Tokyo Bay Page 5

  ‘Sentaro, do people ever climb your sacred mountain?’ he asked softly, turning to face the castaway. ‘Do they climb to the very top?’

  ‘Yes, master.’ Sentaro nodded eagerly. ‘They call it the Supreme Altar of the Sun. All who respect the ancient gods must climb up to its summit once in their lives. So for hundreds of years pilgrims have come to climb Fuji-san from all parts of Nippon

  ‘What’s to be found at the summit?’ asked Eden quickly. ‘Is there a temple?’

  ‘Yes, a temple to a beautiful Shinto goddess. Many pilgrims claim they see her hovering like a cloud above the crater. They go there to pray before her shrine, and to salute the rising sun from the peak.

  But that can be dangerous. They say her guardian spirits hide at the precipices - and they may throw down any pilgrim who climbs up there with an impure heart.’

  For a moment Eden glanced at the sea, watching the swarms of Japanese boats advancing rapidly from the shore towards the Susquehanna. Then he looked quickly towards Fuji once more. ‘One day, Sentaro, I would like to climb your sacred mountain.’

  ‘But you can’t, master!’ gasped the castaway in horror.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘No gai-jin has ever climbed Mount Fuji. Even the women of Nippon are forbidden to set foot on our sacred mountain.’

  Eden considered this statement in silence, still looking thoughtfully towards the mountain. ‘Such beauty can’t be the sole preserve of any one nation,’ he said at last. ‘It belongs to all peoples of the wor1d

  ‘If you tried to climb Fuji-san, master, you would be killed without any hesitation,’ exclaimed Sentaro. ‘You must never try.’

  ‘But I’ve already climbed it,’ said Eden quietly.

  ‘How could you, master? You’ve never been here before.’

  ‘I mean I’ve already scaled Fuji-san in my heart.’ Eden turned to face the castaway who was now crouching by the gunport. ‘Last night in a vivid dream I reached the summit. Arid I felt something very beautiful and strange that I can’t explain.. . I still can’t forget that feeling. It made me want to go up there more than anything else in the world.’

  ‘I hope you never do, master,’ said Sentaro fearfully, after a long pause. ‘Because if you do, I’m sure you’ll die.’

  3

  ON THE QUARTERDECK, Commodore Perry’s flag lieutenant, John Rice, waited dutiful and alert at a suitable distance from his commanding officer. By the lieutenant’s side a fresh-faced midshipman stood eagerly at attention, his body as taut as a tightly coiled spring. Like their august superior, both men were tensely watching the ball of smoke curling up from the hilltop battery which had fired the single warning shot. Their faces showed that they too were wondering anxiously whether further shots would follow.

  Lowering his gaze, the lieutenant studied the imposing figure of Commodore Perry as he stood at the port rail. Holding his long telescope to his eye, he was watching the smoke of the explosion drift skyward, but he made no move to issue any further commands and Rice relaxed.

  ‘I’d guess the commodore has decided that disdain is the appropriate response to a gnat bite,’ whispered the flag lieutenant. ‘I don’t think he’s going to be lured into making any false move

  The eighteen-year-old midshipman, flattered by the flag lieutenant’s confidential aside, beamed and nodded his agreement. ‘So it would seem, sir!’

  Rice glanced casually down towards the spar deck, making a routine check that all his previous orders were being carried out, and by chance his eye fell on the Japanese castaway at the moment he flung himself prostrate at Robert Eden’s feet. The strangeness of this act beside an open gunport arrested the flag lieutenant’s attention, and he continued to watch as Eden dragged the Japanese upright and began to speak sharply to him. After a second or two, Rice looked round in Perry’s direction to see if the incident had attracted his superior’s attention; but the commodore was still scanning the fortified shore through his telescope. With a thoughtful expression, Rice drew out the notepad on which he normally jotted details of the commodore’s orders. Beneath Eden’s name he quickly scribbled an informal message, and, folding the paper in half, he handed it unobtrusively to the midshipman.

