Tokyo Bay Page 39

  ‘Good morning, Commodore said Armstrong quietly, gazing in the same direction, towards the cliff tops. ‘There seems to be more activity around those forts than ever before.’

  Matthew Perry grunted an inaudible greeting, but made no other reply. After peering hard into the mists for a long time he raised his head cautiously, like some big animal scenting the air, and looked up towards the brightening sky. ‘There’s no wind at all this morning, Mr. Armstrong,’ he said absently, without looking at the missionary-interpreter. ‘That means the sail frigates can’t move closer inshore. So the Plymouth will stay here, and its guns will command Uraga.’ He paused, scanning the shore again towards the north. ‘Saratoga will be able to direct its cannon at the next town and the forts surrounding it...’

  ‘I think it’s called Humai on the charts, sir,’ said Armstrong.

  ‘Just so, Saratoga will command Humai.’

  The commodore fell silent again, turning his attention back to the nearest fortifications and the growing number of warriors moving above Uraga. His eyes narrowed as he watched, but he still offered no comment.

  ‘Are you expecting trouble, Commodore?’ ventured Armstrong tentatively. ‘To me there does seem to be a new sense of purpose and urgency in their movements.’

  ‘I have no serious apprehension that there will be a warlike termination to today’s ceremonies said Perry sharply. ‘Our best chance of security will lie in our capacity to put on an impressive display of power.’

  Armstrong knew that late the previous evening the commodore had summoned the captains of all four warships to an urgent conference on the Susquehanna, after sending a scouting party in a cutter to Kurihama bay. The party had taken soundings and carefully surveyed the location of the ceremonial pavilion and its surrounding fortifications; armed with this knowledge, the commander-in-chief and his officers had mapped out their strategy for the vital day. No information had so far been passed to Armstrong himself, but from what he knew of Perry’s character he was certain that personal boldness and a forthright courage, which were the hallmarks of his career, would be stamped very clearly on the proceedings.

  ‘May I ask exactly how you propose, Commodore, to “display” our power?’ asked Armstrong respectfully. ‘Knowing might help me pitch my interpreting at the correct level.’

  ‘Soon, Mr. Armstrong, we shall weigh anchor along with the Mississippi and steam the short distance to the entrance of Kurihama bay: said Perry brusquely. ‘We shall anchor across its mouth, with our guns primed and springs on our cables. That way we can threaten the landing place unwaveringly with the full power of our broadsides. I shall place additional howitzers in fully manned boats, which will be held alongside the frigates when we go ashore. These craft will be kept at a constant state of alert, ready to go into action at a moment’s notice.’

  ‘And how many men will you take ashore?’

  ‘Three hundred or more! A hundred and ten marines, a hundred and twenty sailors, forty musicians from the two ships’ bands, and a large body of officers. Each man will be armed with a sword and a pistol or a musket. All firearms will be loaded. There will be a thousand charges of ball in the party - and each of the fifteen boats will carry extra cartridge boxes!’

  ‘Those numbers might be seen as excessive to support the peaceful delivery of an official letter,’ said Armstrong dryly. ‘But, if hostilities break out, our most conservative estimates say the Japanese have at least ten thousand visible armed men ranged against us.’

  ‘But armed with what exactly, Mr. Armstrong?’ asked Perry dismissively. ‘Nothing remotely dangerous to us, I’ll warrant.’

  ‘Since I shall be at your side, Commodore, I hope you’re not underestimating the fighting spirit of the Japanese. They have a reputation as fierce warriors.’

  ‘Talk to the men, Mr. Armstrong, if you still doubt cut in Perry peremptorily and lifted his telescope to his eye to survey the cliff tops. ‘Every Yankee I’ve spoken to believes we can scatter any number of men with one broadside, one war-whoop and a single determined rush with cold steel.’

  ‘I wonder if Robert Eden would be able to confirm that opinion as sound,’ remarked Armstrong mildly. ‘Provided he’s still alive, of course, to confirm anything at all.’

  The interpreter turned his head to look enquiringly at the squadron commander, but if he had heard the reference to his missing lieutenant he gave no sign. For a full minute Perry continued to study the shore intently through his telescope; then he snapped it closed with a decisive gesture.

