Tokyo Bay (26 page)

THE BIG CAPSTAN
on the upper deck of the
Susquehanna
was draped with the red, white and blue United States flag. Lying open on this canopy of stars and stripes was the oversized ship’s Bible, leather
-
bound and gilded at its edges. Under the misty white haze of Sunday morning which cloaked Yedo Bay, the colours of the American flag seemed to glow with an added vibrancy in the eyes of the three hundred seamen and marines drawn up in orderly ranks below the flagship’s quarterdeck for a formal service of Christian worship.
The silver and brass instruments of the squadron’s band glowed dully too in the filtered light of the morning sun, as the bandsmen launched into the stirring strains of a hymn. Above the assembled crew and blue-jacketed marine units on the quarterdeck, the squadron’s officers led by the towering figure of Commodore Matthew Ca
l
braith Perry were arrayed for the occasion in the splendour of their gold- splashed fill-dress uniforms. Staring haughtily ahead, and ignoring the visible Japanese fighting units that were being marshalled and deployed in ever-growing numbers on the c
l
iff
s
and beach
e
s around Uraga, the commodore added his own deep
b
arit
o
ne to the lusty rendering of the hymn. The so
lem
n Christian chant rolled sonorously across the
calm
waters of the bay, blotting out momentarily the agitated tolling of temple bells and war gongs. Eve
n
the sudden boom of a distant shore cannon echo
in
g among the hills did not disturb the flow of the shipboard service, and the three hundred and m
o
re voices sang on unperturbed.

‘Before
Jehovah’s
awful
throne
Ye nations bow with sacred
jo
y,
Know that the Lord is God alone
He can create, He can destroy
.

Samuel Armstrong, who was s at the rear of the group of officers, turned us head from his hymnal as he sang, and saw a col
umn
of dark smoke rising above a headland half a
mile
higher up the bay. The purpose of the distant ca
nnon
shot remained obscure but because it present
e
d no immediate danger he turned his attention
discr
eetly to the nearer cliffs, where he could see long files
o
f straining figures hauling additional guns into p
lace
in the open embrasures of the forts. Other fighti
ng
groups armed with shields and lances were bei
ng
marched to new guard positions among the fortif
ic
at
i
o
n
s, and some beacon fires which had burned
throughout
another
long night were still blazing in the mist which obscured the hills and mountains beyond the cliffs.
‘I think a lot of new guns are being trained on the squadron from south of Uraga, Lieutenant: said Armstrong, speaking in an undertone to John Rice who was standing stiffly at his side, hymnal in hand. ‘There’s more activity than before around the forts
The flag lieutenant did not pause in his hymn- singing; he had been responsible earlier for making it known throughout the ship that the commodore wished the weekly Christian ritual to be seen onshore as a forceful display of A
m
erican power and confidence. Hymns considered to have a particular potency for the occasion had been chosen, and all ranks had been instructed to take special care with their dress uniforms and their deportment. Lieutenant Rice’s demeanour, therefore, like that of all his brother officers, bristled with the determination to carry this task through. As he continued his spirited singing of the hymn, the lieutenant glanced briefly towards the c
l
iff
top Armstrong had indicated; but his gaze did not linger and he volunteered no comment before returning his fl.ill attention to the last verse.
As its final notes died away and the squadron chaplain stepped up to the flag-covered capstan to read the lesson of the day, Armstrong glanced towards Matthew Perry and noticed that the commodore’s bearing, from which all his subordinates were consciously or subconsciously taking their lead, had become straighter and more
determined
than ever.
Beneath his tasselled cocked hat, thick hair bushed out strikingly around his broad face; his expression was both fierce and composed, and his leonine head and bull neck jutted aggressively above shoulders made broader and more imposing by his gilded commodore’s epaulettes. A double row of gold buttons sparkled on the dark blue cloth of his coat and the continuous, mountain-like swell of his chest, which merged with the muscular paunch beneath it, gave his figure a powerful, oak-like solidity In the manner of Napoleon, he held his right hand across his chest, tucking its thumb between the coat buttons, thereby signifying silently to the world at large that he was a man of force and unshakable convictions.
‘We shall now ask our Heavenly Father for the strength to carry through our mission successfully in these waters,’ intoned the chaplain, after finishing his reading of the lesson. ‘And Commodore Perry; our squadron commander, will first lead us briefly with his own supplication.’
