike.

  ‘I am ready, O Kami-san,’ he rasped, moving closer. ‘Just give the command!’

  ‘Put up your sword!’

  Tanaka quietly sheathed his own blade and waited until the mystified samurai obeyed. For a second or two Tanaka looked Eden in the eye very intently, as though trying to read his innermost thoughts; then he slipped the pistol inside his jimbaori.

  ‘Now draw the sword of the barbarian, Gotaro!’

  After a moment of puzzled hesitation, the guard pulled Eden’s blade uncertainly from his sash.

  ‘You will return the weapon respectfully to its owner: said Tanaka, without taking his eyes from Eden’s face. ‘Hilt first.’

  The samurai’s eyes widened in disbelief. Then, still glowering, he turned the cutlass carefully in his hands, and inclined his head in a reluctant gesture of respect as he offered it to Eden.

  Uncertain of the meaning of this gesture, Eden remained watchful and made no immediate move to take the weapon.

  ‘Because of your action on the black ships I owe you a debt of gratitude,’ said Tanaka flatly, inclining his own topknotted head a fraction. ‘Now your sword is returned to you and the debt is repaid.’

  Struggling to conceal his surprise and relief, Eden nodded formally in response and accepted the weapon. Gotaro, who had picked up the empty gun belt, handed it over wordlessly so that Eden could re-fasten it around his waist and tuck the cutlass away.

  ‘Remember, spying in Nippon is punishable by instant death: added Tanaka curtly. ‘I take personal responsibility for waiving that punishment for the time being. And I restore your sword to you on one condition - that you return straight away to your ship. You will be responsible for your own safety on the way there - and if you are captured again, there will be no escaping execution

  ‘I thank you for your generosity, O Kami-san,’ replied Eden, and inclined his head towards Tanaka and the guard in turn.

  In the silence that followed, he glanced into the shadows where Tokiwa was still kneeling amongst the straw. She had straightened up and was watching and listening with a strained expression on her face. Their eyes met fleetingly, then she quickly lowered her gaze.

  ‘Before I begin my journey, O Kami-san said Eden, ‘I would like to request one assurance from you.,

  ‘You are in no position to request anything: said Tanaka brusquely. ‘You should go immediately!’

  ‘I ask only that Tokiwa-san should not be made a prisoner again: persisted Eden. ‘And that she should be allowed to return unhindered to her family.’

  ‘The safety of Tokiwa-san is my personal responsibility!’ Tanaka’s eyes hardened. ‘That matter need no longer concern you.’

  Eden looked again towards Tokiwa, but she kept her eyes averted and after a moment he turned reluctantly away. At the top of the ladder Sentaro was still waiting; his face was very pale and he was trembling visibly.

  ‘Sentaro should return with me to the ship said Eden over his shoulder, as he grasped the top of the ladder. ‘He fears greatly for his life now. It would be better if he returned home later when matters between our two countries are peacefully resolved.’ Tanaka looked at the castaway, seemingly uncertain of how to react; then he nodded quickly. ‘Very well - he may return with you. But make no further requests - just go quickly.’

  ‘I am grateful, O Kami-san,’ said Eden shortly.

  Sentaro prostrated himself swiftly on the boards, to express his own silent gratitude, and as Eden waited for the castaway to rise and descend the ladder ahead of him, he peered once more into the shadows. Tokiwa’s glossy kimono, now gathered more closely about her body, was reflecting the soft sheen of the moonlight and he could see that she had shifted into a formal kneeling posture amongst the straw, She had raised her eyes at last and was looking in his direction but her face was unfathomably expressionless and she did not move or call out. With her long black hair falling softly about her shoulders, she looked to Eden both fragile and hauntingly beautiful.

