Tokyo Bay Page 8

  The horror of those images forced her to open her eyes at last, and she shuddered as they faded from her mind. For several minutes she remained on her knees, listening absently to the unending tramp of marching feet outside the inn. Then, still wondering what was really happening in the blighted bay before the city, she bowed her head and repeated the prayers, whispering her entreaties with an even greater fervour than before.

  7

  ‘STRIKE NOW!’ yelled Robert Eden. ‘And strike accurately.’

  The second lieutenant watched a new wave of howling, loin-clothed Japanese from the guard-boats reach for handholds to help them swing over the bulwarks of the Susquehanna onto the spar deck. But as fast as they clawed at the stays and rigging of the flagship, the pike-wielding American gunners rapped and jabbed at their hands and arms, to send them tumbling back into the sea.

  Now that the four warships were riding stationary at anchor in the quiet waters of the bay, they were easier targets. Flurries of a dozen guard boats had closed in around each of them while others circled, watching the determined efforts to board. The order ‘Clear decks for action!’ had again rung out minutes before, and the blue-jacketed marines and all ratings were drawn up around every likely boarding point. Armed with carbines, pikes, cutlasses and pistols, they were brandishing their weapons and shouting raucously in their efforts to deter the guards. Some of the muscular Japanese were swarming up the anchor cables, while others had succeeded in attaching grappling-hook lines to the ships’ sides. As fast as the lines were attached, they were cut or cast off - but the harbour guards did not give up.

  ‘Hold firm now!’ Eden called out encouragement to his gunners as he watched a second wave of Japanese swarming upwards, shouting more loudly in outrage at the rough despatch of their comrades. He waited until they were well within striking distance before calling out a crisp new order - then watched with narrowed eyes as the gunners again dealt determinedly with the attack.

  One small, wiry Japanese succeeded in reaching the top of the bulwark and was about to launch himself down onto the deck, but three brawny gunners caught him and forced him back bodily over the side. V/hen a third wave of climbers appeared moments later, they were again beaten off with the same furious energy and the noise of angry shouting from the boats below rose to an uproar.

  ‘If they’re really determined n a fight to the finish murmured an educated American voice at Eden’s shoulder, ‘it could all be very uncomfortable. By my reckoning there must be several million of them - against just a few hundred of us.’

  Eden turned his head sharply on recognizing the voice of Samuel Armstrong, the veteran China missionary who had joined the squadron at Hong Kong at Commodore Perry’s request, because he was the only American in Asia reputed to have any proper knowledge of the Japanese language. A grizzled, frock-coated figure with luxuriant mutton-chop whiskers, he had rarely left his privileged place beside the commodore during the entire voyage, so his sudden appearance by the dangerous entry port surprised Eden.

  ‘Perhaps you would be safer, sir, if you returned at once to the bridge or the quarterdeck,’ said Eden firmly, still watching the guard-boats milling below them. ‘It could get very unpleasant here.’

  Both men could see that the other American warships were being simultaneously besieged by boarding parties. The noise made by attackers and defenders alike was deafening, but the crews of the other three ships were resisting the assaults as vigorously and successfully as those on the Susquehanna.

  ‘As a matter of fact, Lieutenant, I’ve been sent down here on the orders of Commodore Perry himself’ explained Armstrong quietly, pointing to one of the boats bobbing below ‘It looks as though there may be a good opportunity to communicate.’

  Following the direction of the missionary’s arm, Eden again spotted the boat with the black-tasselled prow. A different scroll was now being held aloft by the same green-robed official, arid Armstrong was peering at it through the open port.

  ‘In French, not Dutch this time,’ he grunted, ‘but the same content as before. It says, “You must depart immediately - all anchoring here by foreign ships is forbidden.”

  Leaning out through the opening, Armstrong waved both hands elaborately, to indicate comprehension and a simultaneous rejection of the message. Renewed shouts of indignation greeted Armstrong’s gesture, but because of the uproar he was unable to hear what was being said. When he conveyed this by means of a mime involving his hands and ears, the guard-boat was manoeuvred closer to the entry port.