  ‘When you next have reason to go down to the spar deck, Mr. Harris,’ he said in a low voice, ‘give this quietly to Lieutenant Eden with my compliments. It’s a private message, not an order.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  The midshipman, who had followed the flag lieutenant’s gaze, tucked the note carefully into a pocket of his tunic and together they watched further animated exchanges take place between Eden and the Japanese castaway. They noticed that, while they talked, both men turned frequently to look towards the shore and the spectacular outline of Mount Fuji.

  ‘I’ve heard his men say that Lieutenant Eden is a very brave man: said the midshipman hesitantly. ‘They’ve got the greatest respect for him:

  ‘That respect is certainly deserved,’ said Rice pensively. ‘I know Lieutenant Eden better than most because we did our first year at Annapolis together when the Naval Academy was founded. We were just acting midshipmen in the Mexican war - but he volunteered to go ashore with landing parties to spike enemy guns - and showed exceptional courage.’

  ‘I hope I’ll have the same courage when my time comes, sir,’ said the midshipman, peering excitedly towards shore. ‘1 have a lot to learn from Lieutenant Eden -- and yourself.’

  ‘I don’t think his kind of courage can be learned, Mr. Harris,’ said Rice distractedly. ‘Many years ago, Lieutenant Eden’s great-grandfather was captured as a youth by Iroquois Indians when they raided a settlement in eastern Connecticut. A few years later he was seen leading Iroquois braves himself in another raid. Later in his life he returned to the same settlement, bringing with him a half-Indian son. That boy was to become Lieutenant Eden’s grandfather.

  Surprised and pleased by the flag lieutenant’s confidences, the young midshipman stared down at Eden with increased admiration in his eyes. ‘I hadn’t known all that, sir. Perhaps it explains the lieutenant’s remarkable character.’

  ‘Maybe. But there’s more to it than that. . .‘ Rice paused and frowned, his expression suggesting that, in confiding in the young midshipman, he was consciously attempting to order his own thoughts about his enigmatic brother officer. ‘Although he grew up in a wealthy merchant family, he clearly was a rebel like his great-grandfather. At sixteen, he ran off to marry his childhood sweetheart. She was only sixteen too and she died tragically. I think he still blames himself for her death. .

  The midshipman waited impatiently for Rice to continue, his curiosity fully aroused; but he dared not pose a direct question about a superior officer, in case he appeared insubordinate. ‘That sounds very sad, sir,’ he ventured at last.

  ‘Yes, it was - at the time she was in the pangs of a premature childbirth,’ continued Rice after another pause. ‘He was driving her to a doctor through a storm in the middle of the night. Their buggy overturned on a forest track. . . The baby, a son, survived

  - but she didn’t.’. Rice hesitated again, as though reluctant to give voice to possibly unreliable thoughts. ‘I’m only guessing, but perhaps his bravery comes from not valuing his own life very highly as a result of that. .

  ‘I’ve noticed Lieutenant Eden always keeps himself very much to himself, sir,’ said the midshipman tentatively.

  Rice nodded. ‘He once told rue he cursed God on that night in the wood.. . and he swore he would never pray again so long as he lived. He joined the Navy then - and ever since I’ve known him, he’s been remote and withdrawn.’ The flag lieutenant shook his head in puzzlement, still watching Eden and the Japanese. ‘I think for some reason, Mr. Harris, lie finds it easier to talk to that castaway than to us...’

  ‘Lieutenant Rice! Take a fresh signal for the squadron!’

  The deep baritone voice of Matthew Perry rang out across the quarterdeck and Rice hurried to his side, readying his notepad and pencil.
>
  The commodore was making one last imperious sweep of the bay with his eyeglass, watching the fast-moving Japanese guard-boats that were now appearing on all sides. Growing numbers of high prowed coastal junks were also darting out of the creeks and havens of the rocky shoreline, angling their sails to the wind in an attempt to draw near to the thundering warships - but none could match the speed of the intruders, and all were falling quickly behind.

  ‘My new signal shall read, “Have no communication of any kind with shore,” boomed Perry. “And allow none from shore!” Start the flags on the starboard forward halyards to emphasize the gravity of this signal!’

  ‘Aye, sir! Very good, sir!’

  Lieutenant Rice barked out his 2cknowledgement, saluted and moved smartly away to hand the written signal to the midshipman. He watched the junior officer make haste down the ladder to the spar deck and race to the signal officer’s post amidships. Within seconds the first coloured message flags were fluttering up the mizzenmast and the midshipman made a detour on returning to the quarterdeck to hand over the private message to Robert Eden.

