Tokyo Bay (34 page)

it
can be passed to the delegation as soon as they arrive.’
The missionary quickly scanned the short letter bearing Perry’s signature. It appeared to do no more than restate formally that, as commander-in-chief of the US Navy’s East India Squadron, he wished to meet one of the highest officials of the Empire of Japan as soon as possible, so as to present an urgent co
m
munication from the President of the United States. It added that he wished to hand over at the same time his own personal letter of credence. Armstrong read it quickly again, then glanced que
s
tioningly at Rice.
‘This doesn’t seem to add anything very much to our position, Lieutenant. What’s the purpose behind it?’
‘We’ve had very little contact with the Japanese for three days,’ replied Rice, laying aside his pen and looking up significantly at the missionary ‘I think its primary aim is to re-emphasize the commodore’s determination to stand firmly by his original demands until he gains satisfaction
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here in the Bay of Yedo. I’ve also been asked to say that it’s most important that you translate every word with those sentiments firmly in mind.’
Noticing from the officer’s tone that he was passing on formal instructions that brooked no argument, Armstrong accepted them expressionlessly and without comment. ‘Do I assume,’ he asked quietly, ‘that today’s meetings are to be conducted in the same manner as before?’
‘Yes. Commodore Perry will again supervise the negotiations invisibly, from the seclusion of his own cabin. But he anticipates the Japanese may try to employ new delaying tactics
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or play for time in some way. He thinks they may even try to refer us to Nagasaki again. He will, of course, resist all such stratagems. And once more you are asked to assist by ensuring that every inflection of your translating shows our stand to be firm and unshakable. I trust that’s clear?’
‘It’s perfectly clear, Lieutenant: said Armstrong, inclining his head in acknowledgement. ‘I’ll go now and prepare the translation in my cabin.’ The missionary turned away towards the door, then stopped, tugging thoughtfully at his whiskers. ‘Lieutenant, may I ask if the subject of Robert Eden has been mentioned recently by the commodore?’
Rice shook his head. ‘No,
Mr.
Armstrong, there’s been no recent discussion at all about Lieutenant Eden in my presence. Is there any particular reason why you ask?’
‘None,’ said the missionary with a shrug. ‘Except he’s been missing now for three days. His absence has been noticed by some of the crew, and rumours are doing the rounds. I wondered if we might ask the Japanese when they come aboard today, if there’s any official news of him.’
The flag lieutenant shook his he2d decisively. ‘The commodore’s orders are very clear for today’s meetings: the negotiations are not to be jeopardized by the introduction of any extraneous topic whatsoever.’
‘Has the commodore offered n
o
comment on the private information I passed to you on Sunday morning?’ asked Armstrong in a slightly offended tone. ‘Is it of no interest at all that Lieutenant Eden was spotted above Uraga, and was pursued inland after some skirmish?’
‘Nothing whatsoever has been said: answered Rice doggedly.
‘But why?’ demanded Armstrong with some heat. ‘Why is everybody seemingly indifferent to Eden’s fate?’
‘The subject is extremely delicate,
Mr.
Armstrong, as you must know. And the information you gave was quite informal. Perhaps that has something to do
with
it...’
Armstrong made as though to reply, then seemed to change his mind. Standing in the doorway he lifted his head to listen to the echoing crash of hammers that was still audible amidst the background clamour of gongs and drums.
‘The war drums seem to be getting louder again:
murmured the missionary. ‘And more persistent.’
Lieutenant Rice listened for a
m
oment, then rose from behind his chart table, his expression suddenly more conciliatory. ‘For all practical purposes, Robert Eden and the Japanese castaway remain listed as “missing overboard”. If they returned to the ship they would be placed under close arrest for disobeying orders. In the absence of any o
ff
icial word about them, perhaps the only way we can deal with the matter is to ignore
it.’
He paused, looking searchingly at the missionary. ‘Have you learned anything further from the Japanese interpreter?’
Armstrong sighed and shook his head. ‘No, nothing. I did try to talk to
Mr.
Haniwara yesterday, although they were only on board a few minutes. But he behaved very strangely. On Sunday morning he had listened carefully to what I had to say about Eden, and gave me the information I passed to you. This time he ignored my questions and stared through me as if I didn’t exist. His manner was most uneasy. . . It made me feel he was hiding something.’