  ‘I-can-speak-Dutch,’ called Haniwara Tokuma in poor English, rising anxiously to his feet beside the green-robed envoy. ‘Can-you-understand-Dutch?’

  ‘Speak on!’ roared Armstrong happily in Dutch. ‘I can understand Dutch much better than Japanese.’

  ‘We wish to be allowed aboard,’ called the scholarly looking interpreter in his reedy accent. ‘We escort an important official! Please prepare to receive us.’

  Armstrong looked significantly towards Eden, who was following their exchange closely without understanding the words. ‘There’s just a chance we’ll avoid conflict here,’ he murmured. ‘We may be able to pull back from the brink. .

  ‘We must come aboard and talk to you,’ called the interpreter again. ‘Be prepared to receive us.’

  ‘We cannot receive you,’ yelled Armstrong in response. ‘Our chieftain is of the very highest rank in our country. He represents our President, who is the equivalent of your Emperor. He will only speak to the most senior representatives of Nippon.’

  Eden watched and listened with bated breath. As though by some invisible signal, the guards had for the moment ceased all attempts to board the flagship. On seeing this, the tense gunners and marines lining the flagship’s rails rested their pikes and other weapons and strained their ears to catch some hint of the exchanges taking place between the missionary and the chief guard-boat.

  ‘The Vice-Governor of Uraga himself is here in this boat,’ shouted the Japanese interpreter, motioning towards the stony-faced official at his side, who was garbed extravagantly in sea-green silk robes and a gleaming, black-lacquered hat. ‘The deputy governor is certainly of sufficient rank to be received.’

  Armstrong cupped a hand to his mouth and leaned out through the entry port again. ‘The commander of these ships is known as “the Most High Lord of the Interior”,’ he shouted, drawing his words out slowly to ensure they were clearly understood. ‘He is not prepared to meet with anybody less than a high government minister. For its own safety your party should withdraw to the shore at once!’

  Disconcerted, the Japanese officials bent their heads and huddled together, talking and gesticulating animatedly. Stepping back into the shadow of the bulkhead, Armstrong watched their deliberations with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  ‘I think it’s working, Lieutenant,’ he breathed, looking quickly in Eden’s direction. ‘Your Commodore Perry is a stubborn, high-handed man - but one of uncanny judgement.’

  ‘Aren’t these dangerous games to play, Mr. Armstrong?’ asked Eden sharply, looking down at the growing numbers of armed boats circling the flagship. ‘We’re already very close to open hostilities. To avoid unnecessary bloodshed, wouldn’t it be more prudent just to talk to them without further delay?’

  The clamour of drums and gongs from the shore had become noticeably louder, and many temple bells could now be heard tolling urgently around the headlands. The shouts of the guards filling the air about the four warships had also begun to rise angrily, augmenting the atmosphere of tension.

  ‘Every foreign ship that has tried to come peacefully into a Japanese harbour in recent years has been boarded without ceremony, Lieutenant,’ said Armstrong mildly, still watching the boat below them with intent eyes. ‘Their officers have been jostled and humiliated, and permission to land has invariably been refused. We don’t want to experience that again, do we?’

  ‘Customs men of every nation inspect all incoming ships: repl
ied Eden equally mildly. ‘The Japanese can justifiably claim they have every right to come on board. .

  ‘There’s some logic in what you say-’ began Armstrong then broke off suddenly on seeing the Japanese interpreter in the guard-boat stand up again.

  When he waved an arm to attract attention, Armstrong leaned out of the entry port.

  ‘We have a suggestion: cried Haniwara, again speaking in Dutch. ‘The American High Lord of the Interior should appoint a subordinate aide of equal rank to receive the Vice-Governor of Uraga. .

  Armstrong hesitated, cocking his head thoughtfully, as though considering this proposal. Then he nodded exaggeratedly. ‘I will go to consult with our Most High Lord about your request. I will return soon with his response.’