  ‘I have every confidence in the valour of the men presently under my command,’ he said, looking directly at the missionary. ‘And in our superior firepower. I trust your work as interpreter today for this expedition will also reflect that total confidence. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go and prepare the day’s orders. We must weigh anchor very soon.’

  The burly figure swung briskly away across the quarterdeck, heading for his cabin, and Armstrong watched him until he went out of sight. Turning to look towards the shore again, the missionary felt a new shudder of apprehension run up his spine. He wondered once more about the fate of the missing lieutenant who had disappeared overboard so dramatically six long days ago and, try as he might, he could not dismiss the feeling that there was something ominous in the almost total absence of information about him during all that time.

  The billowing mists that he could see still clinging to the hills and gorges inland also seemed to intensify the nagging anxiety he felt about his own safety Standing at the rail, he tried to calm his fears by imagining himself stepping ashore and moving with unflustered dignity amidst the great multitude of feudal Japanese soldiery But such thoughts, far from soothing him, served only to heighten his nervousness and he started suddenly when the Mississippi blew a piercing blast on her whistle to announce that she was preparing to move.

  As he listened to the clank of the Mississippi’s anchor-chain and watched her giant paddle-wheels begin to churn, he resolved suddenly that before landing he would do something he had never done before. He would borrow a blue officer’s jacket and for the very first time in his life strap on a sheathed sword! Because of Christ’s agonized exhortation to Peter to put away his steel in the Garden of Gethsemane, he knew at once that he would never be able to draw and use such a weapon himself, even in self- defence. But if he carried one with him, he reasoned inwardly as the Susquehanna too began to weigh anchor, at least he would not stand out as the only defenceless target in the entire American landing party.

  For a few minutes longer he stood alone on the quarterdeck, mulling over his astounding decision. Part of him felt he should change his mind and he tried to tell himself several times that his faith in God should be sufficient protection. But this logic, he found, was not sufficiently reassuring, and his disquiet persisted. Then, as he watched the bows of the two great smoke-belching warships swing slowly to point south towards Kurihama, he shook his head once in a gesture of finality and hurried below to seek out the ship’s armourer and request that he be provided with a suitable blade.

  43

  PRINCE TANAKA HEARD the Mississippi’s shrill whistle split the stillness of the early morning as he raced his horse at breakneck speed along a narrow, woodland track high above Kurihama. He was riding at the head of his samurai guard troop and when they reached a wider road winding along an open ridge a few minutes later, he slowed his mount to a walk and turned in the saddle to look down towards the coast. Through holes in the patchy mist he could see the two massive black ships or the foreign barbarians, and both were sending long smudges of smoke skyward as they steamed south on the mirror- calm waters of the bay. Because there was no wind, all the canvas of the steamers remained furled, and he could see that the two sailing sloops-of-war had been forced to remain stationary at their anchorages.

  ‘We have almost run out of time,’ he said grimly over his shoulder to Gotaro, who had reined in beside him. ‘We have only two observation posts left to check - and the bla
ck ships are already preparing to aim their guns at Kurihama.’

  Both men were breathing hard from the exertion of the ride and the guard captain nodded wordlessly as he gazed down into the bay. With the onset of the day, the winding dirt road onto which they had come out was beginning to fill up with reserve columns of infantry moving quickly and silently to new locations around Kurihama. Military mule-trains heavily laden with food were also beginning to appear among local peasants hauling their farm produce to market on their backs. Occasional civilian palanquins bobbed among the tramping columns, and when Tanaka and his escort got moving again, some of the bodyguards had to ride ahead of him shouting and gesticulating with their swords to cut a passage through the growing swarms of men and animals.

  ‘Our next post is about a mile from here snapped Tanaka at the men around him, as he turned onto a deserted woodland track again and urged his horse into a gallop. ‘After that there is only one left. Follow my example! We must ride as hard as we can!’

