Tokyo Bay (10 page)

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Authors: Anthony Grey

Tags: #Politics and government, #United States Naval Expedition to Japan; 1852-1854, #Historical, #Tokyo Bay (Japan), #(1852-1854), #1600-1868, #Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), #Fiction, #Historical fiction, #English fiction, #Japan, #United States Naval Expedition to Japan, #Historical & Mythological Fiction

BOOK: Tokyo Bay
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10

‘WHAT’S GOING ON
out there, Sentaro?’
Coming up behind the castaway, who was peering anxiously out through an open gunport on the upper deck, Robert Eden patted him affectionately on the shoulder. In the darkness that cloaked the shore, a chain of great beacon fires flamed on the c
l
iff
tops. Other fires were burning all along the beaches, and the sound of religious chanting rose intermittently on the still air. A single, deep
-
toned gong sent out an ominous note of warning at long intervals, and in the f
l
ickering light from the fires Eden could see that the face of the Japanese castaway was stiff with tension.
‘My countrymen seem very frightened, master,’ he said, speaking English in a hoarse whisper. ‘Many beacon fires all send out the same message.’
‘What do they say?’
Sentaro hesitated for a moment, and when he looked up at Eden his eyes were wide with alarm. ‘Sorry, master, but they are saying: “Arm to expel the foreign barbarians!”
‘Do you think they really will attack us?’
‘I don’t know’ The castaway sh
o
ok his head several times to express his confusion.
M
any of your brother officers also ask me this
question
. Perhaps.
maybe... I don’t know!’
The calm, black waters of the bay reflected the orange beacon fires like a mirror. Close to the beach the crews of the guard-boats were still watching the American warships from a distanc
e
... and paper lanterns strung on their sterns provided a gentler chain of illumination. In the deep stillness... of the night a new surge of impassioned chanting c
a
rried clearly to the ears of those who were
awake
and listening on the American ships.
‘At temples and shrines, many people are pleading with our
kami
to drive away “th
e
black ships of the foreign barbarians”; continued S
e
ntaro after listening carefully to the chorus of voice coming from the shore. ‘I think nobody is
sleeping
tonight.’
Eden drew a deep breath and 1anced up into the rigging of the
Susquehanna.
The
s
hadowy silhouettes of many additional lookouts wer
e
visible aloft, clinging amongst the spars and
shrouds
, and all were straining their eyes and ears to
w
ards the shore. A wisp of smoke curling upward amongst the furled sails and the quiet throb of mac
hinery
from below decks confirmed that the engine were being maintained in a state of readiness for
action
.
As soon as the Japanese
negotiating
party had left the flagship, Commodore Perry
h
ad issued orders for all watches to be doubled, and
f
or
extra sentries to
be posted fore and aft. During his own evening tours of inspection Eden had checked that sufficient heaps of roundshot and grape were piled beside each of his guns and that muskets were neatly stacked in the open on the nearby decks.
Other
watch officers had ordered regular inspections to be made to ensure that there was plenty of coal in the bunkers around the engines, and that enough steam was maintained in the boilers to meet any emergency. All the flagship’s cutters had been readied f
o
r launching, each craft loaded with carbines, pistols, .cutlasses and signal lights. As the darkness deepened, Eden had repeatedly reminded all his lookouts to keep their eyes peeled for burning junks which might be let loose among the warships in an effort to fire and destroy them.
A few minutes earlier, eight
strok
es of the flagship’s bell had marked the midnight ho
u
r and the termination of another of Eden’s tense four-hour spells of duty as second officer of the watch. On descending the port ladder from the quarterdeck he had spotted Sentaro hunched in the shadows of the gunport, peering towards the flame
-
lit shore. During his earlier rounds, remembering that he had banished the castaway from the decks long before sunset, he had looked in briefly at Sentaro
.
Th
e
makeshift berth among the ropes and sails
beneath
the fo’c’s’le. He had told him then it was safe
to