Armstrong watched Matthew Perry close his eyes and incline his head a fraction, standing motionless before the quarterdeck rail. Even in prayer his massive bulk continued to exert its powerful influence, and Armstrong saw a number of seamen and marines on the deck below lift their heads surreptitiously to catch a glimpse of his awesome figure in a rare moment of repose, before he spoke.
‘We pray God said the commodore in a slow, booming voice that carried easily throughout the ship, ‘that our present attempt to bring a singular and isolated people into the family of civilized nations may succeed without resort to bloodshed. And we ask His blessing also on all our thoughts and deeds at this time of difficulty and danger.. . Amen!’
A hearty roar of ‘Amen!’ rose loudly from the upper deck in response, before the men settled themselves again to follow a longer prayer read by the chaplain; but as he spoke, many raised their heads briefly to snatch a further glimpse of their imposing commander-in-chief in his finest array.
Among the listening crewmen, the deeds and achievements of Perry’s extraordinary career were already 1egendary At the age of fourteen he had been the youngest midshipman ever commissioned into the American Navy; in the War of 1812 he had fought gallantly as a young officer; and in the more recent Mexican war he had, with resounding success, commanded the largest American fleet ever sent to sea. He had personally supervised the building of the American Navy’s first ocean
-
going steamers, the
Mississippi
and the
Missouri,
and confounded sceptics who predicted that they would be lost in their first ocean storms
-
by triumphantly circumnavigating the globe in the
Mississippi.
For those deeds he had become widely celebrated as ‘the father of the American steam navy’ which had added a unique dimension to his growing stature.
Having seen vast tracts of Asia fall under the domination of Europe’s imperial powers during his lifetime, however, it had become the crowning ambition of his career to place American power on at least an equal footing with the Europeans throughout the Orient. To expand American trade, he had proposed that a chain of coaling ports and naval bases should be established across the Far East. His detailed proposals had been received with such enthusiasm in Washington that he had effectively written his own orders for the mission to open up an enigmatic and mysterious Japan that had deliberately secluded itself from the predatory outside world for two centuries
-
and these orders, at his own insistence, specifically allowed him to use force of arms if he judged
it
necessary
All these diverse strands of his life, Samuel Armstrong reflected, were inherently visible in the pugnacious Sunday-morning stance of the commodore on the misty quarterdeck of his own flagship. His commitment to his own personal goal, which he had astutely turned into a national crusade, was total; more importantly
it
was backed by a powerful modern naval squadron spread threateningly across the bay, which he could deploy however he wished.
No matter what happens now,
his silent bulk seemed to declare,
American pride, and
i
f necessar
y
American force of arms will prevail.
As he continued to gaze at the imperious figure of the commodore, Armstrong realized too, with a sudden rush of clarity why the youthful figure of Robert Eden was no longer standing among the group of dutiful, straight-backed officers flanking their commander on the quarterdeck. Eden’s birth, his mixed blood, his fierce sense of justice and his instinctive sympathy for a proud people overpowered in their own land by more forceful, better-armed strangers, had made it impossible for him to continue standing unthinkingly shoulder-to-shoulder with the men around him. Only such fierce idealism, given a reckless edge by his own private agonies, could have forced him to dive off the side of the ship in the darkness of Friday night and strike out heedlessly for the shore. The mental turmoil he faced in the moments leading up to that rash decision would doubtless have been painful and, understanding all this fully for the first time, the veteran missionary was no longer surprised. In his own heart, where fading embers of his youthful Christian zeal still glowed faintly, Samuel Armstrong suddenly felt something approaching envy for the young officer’s courage and singleness of mind.
‘Perhaps it’s a pity no Japanese have yet caught sight of our distinguished commander-in-chief,’ he murmured at last, leaning close
to
Lieutenant Rice as the prayer ended. ‘If they had seen the jut of his jaw and the glint in his eye, they would surely never have considered resisting delivery of the President’s letter.’
The band was launching itself boisterously into the opening bars of another hymn, and again Lieutenant Rice did not immediately reply. Armstrong noticed that his expression was abstracted, and he was looking past him towards the shore. Turning to follow the direction of the officer’s gaze, he saw that a Japanese longboat covered with a striped canopy was heading purposefully out of the harbour towards the
Susquehanna.
Rowed swiftly by standing oarsmen,
it
appeared to be carrying a number of silk-gowned officials.