  ‘With Lieutenant Rice’s compliments sir!’

  The boy saluted smartly as he passed on the slip of paper. Close up, he realized that traces of Eden’s Indian ancestry were indeed visible in his broad face; but, although the trainee officer stood respectfully to attention before him, Eden did not look at him directly. Instead he merely nodded his thanks before dismissing him, then glanced briefly towards the flag lieutenant on the quarterdeck to acknowledge the note’s delivery. Before opening it, Eden scanned the surrounding sea and the distant beaches, to check whether his gunnery crews might be called urgently into action. Only when he was satisfied there was no immediate danger did he unfold the piece of paper.

  The message read: Robert -first, may I offer a friendly word of advice. I think our Japanese castaway should remain invisible in his quarters during this dangerous period of our approach -, his sake as well as ours. Perhaps you would give him appropriate instructions. Secondly, a personal request. The commodore, for protocol reasons, has ordered me to conduct any initial negotiations on his behalf He wishes to remain unseen, and will eventually meet only the very highest imperial dignitary. If any Japanese, armed or unarmed, come aboard, I want you and nobody else to head my guard party. I hope you’ll agree - John Rice.

  Eden folded the note away into a pocket and glanced round at Sentaro. The Japanese was still crouched on the deck, staring intently through the gunport. Following his gaze, Eden saw that Mount Fuji seemed to have grown suddenly in size, and for the first time its broad base had become fully visible. But because the lower slopes glowed grey in the growing light, they still seemed to melt and merge moment by moment into the paleness of the morning sky, renewing the impression that the dramatic peak had the power to detach itself from the earth whenever it chose, and to soar majestically into the heavens. The enchantment of the mountain, he found, was as great by day as by night - and it was with an effort that he turned away and bent to tap the Japanese castaway on the shoulder.

  ‘The next few hours could be difficult here on deck, Sentaro,’ he said firmly in Japanese. ‘It would be best if you went back to your place under the fo’c’s’le.’

  ‘Yes, master, of course,’ gasped the castaway, his eyes widening with apprehension. ‘I’ll go at once.’

  ‘And you’d better stay there until I tell you it’s safe to come out.’

  ‘Yes, master!’

  As the Japanese rose to hurry away, Eden found himself moved by the fearful expression in his eyes, and he dropped a kindly hand on his shoulder. ‘We’re all in danger here, Sentaro. But try to stay calm - I’ll do everything I can to protect you

  4

  ON A CLIFFTOP IN the lower reaches of the bay, Prince Tanaka Yoshio stood among a tense group of high-ranking Japanese, watching the American warships move inexorably northward towards Yedo. It was mid-afternoon, and they could see their own Nipponese guard-boats and coastal junks still buzzing like an ineffectual gnat-swarm in the wake of the massive, black-hulled steam frigates. Occasional puffs of smoke continued to rise into the still air as successive warning shots were fired from shore batteries, but nothing interrupted the steady progress of the US Navy squadron.

  ‘They have already penetrated further into the bay than any other foreign vessel: rasped one scowling daimyo as he stared southward towards the distant ships. ‘They must be stopped now by force!’

  ‘You know it’s impossible for us to halt them by force of arms, Lord Daizo,’ said Tanaka quietly. ‘At present we have no adequate defence against such power.’

  ‘We have innumerable brave samurai who will fight to their last drop of blood,’ said the richly robed daimyo, his face darkening with anger. ‘Don’t forget that!’

  ‘They are truly kurufune - black ships - just as the rumours said: muttered a shogunate official who wore a more modest wide-sleeved gown of patterned green silk and a lacquered bonnet. ‘Only a divine wind from the gods, like the kamikaze that wrecked the fleet of Kublai Khan, wi1l drive them away...’

  A second official, a scholarly looking interpreter, garbed in similar fashion, looked up anxiously at the clear sky, shaking his head. ‘There will be no great wind today - but we shall forbid them to anchor, as the Council of the Shogun has directed. I’ve composed a command in Dutch, ordering them to leave at once for Nagasaki. The leader of the delegation can display it from our boat. .