A flicker of alarm appeared in the flag lieutenant’s expression but, before he could answer, footsteps were heard clattering quickly down a nearby ladder and a moment later Midshipman Harris appeared and saluted as he came smartly to attention.
‘Excuse me, sir: he broke in e
x
citedly, addressing Rice. ‘The Japanese delegation is a
r
riving! Their boat is approaching the port gangway.’
‘Thank you,
Mr.
Harris: said Rice crisply. ‘Return to the upper deck and conduct
the
visitors to the captain’s cabin, as before. We’ll follow you.’
As the cadet officer hurried off to comply, Rice smiled and buckled on his ceremonial sword, gesturing for the missionary to precede him. ‘Just as we expected,
Mr.
Armstrong, the response has come quickly. I think you’ll agree this proves that the commodore’s strategy is working well.’
‘Before offering my own congratulations I’ll wait until the exact nature of the Japanese response is known,’ replied the civilian, moving quickly out of the cabin. ‘And I’ll be surprised if matters proceed quite as simply as you hope.’

THE GOVERNOR OF
Uraga stirred the air before his face with gentle movements of a bamboo-and- paper fan, and bowed his head formally towards Flag Lieutenant Rice to indicate he had finished speaking. Beneath his shiny, black-lacquered bonnet the governor’s features remained impassive and he stared unseeingly ahead as Haniwara Tokuma, who was seated beside him, began to translate his words diffidently into the Dutch language. Dressed as before in a robe of green silk emblazoned with an embroidered peacock, the governor was supported by the same retinue of silk
-
clad civilian officials who had accompanied him previously. Their faces were devoid of all expression too, but their dark eyes were watchful and wary as they perched uncomfortably on the unfamiliar upright chairs around him, waiting for the translation to be made.
A few feet away across the captain’s cabin Samuel Armstrong was concentrating hard, his head bent over a sheaf of writing paper. He was again seated at the end of the flag lieutenant’s ta
b
le, flanked by the same four watchful marine guards, Midshipman Harris and two other young trainee officers, who were armed as before with cutlasses. Armstrong had taken some notes while the governor was speaking, and now he added further caref
u
l jottings as he listened intently to the translation into Dutch. In each interval of silence the unceasing throb of drums and gongs from the shore became more audible, and some trace of tension was visible in every face in the cabin as all waited for the missionary to complete his notes.
‘The governor’s speech was couched in complicated official language that was sometimes difficult to untangle,’ said Armstrong at last, leaning confidentially towards Rice with a faint frown of exasperation. ‘In a long and roundabout way he said that his superiors are prepared in principle to accept the letter from our President
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but they’re trying to hedge the acceptance around with a lot of conditions and provisos.’
‘What are those conditions?’ asked Rice brusquely. ‘Do they spell them out?’
‘Yes, they do,’ said Armstrong, consulting his notes. ‘They say first of all that while the letter can be received here, a reply could only be given later through Dutch or Chinese intermediaries at Nagasaki. They’re also resisting the commodore’s wish to hand over a duplicate of the letter in advance of his own formal presentation of the original.’
‘Do they explain why?’ asked Rice with a frown.
‘No, not exactly. But they seem to suspect there’s something underhand behind this demand.’
‘Possibly they suspect the truth,’ said Rice, moving closer to the missionary so he should not be overheard. ‘It’s perhaps obvious that the commodore is still trying to force them to accept delivery of the President’s original letter in Yed
o
itself’
‘Perhaps,’ agreed Armstrong in an undertone. ‘They’re certainly insisting that they will only consent to receive the duplicates, trans1atins and originals at one and the same time. And they also seem unable to understand the rank of co
m
m
o
dore, because they refer repeatedly to our commander-in-chief as “the honoured admiral”.’
The flag lieutenant drew a long slow breath to cover his own exasperation, the
n
pulled a sheet of paper towards him to write out a quick summary of what had been said, and handed
it
to Midshipman Harris.
‘Take this to the commander-in-chief immediately,’ he said quietly. ‘And wait for his reply.’