  With a flourish the missionary turned away and took several long, quick paces which carried him out of sight of the Japanese below. Then he stopped, pulled a gold watch on a chain from a waistcoat pocket, and consulted it. After returning the watch to its place, he moved back against the bulwark beside Eden, taking care to remain concealed.

  ‘As we correctly anticipated they have asked that an official be allowed on board and speak with a subordinate of our “Most High Lord of the Interior”.’ Armstrong smiled confidingly. ‘That’s how I have referred to the commodore so far in our exchanges - it’s terminology they understand. And I’ve told them I will go and consult with “His Eminence”. As I think you already know, the flag lieutenant has been deputed to conduct any low-level negotiations - and he has chosen you as his chief bodyguard. This delay of a few minutes is purely ceremonial.’

  Armstrong checked his watch elaborately once more and Eden glanced along the bulwark at his own armed gunners, who were still drawn up at battle stations. Their swarthy faces remained alert as they watched the seething boats below though some glanced anxiously towards Eden and the interpreter, trying to comprehend what was happening.

  ‘When their vice-governor comes up our ladder:

  mused Armstrong, ‘he’ll be the first Japanese official ever to set foot on American “territory”, don’t you see? And it will be on American terms. So, at long last, we will have put a stop to the insolence with which Japan has always treated foreigners.’

  ‘But under the threat of force: interjected Eden evenly. ‘And coming uninvited - as intruders.’

  Armstrong looked hard at the young lieutenant, noticing his high-set cheekbones and his dark, watchful eyes. ‘Your family history has perhaps given you a natural sympathy for those you see as underdogs,’ said the missionary gently. ‘And I’d like you to know how much I admire that-’

  ‘I wasn’t seeking your admiration,’ snapped Eden, his eyes suddenly ablaze. ‘Perhaps we should drop this subject . .

  ‘Don’t misunderstand me, Lieutenant.’ The missionary laid a calming hand on his arm. ‘Such independence of mind is rare in a young navy officer. But don’t forget all this isn’t one-sided. We’re offering the Japanese a fair and equal basis for negotiation.’

  He checked his watch again, then tucked it away in his waistcoat pocket. Straightening himself he took several quick steps forward so that he arrived before the entry port looking as though he had just hurried there from a distance. Leaning out once more, he waved towards the Japanese interpreter in the guard-boat.

  ‘It has been decided that your deputy governor may come aboard to parley briefly with one of our junior officers!’ he announced ringingly in Dutch, and stood aside as two ratings summoned by Eden ran forward to fix the gang-ladder in place.

  When the guard-boat had manoeuvred to its foot, the Japanese interpreter ushered the Vice-Governor of Uraga ahead of him onto the ladder. Among a retinue of three bodyguards who stood up in the boat to follow them, Eden spotted the face of the same young samurai who had so deftly caught the scroll which he had tossed back unopened half an hour earlier, and again his eyes locked with those of the disguised Prince Tanaka. Then he noticed that another, taller samurai wearing a similar anonymous brown kimono, was also gazing balefully up at him. The features of Yakamochi, son and heir of Lord Daizo of Haifu, however, were set in more aggressive lines and as the small group of Japanese climbed slowly up towards the entry port, Eden instinctively dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword.

  8

  ‘ANATATACHI WA Amerika-jin desuka?’

  This first question from the Vice-Governor of Uraga was uttered in a hesitant, uncertain tone. Perched on the edge of an upright chair in the oak- panelled captain’s cabin, aft on the main deck, the solemn, round-faced official looked ill at ease inside his flamboyant sea-green silks. While his interpreter, Haniwara Tokuma, who was seated beside him, translated the question haltingly into Dutch, the eyes of the vice-governor flickered nervously back and forth around the cabin, settling only occasionally on Flag Lieutenant Rice, who sat ramrod straight behind a plain polished table on which he had placed his tasselled ceremonial sword secure inside its leather scabbard.

  Samuel Armstrong, seated beside Rice at the same table, was puffing relaxedly on a briar pipe. After listening to the Japanese interpreter’s Dutch translation, he smiled faintly and leaned back in his chair, before repeating it with mock formality in English.

