Tokyo Bay (12 page)

‘JOHN, I’D LIKE TO
volunteer for a secret mission!’ Flag Lieutenant Rice looked up sharply as Robert Eden burst into his cabin a moment after knocking. By the light of a flickering oil-lamp set on his collapsible writing table, Rice was recording in his official log a detailed description of the extraordinary light that had just passed from the heavens; but he stopped writing and raised his eyebrows in surprise on hearing Eden’s urgent request.
‘What sort of secret mission, Robert? And to where?’
‘Ashore
-
here in the bay!’
The flag lieutenant put down his pen and looked severely at the younger officer. Because only thin wooden partitions separated the cramped officers’ cabins on the lower deck, all their occupants were in the habit of keeping their voices low in private conversation, and both men instinctively followed this convention.
‘Why do you think we should take such a grave risk now?’ asked Rice slowly. ‘We’re face to face with a brave and stubborn people w
h
o’ve never been conquered. But we’re not at war yet. It’s still a delicate mission of diplomacy
-
bluff and counter-bluff.’
‘But we don’t know enough to judge whether our bluffing is wise, countered Eden insistently. ‘We haven’t got the least idea of what’s going on out there. Underneath everything, the Japanese who came aboard this afternoon see
m
ed very tense.’ Eden hesitated for a moment then decided to hold nothing back. ‘I disarmed one of the escorts, who had concealed a short sword in his sleeve. He clearly intended to attack you when your back was turned.’
Rice stared at Eden in consternation. ‘What happened?’
‘1 wrestled the weapon away from him without anyone noticing
-
except their senior escort, who looked angry as well as relieved. He snatched up the fallen sword and reprimanded the offender. He seemed very glad I’d intervened.’
Rice let out a low whistle and looked thoughtful, realizing suddenly that his life had been in danger. ‘I agree they seemed very tense. . . but I didn’t spot anything else. Thank you for your vigilance, Robert.’
‘There’s no need to thank me.’ Eden shook his head dismissively, his mind still
f
ixed on the subject he had come to discuss. ‘That’s what I was there for.’
‘Why didn’t you report this earlier?’ asked Rice with a frown.
Eden shrugged. ‘I suppose, as
it
came to nothing, I felt it was unnecessary to say anything at the time. And since then a lot’s been happening.’
The flag lieutenant turned aside to make a brief note in his log. ‘I’ll need you to w
r
ite me a detailed report, Robert,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Let me have it as soon as you can, please.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Eden impatiently. ‘But will you support my proposal for a mission ashore?’
‘You know well enough that our aim is to avoid bloodshed if humanly possible: said Rice, laying aside his pen once more. ‘For that reason none, any undercover operation is out of the question.’
‘But we might find things easier if we were better informed about what we’re up against: exclaimed Eden. ‘What’s their real strength? How many heavy guns do they have? Are they really ready to go to war against us? And what are they hiding behind those strange screens up there? We just don’t know...’
‘You’re right, Robert. We’d like to know the answers to all those questions. It would make this very dangerous job much easier...’ Rice paused and shook his head ruefully. ‘But the situation is already as taut as a piano
-
wire.’
‘Yes
-
and we’re working totally in the dark. So a secret sortie ashore is the only thing that makes sense!’
‘It may make sense to you, but any incident, great or small, could start a major conflict now,’ said Rice, a faint note of exasperation creeping into his voice. ‘The interception of a secret landing party bent on spying might just trigger off what we all want to avoid. And I doubt whether there would be many volunteers for such a dangerous mission.’
‘There wouldn’t be any need for other volunteers,’ said Eden shortly. ‘Our castaway Sentaro has already agreed to go ashore with me. He’s all the help I’d need’
‘Robert, your idea has all the makings of a suicide mission: Rice shook his head emphatically. ‘Your methods behind the lines in Mexico worked brilliantly. But these are very different circumstances. ..‘
Eden drew in an impatient breath. ‘I’d still like to try’
The flag lieutenant stood up and took a pace or two around the small cabin, before facing Eden again with a frown of concern furrowing his brow. ‘Robert, I’m honoured to count myself a close friend. You’re a conspicuously brave man
-
but sometimes you seem to place too little value on your own life. The risks of a mission like this would be overwhelming.’
‘The risks might be high,’ Eden persisted, ‘but the odds are not impossible.’
Rice smiled despite himself, his respect and affection for the man before him showing in the warmth of his expression. ‘You’ve thought this through carefully, I can see. How long did you plan to spend ashore
-
just a few hours and back before dawn?’
‘Two or three hours wouldn’t be enough for a proper survey.’
‘But beyond daybreak,’ said Rice incredulously, ‘the chances of you being detected and captured would be enormous.’
‘The Japanese interpreter said at least three days would be needed to obtain a full answer to our demands: said Eden evenly. ‘All that time we’ll just be kicking our heels. So a longer reconnaissance might be possible. I was ashore f
o
ur days with the raiding party in Mexico.’
‘But that was a carefully planned intrusion;
it
was all-out warfare. This is a solo spying mission in an unknown, unpredictable land where the odds of your surviving would be negligible.’
‘That would make the element of surprise even greater,’ countered Eden calmly. ‘Nobody would be expecting it. . . and I’m confident I can do a useful job.’
‘I don’t understand what drives you, Robert.’ Rice shook his head again in a gesture of disbelief. ‘I’ve often wondered if you would be so careless of your own well-being if Mary hadn’t died in that storm.’
Eden stared stonily ahead and said nothing; the muscles of his jaw tightened but he offered no reply. In the sudden silence that had fallen ‘between them the deep, disturbing note of the coastal war gong became audible again, reverberating above the renewed swell of chanting from the temples. Both men listened for a moment, then Eden took a decisive step towards the cabin door.