As soon as Harris had departed, an uncomfortable silence fell between the two groups. The morning was already hot, and a large h
o
neybee drifted in through one of the cabin’s open scuttles to float erratically back and forth above their heads in the still air; the lazy drone of its
fligh
t
contrasted sharply with the more urgent rhythm of drums and hammers coming from the shore, and several pairs of eyes nervously followed its meaningless progress around the cabin. The Japanese, accustomed lifelong to kneeling or squatting without support on soft tatami
covered floors, shifted uneasily on the straight-backed chairs and fanned themselves more ‘vigorously, taking care never to meet the gaze of their American counterparts.
‘You may inform His Excellency that, because of the unexpected obstacles he has raised, we have been forced to refer these questions directly to our honoured “admiral”,’ said Rice at last, addressing Armstrong. ‘And make it clear
it
‘
will be necessary to wait patiently while the admiral considers what steps must now be taken in response.’
Neither the governor nor any member of his retinue spoke, or betrayed any other visible reaction, as Armstrong and Haniwara Tokuma. interpreted the lieutenant’s words. If anything, they sat straighter in their seats, but in the stillness and sti
l
l
n
ess of their postures there was a hint of growing disquiet. The uneasy silence endured for several minutes more before Midshipman Harris was heard returning at a fast pace. ‘When he re-entered the cabin, he was seen to be carrying a sheet of paper bearing detailed written instructions, and there was an anticipatory rustle amongst the men of both sides.
‘Sir, the ad
mi
ral’s orders are that this memorandum should be translated into Dutch and read to His Excellency at once said Harris, saluting smartly and placing the paper on the table before the flag lieutenant. ‘The admiral also says it should be explained at the outset that his terms are not negotiable.’
Rice thanked the midshipman and read quickly through the memorandum before showing it to Samuel Armstrong. When the
m
issionary nodded to indicate that he was ready to translate the contents, the flag lieutenant cleared his throat and looked directly at the governor.
‘Your Excellency; he said, speaking slowly and very clearly, ‘I am instructed by the honoured admiral to tell you four simple things, and they are as follows. First, the admiral will never go
to
Nagasaki
for any reason whatsoever,
nor will he ever consent to receive any
communication
of any kind through the Dutch or the Chinese. . . Second, the admiral has a letter from the President of the United States to deliver to the Emperor of
Japan, or to his Secretary of Foreign Affairs, or to a high official of e
q
uivalent rank. This original letter he will deliver to nobody else.’
Rice paused and waited for the translations to be made, watching the faces of the Japanese officials closely as they absorbed this information. Outwardly they continued to show no emotion, but some members of the delegation glanced sideways at each other as they listened.
‘Thirdly, the admiral has already said he expected a reply of some sort within three days
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and he will receive that reply nowhere other than in the neighbourhood of Yedo Bay.’
The flag lieutenant saw the governor’s eyes narrow slightly as the third clause was translated for him, and he waited for several seconds, all
o
wing the silence to lengthen significantly before reading out the conclusion to the memorandum.
‘Finally, the admiral co
mm
ands me to say that if this friendly letter from the President of the United States to the Emperor of Japan is not received and duly replied to, he will consider his country insulted. And if his country is so insulted, he will not hold himself accountable for the consequences.’
Lieutenant Rice had matched his voice to the uncompromising tone of the final words, and Samuel Armstrong delivered his translation in a similarly forthright manner. As he made his notes, a pained frown suddenly shadowed the scholarly features of Haniwara Tokuma, and the frown deepened when he turned to the governor to render the closing statement into Japanese.
For several seconds after absorbing the significance of the thinly veiled threat, none of the Japanese moved; but their expressions had become uncertain and the governor suddenly raised his fan in front of his face and spoke to his interpreter in an undertone. A flurry of urgent whispers followed, then all the members of the delegation stood up as one man and bowed perfunctorily in a parting salutation. The next moment they followed the governor out of the cabin and climbed rapidly up the companion-ladders to the entry port below which their boat was waiting.
‘His Excellency wishes me to inform you that he must return immediately to the shore for further consultations with his superiors,’ said Haniwara stiffly, inclining his head a fraction towards Rice. ‘He wishes me to add that he is not at present authorized to agree to the demands you have made. If there is anything more to tell you after the consultations have taken place, we will return in two or three hours.’