  Beyond the open grain-doors Mount Fuji was mistily discernible, still presiding silently over the events in the barn from afar, and Eden knew instinctively that every last detail of the scene would remain etched in his memory for ever: the distant sacred mountain, the kneeling doll-like presence of Tokiwa, the tumbled heaps of rice straw, the proud figure of Tanaka, the glowering vengeful face of his samurai henchman. He knew he would be able to summon a vivid image of the loft to mind whenever he wished and after one last, lingering glance in Tokiwa’s direction, he hurried down the ladder, gathered up his shirt and pouch, and mounted the horse which Sentaro was holding for him. Beckoning for the castaway to follow, he pulled his tattered hat down over his eyes and rode out quietly into the surrounding forest.

  21

  THE HOOFS OF Eden’s horse clattered loudly on the planks of a narrow wooden bridge as he led the way across a winding brook that foamed white in the moonlight. The track he had chosen was leading them up the side of a wooded, boulder-strewn ravine and following on twenty yards in his wake, Sentaro could see that the American was holding his leather clad compass constantly in front of him as he rode. Whenever they reached a fork in the path or an expanse of open forest which offered a choice of direction, Eden paused to consult the instrument by the light of the moon.

  They had not spoken since leaving the abandoned barn, but had cantered in silence cross the densely wooded hills for half an hour, following the narrowest and quietest tracks. They had encountered nobody en route and, noticing that Eden’s manner was abstracted, the castaway had not tried to address him. Whenever he changed direction, Eden glanced quickly over his shoulder to satisfy himself that they had not lost contact, and Sentaro sometimes lifted one hand briefly in acknowledgement.

  The sloping path curved in a wide horseshoe as it climbed the ravine and led on into shadowy woodlands where heavy-scented festoons of honeysuckle clustered thickly in the lower branches of the trees. Their fragrance filled the moonlit woods, and Sentaro was ducking his head low over his horse’s mane to avoid the trailing vines when h saw Eden swing suddenly around a dark outcrop of rock ahead of him and go out of sight. To catch up quickly he forced his horse into a gallop, but; on reaching the spur he was surprised to find that Eden had halted unexpectedly, and was waiting astride his horse in the shadowy lee of the rock. As Sentaro reined back his mount and skidded to a halt on the soft earth, Eden lifted a hand to his lips to caution silence, and motioned for him to draw in beside him.

  ‘What is it, master?’ whispered the Japanese, leaning close to Eden’s ear. ‘Why have we stopped?’

  ‘I think we’re being followed. Listen!’

  For a full minute they sat side by side, straining their ears without detecting any sound of pursuit. Then they heard the distant clatter of a single horse passing rapidly over the same wooden bridge that they had crossed and Sentaro nodded his head anxiously.

  ‘You’re right, master. But who could it be?’

  ‘Maybe Tanaka has sent his guard after us,’ whispered Eden fiercely. ‘Maybe he’s changed his mind and wants us killed

  ‘Whoever it is, he chooses to follow only at a distance: murmured Sentaro, after listening again to the faint hoofbeats. ‘He’s two or three minutes behind us. Maybe a rider has been sent to monitor our progress and report back to Prince Tanaka.’

  Eden nodded. ‘You could be right. But, whatever the reason, we must throw him off our scent.’

  Looking round quickly, Eden backed his horse into a cleft in the rocks an
d beckoned for Sentaro to follow. As they waited side by side in their place of concealment, they noticed that the white peak of Mount Fuji had again become visible from their high vantage point; it seemed, as before, to float silently into view in the far darkness and after glancing at it for a moment, Eden sat straighter in his saddle, straining his ears to pick up the sounds of the approaching horseman.

  ‘He’s still at least a minute behind us: whispered Sentaro after a pause. ‘And he’s not riding very fast.’

  Eden listened again then nodded wordlessly in agreement.

  Sighing loudly, Sentaro closed his eyes and inhaled, relishing the heady fragrance of the matted honeysuckle flowers which cloaked the surrounding trees. The rich scents of leaves and earth were also drifting on the still night air and suddenly he smiled. ‘I had forgotten how beautiful my country is, master,’ he breathed. ‘It is very good that I’ve come back - even for a short time.’

  ‘How long would it take, Sentaro?’ cut in Eden suddenly, his whisper urgent. ‘Just roughly?’

  ‘For the rider to catch us up, master, do you mean?’ queried the Japanese in a puzzled voice.