  ‘What sort of “command” have you prepared, Haniwara Tokuma?’ demanded the scowling daimyo contemptuously. ‘Let us see it!’

  Holding out both hands, the interpreter unfurled a giant scroll for the inspection of the other dignitaries. Inscribed with big, hand-written Dutch words that would be visible from a distance, the message constituted a defiant order for the American ships to sail back to Nagasaki -Japan’s southernmost port where, during two centuries of total foreign exclusion, a handful of traders from the Netherlands had been permitted to supervise the trickle of trade and other contacts with Western nations.

  ‘Your feeble message will be ignored, Haniwara-san; said Lord Daizo explosively, waving the banner aside. ‘It will prove quite useless.’

  ‘It is my duty to exhibit it nevertheless, my lord; replied the interpreter, bowing nervously towards the daimyo as he closed the scroll. ‘I have been instructed to do so. It will at least make our position plain.’

  ‘Unfortunately the Lord Daizo is right,’ said Tanaka, glancing round at several other daimyo who were watching the approaching warships with distracted expressions. ‘The Americans have too many guns - they won’t obey such a demand.’

  ‘But we must show the enemy that we are ready to fight. And very soon we will be prepared!’ A burly, heavy-chested man still strong and forceful in middle age, Lord Daizo glowered at Tanaka in response, then gestured with his arm along the cliff top to draw attention to the growing numbers of foot soldiers and mounted warriors being hastily marshalled into positions overlooking the bay. ‘A force of twenty thousand fighting men has been raised from my own estates and from other fiefs in the region. Soon they will all be in position - and none will fear the barbarians and their black ships.’

  Amongst the squadrons of fighting men, who were arrayed in the colours of their clan lords, a few ancient-looking cannon were being dragged into place on the heights by sweating peasants clad only in loincloths. All along the coastal ridges, coloured canvas screens were being hastily erected to help conceal the movement of troops and weapons from the bay. By the minute, new contingents of men in leather and metal body armour were pouring up the hillsides, clutching pikes, spears, or bows and arrows, and the infantrymen among them carried long- barrelled, muzzle-loading muskets and flintlocks on their shoulders.

  ‘It will not be to our advantage to provoke an outright attack just now,’ said Tanaka carefully, after studying the visible strength of the defences. ‘The American guns are very powerful. And although they are comparatively few in numbe
rs, those who man the ships are extremely confident in their strength.’

  ‘Those could be the words, Prince Tanaka, of one who is reluctant to fight for other reasons: said Lord Daizo slightingly. ‘How do you know all this?’

  Tanaka eyed the daimyo steadily, giving no sign of having taken offence at his implied insult. ‘My lord, reports brought from the last anchorage of the American ships in the Lew Chew islands make all this very clear. The extent of their power is at present unknown. So it would be most unwise to provoke them into giving us a demonstration. .

  ‘The power of the samurai’s sword has always been our surest weapon!’ declared another young nobleman who until then had stood silent at Lord Daizo’s side. ‘We should be the first to demonstrate that.’ He paused and stared hard at Tanaka, one hand on the hilts of his twin swords. His brooding features were recognizably heir to those of the older man at his side, and before speaking again he looked round challengingly at all the other members of the gathering. ‘I am sure most of us here agree that we should be ready to sacrifice our lives without hesitation. Then our enemies will know we are fearless in defence of our sacred territory.’

  ‘The sentiments of my son Yakamochi are those that should spring naturally from all your hearts,’ said Lord Daizo vehemently. ‘So I’m glad that someone of his courage will accompany the officials who are to make the first approach to the American ships.’

  ‘Why do you say that, my lord?’ enquired Tanaka, suddenly concerned.

  ‘Because if the American ships can be boarded by some subterfuge, a lightning strike could be made against their commander or his senior officers! That would convince the foreign barbarians of our fierce determination to resist them to the end!’

  Before replying, Tanaka looked slowly round the circle of silent faces; in varying degrees all their expressions betrayed alarm and uncertainty and he noticed that many in the group avoided his eye. ‘Nobody doubts the courage of our fighting men - or their readiness to die gloriously. But if we provoke a skirmish at the outset and manage to kill just a few of our enemies, what will be the immediate result?’