  ‘The deputy governor asks us if we are Americans.’

  Lieutenant Rice nodded formally. ‘You may confirm to the deputy governor that we are.’

  ‘Yes, we are Americans,’ said Armstrong in Dutch, and waited patiently while Haniwara Tokuma conveyed this reply to his uneasy superior in their own language.

  ‘Why have Americans come to Japan?’ asked the vice-governor after a short pause. ‘What is your purpose here?’

  ‘We have come here for one reason only: replied Rice carefully. ‘And that is to deliver a letter of the utmost importance from the President of the United States to the Emperor of Japan.’

  Midshipman Harris and another of the Susquehanna’s fresh-faced cadet officers were standing stiffly to attention behind the flag lieutenant’s chair. Armed with unsheathed cutlasses tucked into their belts, they stared straight ahead and gave no impression that they heard anything of what was being said. To one side of the table Robert Eden had taken up a watchful position, his feet planted astride and his left hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Although listening carefully to the exchanges, he kept his attention focused on the three Japanese samurai who were ranged in a small semicircle behind the chairs of their two official representatives.

  The samurai who had eyed him so intently from the boat, he noticed, was the only one who wore the traditional twin swords in long and short scabbards at his waist. Prince Tanaka was standing motionless, with his hands at his sides between the two other escorts, who appeared to be unarmed. These two men gazed steadily at the cabin floor and only Tanaka’s eyes flicked from face to face around the cabin. Whenever they came to rest on Eden, as they often did, the American officer felt he detected a lively intelligence as well as wary hostility in his expression.

  But as Eden scrutinized the other two escorts, who stood with their hands clasped within the wide sleeves of their kimonos, he noticed that Daizo Yakamochi was holding himself unnaturally taut and bending forward a little from the waist. In that moment Eden became convinced that the man was carrying a concealed weapon in the loose sleeves of his gown.

  ‘Why is it necessary for the President of America to send four armed ships to deliver just one letter?’

  The vice-governor, who had been conferring in whispers with his interpreter, posed this new question in a more assertive tone and, on hearing Armstrong’s translation, Lieutenant Rice raised his eyebrows and motioned with his head to a third midshipman, who was stationed outside the open cabin door, listening intently to the exchanges. The boy, who had obviously been anticipating this signal, immediately dashed away. Leaning close to Armstrong, Rice explained to him in an undertone that Commodore Perry had instructed that all but the most fundamental questions were to be referred to him in his own nearby cabin.

  While awaiti
ng the midshipman’s return, Rice made no move to reveal to the Japanese what was holding up his reply. In the tense silence that settled over the negotiating group, the distant sound of gongs and war drums being beaten on the shore seemed suddenly louder and, as the delay lengthened, the expression of the vice-governor became first puzzled then anxious. After a minute or two he began to shift uneasily on the edge of his seat, looking distractedly at each of the silent American faces in turn. Beside him, Haniwara Tokuma appeared composed and outwardly at ease, but behind them the three standing bodyguards grew noticeably more edgy

  Yet another minute passed, before the rapid tattoo of the midshipman’s heels on the planks of the deck heralded his return. On entering the cabin he hurried directly to the table and saluted, before bending close to the flag lieutenant and speaking quietly in his ear. As he listened, Lieutenant Rice picked up a pen from the table and wrote several lines on a blank sheet of paper. When the midshipman had retreated to the doorway, Rice turned to face the vice-governor again.

  ‘You asked me why it was necessary to send four armed ships here to carry one letter. Our answer is: in order to show proper respect to your Emperor.’

  On absorbing the meaning of this reply, the face of the vice-governor showed new agitation. ‘It is impossible to receive any letter here!’ he said in a troubled voice. ‘By our law, communications from foreign countries can only be accepted at the port of Nagasaki. There is no alternative. You must take your letter there!’

  For a moment or two, Lieutenant Rice studied the notes he had made on the sheet of paper before him. Then he cleared his throat and once more raised his head to look the Japanese official pointedly in the eye.