Without waiting to hear Samuel Armstrong’s translation, Haniwara hurried from the cabin and climbed quickly to the upper deck to join the rest of the delegation. When he arrived at the entry port, the governor led the way down into the boat, and as soon as they were seated its oarsmen began to pull swiftly towards the shore, where the drums and gongs of war were still sounding in the same steady, unflagging rhythm.
To his surprise Samuel Armstrong awoke on his bunk three hours later to find that a strange silence had descended on the bay. The drums and gongs were no longer audible, and the distant ringing of the hammers had also ceased. In the still heat of the early afternoon the soft slap of wavelets against the
Susquehanna’s
stern was the only sound that reached into his cabin.
He sat up on the bunk, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief that he had fallen into such a deep refreshing sleep after the wearying nightmares of the pre-dawn hours. During the meeting in the captain’s cabin his head had throbbed intermittently from a mixture of tension and tiredness, but now he felt alert and clear-headed again. Pulling a pocket
watch from his waistcoat he saw to his amazement that he had slept for two blissful hours. Since the abrupt departure of the Japanese had produced an atmosphere of high tension on the
Susquehanna,
he had not expected to sleep at all when he eventually returned to his own cramped cabin. That under those circumstances he had enjoyed the solace of such deep slumber seemed like something close to a miracle.
At the conclusion of the meeting he had rushed up to the spar-deck hoping to find an opportunity to question Haniwara Tokuma discreetly about Robert Eden before the Japanese disembarked. But their boat had already cast off by the time he reached the entry port, and he could only stand and watch helplessly as it was rowed rapidly back towards the shore. During the following half hour he had deliberately kept himself to himself; pacing the decks of the
Susquehanna
again while he pondered on the strained exchanges with the Japanese, and wrestled with the ambivalent feelings that pricked his conscience more acutely with each passing hour.
Yes, he told himself, his belief that the Christian gospels were mankind’s chief hope of salvation remained fundamental. Therefore those teachings needed to be carried clearly to every race and nation on earth
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and that would be the finest outcome of this effort to draw Japan into the world from its ancient state of isolation. But his personal involvement, day after day, in the increasingly threatening acts of armed intimidation was making him feel more and more uneasy.
Could he be sure any longer that the end justified such hostile means? Christianity urged brotherhood between all races and peace between nations, so was it really laudable to risk war
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and hundreds or even thousands of deaths
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to ensure the success of this expedition? And if the answer to such questions as these was ‘No’, then wasn’t his own role in these historic events becoming thoroughly dishonourable? He was only an interpreter, but wasn’t he in truth being duped and used as. a cat’s-paw to help cow and subjugate the Japanese? And wouldn’t
it
be more honourable to withdraw his services and play no further role? Or was the most honourable course to carry on and try in some way to influence and modify the course that events were taking
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as, in a different way, Robert Eden had done? This reflection made him realize he was increasingly disturbed that Eden’s fate seemed to count for nothing against the dubious goals of the expedition. Motivated spontaneously by the injustice of the unfolding events of which he was a part, the young officer had courageously acted on his convictions; but his reward was to find himself abandoned, as though his individual life was of no value and Christian principles did not apply to those who disagreed with the official methods being employed.
All these thoughts had whirled endlessly through his mind as he paced the flagship’s decks with the thud of the drums and gongs resounding in his ears. But, because he had found it impossible to reconcile the welter of conflicting emotions, he decided to seek some respite from them by applying his mind instead to a practical task, and had returned to his cabin to spend twenty minutes preparing the translation of the commodore’s new letter to the Japanese Emperor. When he had finished it to his satisfaction, his mind felt a little easier and he took out a large folio notebook in which he had regularly recorded his impressions of the extraordinary voyage. In his small, careful hand he wrote a brief account of his latest feelings, then took off his jacket and stretched himself wearily on his bunk, intending to rest merely for a few minutes. The next two hours had seemed to fly by in an instant, and on waking he had risen to dash water over his face, feeling a quiet sense of elation at having found the relaxation he so sorely needed. He had eaten a snack of dried fruit and ship’s biscuits, still wondering at the strange silence that had fallen over the bay but he had not been surprised when a knock at his cabin door was then followed by an excited announcement from a midshipman messenger that the Governor of Uraga had just returned to the flagship with his retinue and was being conducted to the captain’s cabin.
When Armstrong took his place at the table beside Flag Lieutenant Rice, the tableau of that morning’s tense meeting had re