  The guards leaned low over the necks of their mounts as they spurred furiously forward through the woods at Tanaka’s heels. It was the third time since midnight that they had checked the string of observation posts which he had set up in a last act of desperation along the high escarpment overlooking the bay. Twenty or thirty of his best cavalry samurai had been stationed in discreet bivouacs at the junctions of all known tracks leading down to the coast. They had been given strict orders not to attack but to inform him immediately of any suspicious armed column that might be transporting the captured foreign barbarian to Kurihama. But, as the night dragged on and dawn broke, no sightings at all had been reported. At first he had waited at a central camp to which messengers were ordered to bring information; then, as the empty hours ticked by, he had himself begun patrolling impatiently back and forth along the observation posts at a rapid gallop, followed by his hard-pressed guard troop. But as each bivouac was approached, the disconsolate attitudes of the waiting warriors had always told their own story, even before they were questioned. Despite his mounting inner tension, however, Tanaka’s outward demeanour had remained unemotional in the face of each new disappointment, and when he reined in his sweating horse at the penultimate post set up in a roadside copse, he watched with an expressionless face as the post’s commander bowed elaborately low in greeting to compensate for having nothing to report.

  ‘Have you seen nothing at all suspicious?’ asked Tanaka in a tight voice, glancing towards the nearby road where peasants were straggling past in groups. ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘Unhappily I am quite certain, O Kami-san,’ replied the post commander in a regretful tone. ‘We have scrutinized every passing column and every individual most carefully. There has been no sign at all of what you are seeking.’

  Tanaka nodded curtly in acknowledgement and the commander began to bow low again, but was distracted by a sudden commotion of galloping hoofs approaching along the road from the south. Both men turned their heads sharply as two Kago clan samurai from the last observation post a mile away swung their horses into the bivouac in a swirl of dust. A scrawny, half-naked prisoner, bound hand and foot, was slung across the neck of the leading horse, and its rider leapt from the saddle and bowed quickly on recognizing Tanaka.

  ‘What is this?’ demanded the nobleman, a gleam of hope appearing suddenly in his eyes. ‘Who is your captive?’

  The leading samurai pulled the hobbled prisoner from his horse and forced him roughly to his knees in front of Tanaka. ‘He’s a chair-bearer, O Kami-san. We captured him a few minutes ago in the hills above our post, where we were patrolling.’ Breathing quickly, the samurai turned and gestured with one arm towards the steep, tree-cloaked heights above the road. ‘We spied a long guard column, wearing the crests of Lord Daizo. They were escorting a single norimono down a wooded gorge. In the mist we got close without them seeing us. There were many reserve bearers, and this man was among them. He stopped to relieve himself among the trees, so we swooped to capture him without being seen. He has told us they are escorting a very important prisoner to Kurihama - but he says he will be killed by Lord Daizo’s warriors if he says anymore!’

  ‘He will be killed instantly, where he is kneeling, if he remains silent,’ said Tanaka, drawing his long sword and approaching the cringing captive with deliberate steps.

  The bearer, who wore only a loin-cloth and a sweat-grimed turban, looked up in terror at the gleaming blade. His eyes rolled in fear as the nobleman swished the sword suddenly before his face in a lightning movement which would have beheaded him if it had come six inches closer. Standing perfectly still, Tanaka rested the razor-sharp edge of the weapon against the base of the bearer’s neck and applied a gentle pressure until a slow trickle of blood began to appear on the steel.

  ‘Tell us all you know,’ said Tanaka urgently.

  Trembling, and paralysed with fear, the bearer gaped up mutely first at Tanaka then at the watching ring of hostile samurai. Realizing that blood had begun to flow down his chest, he opened and closed his mouth convulsively but no sounds emerged.

  ‘Is Daizo’s prisoner a foreign barbarian?’ prompted Tanaka quietly, increasing the pressure of his blade. ‘Tell me now, or you are dead.’

  The bearer began to nod frantically. ‘Yes, O Kami-san he croaked at last. ‘The prisoner of Lord Daizo is indeed a foreign barbarian.’

  ‘Good. Very good,’ breathed Tanaka, a gleam of triumph appearing in his eyes. ‘And he is still alive, yes?’

  ‘Yes, he lives, O Kami-san,’ blurted the bearer. ‘He is badly wounded. . . and also bound and blindfolded. But he lives.’