get some air on deck under the cover of darkness, so long as he kept himself out of sight and returned quickly to his hiding place if any emergency arose.
‘Do you think you’ll sleep now, Sentaro?’ asked Eden, patting his shoulder again:. ‘Or will you spend the rest of the night praying that your
kami
will drive our ships away
-
and you along with them?’
‘I have two minds, master,’ whispered the castaway, straightening up to stand beside Eden. With a quick movement of his right hand he touched first the centre of his forehead, then his chest. ‘Part of me wants to stay in Nippon
-
but part of me wants to return to America
‘Which part of you wants to stay?’ asked Eden quietly.
The face of the Japanese became serious and he again laid the palm of his hand on the centre of his chest. ‘My heart is foolish, master. It wants to beat again in the land of its birth. It wants also to see my son and daughter, and my wife. I haven’t seen them for four years.’ He smiled sadly, revealing several broken teeth. Then he touched his forehead with one grimy finger. ‘But my head is wiser. It tells me I should leave. It knows I will be killed if I go ashore
-
and then my heart will beat no more!’
Eden looked at him thoughtfully, then turned away towards the blazing beacons of the cliff
tops. ‘How far is your home village from here, Sentaro?’
‘Ten miles from Uraga, on the western shore of the bay, master.’ He pointed southward with one arm. ‘It is called Yurutaki.’
‘And how old are your son and daughter?’
‘Taro will be nine years old n
o
w,’ he replied wistfully. ‘His sister Haru is five. .
‘Then perhaps you should please both your heart and your head.’
The castaway stared mystified at the American officer. ‘How could I do that, master?’
‘Are you a good swimmer?’
Sentaro nodded. ‘Yes, master, I swim very well!’
‘Then you could slip over the
side
and swim ashore in the dark. You could find a h
o
rse and make your way to your home village without anybody knowing. You would at least see your wife and children
-
but if you find you’re still afraid, you could return secretly to the ship in the same way. And I’d keep my promise to help you return to America.’
Sentaro gasped. ‘But, master,
t
go ashore secretly would be very dangerous. In eve
r
y town and village there are police spies. I would be very frightened!’
Eden had been staring at the blazing beacons, but now he turned to look at the castaway again, his eyes suddenly gleaming with their own inner brightness. ‘Would you be so frightened if I came with you?’
‘Come with me, master?’ Se
n
taro’s eyes widened in amazement. ‘Why should you want to come with me?’
‘To try to find out what’s really happening behind those fires!’ Eden spoke his words with a quiet vehemence. ‘We know nothing
o
f your land and its people. Yet at any moment we could make a false move and start a terrible war. If I came ashore with you, I could bring back more reliable information!’
‘Has somebody given orders for you to do this?’ asked the Japanese in an awed whisper. ‘Your high chief, perhaps? Has he ordered you to go ashore
-
like you did in Mexico?’
Eden glanced round to ensure nobody was within earshot, then he shook his head and lowered his voice. ‘Nobody has ordered me
to
do this, Sentaro. But we shouldn’t always wait for others to give us instructions. Sometimes we must dare to give them to ourselves!’
‘I’m too afraid, master.’ The castaway swallowed hard, his expression apologetic. ‘I’m too afraid to do this.’
Eden stared at him, frowning; then his face cleared. ‘You’re wise to be afraid, Sentaro. it’s right for you to stay on board.’
‘And you, master, what will you do?’ asked the Japanese uneasily.
Eden hesitated for a second, then squared his shoulders with sudden resolution. ‘I’ll go ashore alone. I’ll go and find out what’s really happening.’
‘No!’ The castaway let out a stifled exclamation of alarm. ‘It’s impossible for you to go alone. No foreign barbarians have been allowed to set foot in Nippon for over two hundred years. You’d be executed as a spy
-
or become a prisoner!’
Eden looked round and smiled faintly. ‘No, I won’t. You’ve helped me learn a little of your
language
, Sentaro. I’ll disguise myself caref
ul
ly. I’ll be able to watch and listen. I might even try to find your home village and tell your family you’re alive and well:
The Japanese again peered out through the open gunport. The beacon fires were blazing higher, and the silhouetted figures of armed men were visible, moving against the flames. In the darkness the deep- toned warning gong continued to sound, and when he looked round at Eden again the uncertainty in his face was plainly visible.
‘I am afraid, master: he said in an unsteady voice. ‘But if you go ashore, I must come with you. You would not survive there without me.’
Eden considered the castaway’s offer in silence, then nodded decisively. ‘All right, Sentaro, if you’re truly sure you want to take the risk. You would be able to help me a great deal.’
‘Thank you, master!’ The face of the Japanese was lit for an instant by a passing smile. Then he glanced uneasily towards the shore once more. ‘When do we go, master?’
‘We must go as soon as possible, perhaps just before dawn
-
but we must make our preparations carefully.’
‘What will we need, master?’
Eden thought quickly.
‘Some
oilskin waist
pouches. . . Go back to your quarters and make two pouches. Sew them onto belts. They will keep our things dry I’ll take a pistol and ammunition, a knife, a good compass and my small binoculars. So make the pouches big!’
‘And some food, master?’ enquired the castaway eagerly.
Eden shook his head. ‘No, I’ll take some of the Chinese silver coins I picked up in Hong Kong. You can buy food for us with them... But I’ll need some of your old clothes for disguise
-
especially the big Japanese straw hat you made in California. It will hide my face.’
‘All right, master!’
‘And I’ll come to your berth again later to talk some more.’
‘Very good, master.’ The castaway began to turn away. ‘I go there now.’
‘Wait,’ said Eden. ‘One question. Today I heard some Japanese words I didn’t understand. A man said, in my hearing,
“Taihen on ni na
ru
‘That means “I am greatly in your debt” said Sentaro quickly. ‘Those are words intended very sincerely. Who used them?’
‘They were spoken by an escort of the Japanese envoy who came aboard. And he ended with other words I didn’t recognize... something like
“Sumo
ma
san.”
The castaway screwed up his face in concentration. ‘Could it perhaps have been one word, master
-
“Sumimasen”?’
Eden hesitated, then nodded. ‘Possibly. What does that mean?’
“Sumimasen”
is a special way of saying “thank you”.’ The castaway wrinkled his forehead as he searched for the right English equivalent. ‘But for something you really did not expect to get. It’s an apology; too, for causing trouble.’
‘Thank you.’ Eden’s expression brightened as comprehension dawned. Then he nodded, repeating the words quietly to himse
l
f
‘Sumimasen.
Sumimasen.
. . Yes, I think that was
it.’
‘Glad to find you keeping up your language studies under these trying circumstances, Lieutenant!’ The jocular voice of Samuel Armstrong cut across Eden’s thoughts as the missionary interpreter approached silently out of the darkness.
‘Sumi
m
asen,
if you’d like some scholarly elaboration, is one of half a dozen shades of Japanese apology; As befits a nation so obsessed with form and formality; each version is separate and quite precise.
Sumim
a
sen
has an interesting literal interpretation. It means something like:
“The obligation will never end.”
Eden looked searchingly at the China missionary; wondering if any other part of his conversation with, Sentaro had been overheard. But Armstrong, smiling and wreathed in smoke, was puffing relaxedly on his pipe and he gave no indication of having heard anything disturbing.

Mr.
Armstrong speaks my language well,’ said Sentaro, bowing formally to the newcomer. ‘But excuse me, master. I will go how.’
After bowing once more to Eden, the Japanese hurried off in the direction of the fo’c’s’le, and the missionary-interpreter positioned himself carefully beside the cannon so that he could look out along its barrel towards the shore.
‘Our castaway’s wrong of course said Armstrong softly, as he studied the glowing beacons ranged along the cliffs. ‘I don’t speak Japanese nearly well enough. What little I know, I learned like you, Lieutenant, from a few shipwrecked sailors. My lot got washed up in Hong Kong and Canton. I’ve been able to add a little scholarly gloss by talking with some of those intrepid Dutch traders who occasionally pass through southern China on their way to and from Nagasaki.’ The missionary straightened his back and looked round admiringly at Robert Eden. ‘You’ve done very well in the short time available to you. Your Japanese is as good as mine

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