‘The commodore has no intention of changing his policy for the time being,’ said Rice shortly. ‘He will continue to hold himself aloof from all contact with the Japanese?
‘And what are we to tell the officials who seem to be heading towards us now?’ asked Armstrong, watching the canopied boat drawing nearer. ‘Am I to talk with them?’
‘The commodore has expressly ordered that, out of reverence for the Lord’s Day, there be no communication whatsoever with the Japanese authorities until tomorrow;’ said Rice quietly. ‘No visitors are to be received on any of our four ships. You may go and tell them that
-
and make it clear they are refused permission to board for the rest of the day.’
Hurrying from the quarterdeck, as the voices of the three hundred seamen and officers bellowed out the verses of another hymn, Armstrong climbed half.vay down the port gangway, and waited for the official Japanese boat to come alongside. Four officials wearing black-lacquered caps and embroidered gowns of silk were seated gravely beneath the canopy, flapping their fans slowly before them. But none of their faces was familiar to Armstrong, except that of the scholarly looking interpreter, Haniwara Tokuma, who rose and hurried towards the bows of the boat when he saw Armstrong hold up a hand indicating they were not welcome.
‘Why have you come today, Haniwara-san?’ called Armstrong in Dutch. ‘What is the purpose of your visit?’
‘My superiors wish to come aboard to discover how your admiral intends to deploy his warships in the coming hours,’ replied the interpreter. ‘In particular they wish to know whether he intends to continue the dangerous practice of sending out armed survey boats.’
One of the oarsmen tossed a rope to Armstrong, who looped it once around a rail of the gangway to make it clear that the craft would be secured there only temporarily. Then he stood up straight and addressed its occupants in a formal tone: ‘I am instructed to advise you that no visitors will be allowed to board any ship of the American Navy here today. No communication of any kind will be received by our admiral until tomorrow morning.’
‘What are the reasons for that?’ demanded Haniwara, clearly puzzled.
‘Each week we set this whole day aside for the worship of our God. As you can perhaps see and hear, a service of worship is taking place at this very moment on our upper deck.’
The interpreter explained this answer to the seated officials then turned to face Armstrong again, his expression grave. ‘My superiors say that they have come to warn your admiral. They say fighting will certainly break out if your survey boats approach too close to our shore.’
‘I can only repeat,’ said Armstrong slowly, ‘that our admiral wishes to have no communication with your superiors on this important day of worship.’
Haniwara looked at Armstrong steadily. ‘My superiors are very disappointed with this response. They wished to receive assurances about your activities.’
‘I am unable to go beyond my strict instructions that there should be no communication with you today,’ said Armstrong, allowing a note of apology to show in his voice. ‘But for myself I would like to enquire whether you have yet received any reply from Yedo about the delivery of our President’s letter to a high official of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor?’
‘There has been no reply yet,’ said the interpreter, beginning to turn away. ‘There has not been enough
‘Wait!’ called Armstrong in an urgent voice. ‘
I
would like to raise one further question.’
‘What is that?’ enquired the interpreter curtly.
‘Whether you have any news of our missing officer?’ Armstrong bent nearer, keeping his voice low, to prevent others on the ship above overhearing his words. ‘Has he been found yet?’
Ha
ni
wara Tokuma moved back to the gangway again, and eyed Armstrong searchingly for a moment; then he too lowered his voice. ‘It is very unfortunate. Your officer was discovered spying on fortifications above Uraga. There was fighting and some bloodshed.’
‘Was he killed?’ demanded Armstrong anxiously.
‘No, he managed to escape: said the interpreter stonily. ‘Later he was discovered further inland. Again there was fighting, but again he was not recaptured..
Armstrong took a deep breath. ‘And what’s happe
ni
ng now?’
‘He is still being pursued,’ said Haniwara sharply. ‘He is being hunted by many fighting men. It is impossible to say what the consequences may be.’
In a reflex action Armstrong raised his eyes and looked towards the shore. But, above the c
l
iff
s
, the landscape was still shrouded in an impenetrable white mist that obscured all the distant hills and mountains beyond.
‘Thank you, Haniwara-san,’ said Armstrong quietly, unwinding the rope from the gangway and casting the boat off. ‘Thank you very much for that information
The interpreter, his face a mask of inexpression, bowed perfunctorily before returning to his seat beside the four officials and Armstrong watched the near
-
naked Japanese oarsmen send their boat scudding back towards the shore with powerful, rhythmic strokes. Above his head he hea