  ‘Where have you carried him from?’

  ‘From the region of our sacred mountain, O Kami-san,’ said the bearer desperately. ‘But we travelled mostly by night to cloak our path.’

  ‘Good,’ said Tanaka again, easing the pressure on his blade. ‘And what is the exact condition of the foreign barbarian?’

  ‘He has wounds to the head and in his leg, O Kami-san. They are bandaged but still bloody: The bearer shifted gingerly on his knees, easing his neck fractionally away from the sword. ‘He has been given water, rice and eggs during the rest stops. But he lapses often into unconsciousness. He’s constantly blindfolded and when allowed to stand, he is very weak and unsteady on his legs.’

  ‘Is he still wearing the garb of a peasant of Nippon?’

  ‘Yes, O Kami-san, he is.’

  Tanaka looked up quickly at the samurai who had brought in the captive. ‘Is all the terrain wooded and steep where the armed column is descending?’

  ‘It is, O Kami-san - densely wooded and very steep.’

  ‘And the paths are narrow - with only room for men and horses to pass in single file?’

  The samurai nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, mostly so, o Kami-san

  ‘And what sort of carriage was being used to transport the foreign barbarian?’

  ‘It was impossible to see clearly in the mist,’ said the warrior, shaking his head apologetically. ‘It seemed to be a simple civilian carrying-chair - a black norimono.’

  ‘Forgive me for interrupting, O Kami-san said Gotaro suddenly. ‘Shouldn’t I begin rallying our forces from the other observation posts, so that we can launch a lightning attack before it is too late?’

  Tanaka shook his head decisively, without taking his eyes from the shuddering captive. ‘We can’t attack openly amongst such a great concentration of forces. If we did, we might start a terrible civil war - and that would give Daizo just the excuse he needs to attack and slaughter the foreign barbarians. If we are to succeed now, we must employ subterfuge...’

  ‘Whatever you say, O Kami-san,’ replied the guard captain, bowing his head respectfully. ‘But how can we help you?’

  Tanaka looked desperately about himself, his intense expression indicating that his thoughts were racing. On the road another supply train was passing at a rapid jog-trot, and two or three enclosed carrying-chairs had halted for a moment to allow the long line
of animals and their drivers to pass.

  ‘What kind of norimono exactly is being used to carry the foreign barbarian?’ demanded Tanaka, again pressing his sword against the bearer’s shoulder. ‘Is it anything like those that are passing us now?’

  The bearer turned his fearful eyes towards the road, then nodded hastily. ‘Yes, O Kami-san. Something like the black one. It was just an ordinary norimono like that.’

  Commandeer it at once, Gotaro!’ ordered Tanaka over his shoulder. ‘Hold the bearers and its occupant here - and capture a few other passing bearers, too. Bind them all and hide them under guard among the trees.’

  Without a moment’s hesitation Gotaro drew his sword and signalled to half a dozen other guards to follow him. Yelling loudly, they spurred their horses towards the halted chair and surrounded it, brandishing their weapons. One of the samurai wrenched open its door and hauled out its shocked occupant, a grey-bearded official in a silk gown. Then the guards began shepherding the bearer-coolies, the norimono and the official back into the shelter of the trees.

  ‘Wipe away the prisoner’s blood with his turban, and replace it on his head,’ snapped Tanaka, motioning forward the samurai who had brought in the original captive. ‘Leave his bonds in place, and bind some other blood-soaked bandages about his legs. Stop a passing peasant and steal some clothes to dress him in. Then blindfold him and place him inside this norimono. Is all that clear?’

  ‘Yes, O Kami-san,’ called the samurai, rushing to obey. ‘Your orders are perfectly clear.’

  While the prisoner was being trussed further, Tanaka looked searchingly round at his remaining guards. ‘I want six volunteers to join me. . . Six volunteers strong enough to help me carry a norimono a good distance on our bare shoulders - and brave enough to risk combat against fine swordsmen without any arms of our own.’ He looked each bodyguard in the face in turn. ‘We can disguise ourselves with the loin-cloths and turbans of these captured coolies. Now, who will join me?’