  ‘No, to climb to the top of Fuji-san!’

  Sentaro turned to look at Eden in surprise. The question had been posed in a barely audible whisper, and he found the American was staring towards the glowing volcano with a strange intensity in his expression.

  ‘Eight or ten hours of very hard toil, I think, from the very bottom up to the rim of the crater.’

  ‘Can it really be done so quickly?’

  ‘I’m told it was once climbed in just six and a half hours, master,’ whispered Sentaro. ‘It takes at least three hours to descend again, but it’s customary for pilgrims to spend one or even two nights up on the mountain. That way they can reach the summit in time for the most wonderful experience of all to watch from the crater as the sun rises above the eastern horizon, bringing the new day...’

  ‘How far are we now from Fuji-san?’ asked Eden in the same half-whisper, still staring towards the mountain. ‘How many miles?’

  ‘It looks very clear and close, master whispered Sentaro after some hesitation, ‘but Fuji-san creates many illusions. The mountain lies about sixty miles from Yedo. And from here it is maybe forty miles... But listen, the horseman is approaching!’

  They instinctively ducked their heads, calming their mounts as best they could as the thud of hoofs grew louder on the soft earth of the wooded ravine.

  There was no pause or break in their rhythm as the rider drew abreast of the rocks on the spur of the hill and they both recognized the figure of Gotaro when he entered their field of vision, riding steadily away from them along the track, hunched in concentration over his horse’s neck. They watched his shadowy shape disappear into the higher woodland then listened to the fading hoofbeats until they were certain that the guard had not turned back.

  ‘Which route shall we take now, master?’ whispered Sentaro urgently, seeing that Eden was again studying his compass. ‘We must go quickly because Gotaro will soon find he has lost our trail.’

  ‘Fuji-san is due north-west,’ said Eden absently, as though speaking his thoughts aloud, and lifted his gaze once more to the far-off mountain.

  ‘Yes, master, but we must head south towards the coast in the region of Uraga.’

  Eden remained strangely silent and when Sentaro turned to find out why, he found the American was still looking abstractedly towards Fuji.

  ‘What’s the name of your home village again?’ he asked without turning his head.

  ‘I was born in the coastal settlement of Yurutaki, master. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because I want to give you one last chance to consider going home to your family.’

  ‘But I’ve already told you, master,’ protested the castaway. ‘I am too afraid. . . I would be executed!’

  ‘Yurutaki can’t be more than fifteen or twenty miles from here. You could return under cover of darkness and let your loved ones know you are still alive. You could at least spend a few hours with them. And if it’s too dangerous to stay, you could return to the Susquehanna secretly. .

  ‘No, master, I don’t want to leave you.’

  ‘Then I must order you back to the ship now,’ said Eden, turning at last to look at the castaway. ‘Return to the cliffs where we came ashore, and swim back to the Susquehanna the same way. With luck you can be aboard before dawn.’

  ‘But, master, please. .

  Eden held up a hand to silence him, and pulled the notepad and a pencil from his waist-pouch. Turning in the saddle to make the most of the moonlight, he began to write rapidly.

  ‘I want you to give this to Flag Lieutenant Rice as soon as you get back,’ he said when he had finished writing. ‘I’ve described all we saw and heard at the cliff fort. And I’m urging them not to launch an attack under any circumstances. You can say I’ll give a fuller report on my return and that I’ve stayed ashore for a further two days to continue the reconnaissance. .

  The castaway shrank from taking the note and shook his head. ‘I won’t go, master! I won’t leave your side.’

  ‘This is an order!’ Eden held out the folded note more firmly. ‘I forbid you to remain with me any longer.’

  After a long pause Sentaro reached out reluctantly, took the folded paper and tucked it into his pouch. ‘What do you intend to do master?’

  ‘I’m going to climb to the summit of Mount Fuji.’

  Sentaro stared at him aghast. Then he too turned and looked towards the volcano.

  ‘Master, perhaps you didn’t fully understand! The ruling authorities of Nippon will show no mercy to any foreign barbarian who violates our sacred mountain! No gai-jin has ever climbed it. You would be defiling the holy precincts of the kami. You would be committing a terrible sacrilege!’