‘Will you please pass my proposal up to Commodore Perry,’ he asked pointedly. ‘This is a formal request.’
Rice gazed back at him for a moment in silence, then shook his head with an air of finality. ‘No, Robert, I won’t let this go any further. You’ll just have to curb your impatience, and play the waiting game along with the rest of us.’
‘Is that your last word?’
Rice’s stern expression softened and he smiled faintly. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it is. But I’m also asking myself whether I ought to place you and our castaway under close arrest for a couple of days
-
clap you in irons just to make sure you don’t do anything rash.’
‘And will you?’ asked Eden in a challenging voice.
‘No, Robert. You know that
’
s not my style.’
Wanting suddenly to be gone, Eden saluted smartly and strode from the cabin. Hurrying through the wardroom, he entered his own smaller quarters, closed the door firmly behind him and took off his sword. As he lit an oil-lamp and glanced around the tiny cabin that was furnished with a bunk, washstand, water-basin and jug, he became aware again of the throb of noise from the shore. Taking out his journal, he picked up a pen, sat down and began to write impatiently.
Through the scuttle, the glow from the beacon fires was faintly visible and, as he wrote, he heard the chanting and the deep tolling of the war gong more clearly. He tried to ignore the noise but after a few minutes the cramped cabin which he knew so well seemed unbearably confining to all his senses. The instinct deep within him which yearned always for action had led him to suggest the secret sortie ashore
-
but now, in the wake of Rice’s rejection of his proposal, that instinct seemed to clamour more insistently for recognition. The inner excitement inspired by his first glimpse of Mount Fuji and the recent strange light in the sky had also heightened his natural impatience and suddenly the prospect of many more long days of cat-and-mouse negotiations with impassive Japanese officials became unendurable. In that moment he finally made up his mind what he would do and to confirm his resolution he closed his journal with a snap and stood up.
Scooping up his holstered Colt pistol and some ammunition from a drawer in his sea chest, he buckled the weapon around his waist. Into his pockets he stuffed a small compass, his sma
l
l opera-glasses, a knife, a notepad and some pencils. After carefully extinguishing the lamp, he hurried out to the port ladders and climbed swiftly to the upper deck.
By a weapons rack he paused long enough to select a good cutlass, then keeping
to
the shadows of the bulkheads he made his way to the hatch which led to the storage space under the fo’c’s’le. Ducking inside, he found Sentaro squatting cross-legged on a big coil of rope in the dusty darkness. He was sewing by the light of a single candle stub and he looked up at Eden and grinned eagerly in welcome.
‘Everything okay, master?’
‘Yes, everything’s fine: replied Eden in an urgent whisper. ‘I’m ready to go
-
now!’
‘Now, master?’ echoed Sentaro in astonishment.
‘Yes, now. Are you sure you still want to come with me?’
The castaway nodded slowly, his face serious. ‘I promised you, master. If you go ashore, Sentaro goes too...’
‘Good!’ Eden threw off his cap, laid aside the cutlass and pistol and removed his frock coat, cravat, vest and shoes. ‘Prepare yourself then, Sentaro. And be quick.’
The castaway hurriedly finished stitching a second large oilskin pouch to a leather belt. He already wore a similar belt and pouch around his own waist, into which he had stuffed clothing and some of his own meagre personal belongings. Seeing this, Eden nodded approvingly.
You’ve done well, Sentaro. Have you found some clothes for me?’
‘I have these old ones, master. Maybe not a good fit, but okay I think.’
The castaway held up a faded, -wide--sleeved peasant’s shirt of blue calico, a ragged pair of baggy cotton trousers of the same colour, and some recently plaited straw sandals. Folding the clothes deftly, he tucked them into the oilcloth pouch on the spare belt, and tied it quickly around Eden’s waist. He watched Eden add his pistol, the ammunition, compass, binoculars and other possessions to the sturdy pouch, then wrap the cutlass in a piece of discarded sailcloth and tie it across his back with a strong cord.
‘When we get ashore, master, you can wear this Sentaro picked up a cone
-
shaped hat of woven sedge from amongst the dusty ropes and sails, and slung
it
around his own shoulders. ‘Then nobody will see your face.’
‘Excellent!’
Eden folded his uniform clothes, placed his cap on top of them and pushed them out of sight beneath a heap of torn sails. Then he stood up, barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only his narrow white drill pantaloons. His eyes were bright with anticipation and he patted Sentaro encouragingly on the shoulder.
‘If you’re ready, we’ll go now! Follow me closely. We’ll make for the starboard ladders. It’s vital we get off the ship without being seen.’
He looked out of the hatch to ensure there was no movement on the darkened upper deck. When satisfied it was safe, he beckoned Sentaro to follow and led the way through the hatch, moving swiftly in a running crouch. Hugging the deep shadows of the six-foot bulkheads, they moved warily towards the nearest starboard ladder, taking care not to attract the attention of the overhead lookouts. Two marine sentries had been set to guard the nearest entry and exit port, and from the cover of a ventilation funnel Eden watched them patrolling back and forth with their carbines on their shoulders. Waiting for a moment when both marines had their backs turned and the men on watch aloft were gazing shoreward, Eden tugged suddenly at Sentaro’s arm and ran swiftly to the open top of the ladder
-
way. Swarming hand over hand down the iron rungs, they entered the water within seconds. For as long as they were able, they swam underwater to avoid detection from the
Susquehanna,
and when at last they surfaced they stayed on the lee side of the ships, swimming slowly and silently through the darkness, heading south in a broad arc designed to take them ashore a mile or two beyond the most southerly fire beacons.