  ‘Nobody will know,’ said Eden quietly. ‘I will climb Mount Fuji in secret.’

  Sentaro continued to stare at the American officer with a dumbfounded expression on his face. ‘It’s not an easy climb, master. In fact it’s very dangerous. No pilgrims would attempt it until much later in July, when the snows have melted. It’s summer down here, but it’s still winter at the top of the mountain.’

  ‘I shan’t be up there very long.’

  ‘But the snow is very thick and the air is thin! There will be avalanches and fog and rain. Typhoons can come quickly, even on the lower slopes. Men have often died on this mountain. You need special warm clothes and experienced goriki - mountain men - to guide you to the rest huts. You need to be shown the right tracks up the steep slopes.

  ‘Have you ever climbed Fuji-san, Sentaro?’

  ‘No, master! But for a thousand years many villages throughout Nippon have each sent a single pilgrim to climb Fuji-san. They worship and pay homage at the summit for their friends and families. As a boy I remember listening to a neighbour tell of his experience. On his climb alone, two men fell to their deaths.’

  ‘I shall find a way of climbing safely to the crater.’

  ‘But why, master?’ pleaded the castaway. ‘Why must you go now?’

  ‘I may never get another chance, Sentaro. And I can feel the mountain beckoning.’

  ‘Prince Tanaka himself warned you: you’ll be killed if you’re found ashore!’

  ‘I won’t be found:

  ‘But you have so far to ride through fields and villages: said Sentaro desperately. ‘And it will be daylight soon...’

  ‘If necessary I’ll hide in the forests until darkness falls again.’

  ‘I wish I understood, master,’ moaned Sentaro. ‘I am sure you will die if you try to climb Fuji-san alone!’

  Eden turned to look down at the castaway, smiling suddenly. ‘Perhaps Fuji-san has stirred up the blood of my Indian ancestors. Perhaps the marrow in my bones knows better than my brain ...‘

  Sentaro wrinkled his brow. ‘I don’t understand, master.’

  ‘Maybe something inside me knows that Fuji holds secrets long forgotten
, secrets that need to be rediscovered... Or maybe some ancient part of me just wants to worship the sunrise again from the top of a sacred mountain.’

  Sentaro settled back in his saddle, nodding without really understanding. Glancing up at the taller man, he saw the shadows of his features thrown more sharply into relief by the moonlight, and in the half- darkness his eyes looked deeper set, his cheekbones higher and more angular.

  ‘Sometimes, master, I see the ancestors you spoke of very clearly in your face: said the castaway hesitantly. ‘And then I think I see something of my own people there too.’

  Eden looked at him in silence. ‘When you are two men in one skin, Sentaro,’ he said at last, ‘you realize that all the races of the world are brothers. Nothing will be right until everybody understands this - and acts every day with such understanding.’

  Sentaro took a deep breath. ‘You said before, master, we would climb Fuji-san together - when, like us, America and Nippon had become good friends...’

  Eden smiled and nodded. ‘Yes - but that may take too long.’

  ‘But why must you go alone now, master? Why won’t you let me go with you?’

  ‘Because I may risk my own life in this wild venture, Sentaro. But I may not risk yours too. You must go back to the ship

  Sentaro’s face tightened with emotion as he removed his broad, mollusc-shaped hat and held it out towards Eden. ‘Take this, please.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It will be a better disguise for you. And I don’t need it.’

  Smiling, Eden pulled off the battered remains of his own hat and replaced it with that of the castaway. Then he manoeuvred his horse out from the cleft of rock, and leaned over to clasp the castaway warmly by the hand.

  ‘Thank you, Sentaro. You’re a true brother. I’ll see you soon on board the Susquehanna.’

  He moved his horse quickly out onto the track, but ignored the path taken by the samurai guard. He had already tucked his compass away in his waist- pouch and, without hesitation, he urged the animal over the edge of the ravine and rode rapidly down its steep side, heading directly north-west towards the visible goal of Fuji.