Tokyo Bay (38 page)

daimy
o
,
the gowned official and the governor.
‘Good. Then it is time to practise the secret procedure: said the official, gesturing for the samurai to move towards the open trapdoor. ‘I will seat myself in Prince Toda’s position. I will give the signal for the attack by lifting my right hand across the front of my body to touch my left shoulder. You, Haniwara-san, should then move behind the lacquered chest to the closed trapdoor, and tap on it sharply three times with your heel.
Their leather and chainmail armour creaked and their swords clanked quietly at their sides as the dozen samurai moved away swiftly down the steps into the concealed pit. The last one lowered the trapdoor behind him and an aide of the gowned official straightened the red carpet over it before retreating. The group of
daimyo
moved to stand in a semicircle behind the porcelain stool on which the gowned official seated himself playing the role of Prince Toda, First Counsellor of the Empire. The hammering and the bustle of activity in the rest of the pavilion decreased suddenly, then stopped altogether as though by some silent command. The loin-clothed labourers and artisans paused in their work to stare towards the lacquered chest and the dignitaries ringed around it, aware from their demeanour that something of dramatic moment was being rehearsed.
The governor motioned to Haniwara Tokuma to kneel with him in formal fashion before the imperial stools. The interpreter, still very conscious of his fast- beating heart, tucked up his legs and tried to settle into the familiar posture, turning his head slightly so that he could see the seated senior official. Although he did not look directly at him, he was conscious of the burly figure of Lord Daizo standing among the other
daimyo,
and he could feel that his dark eyes were still staring fixedly at him.
‘Remember the foreign barbarians will be watchful,’ whispered the governor at his side, nodding faintly in the direction of the Buddhist funeral thrones a few yards away. ‘So when the signal is given, move in a slow measured way so as not to arouse suspicion.’
The interpreter nodded tensely and looked towards the empty chairs, imagining that they were occupied by the tall, haughty figures of the Americans whom he had met on the
Susquehanna.
The fist of fear inside him seemed to tighten further at the prospect of being involved in attacking them, and at the same time his apprehension for his family’s safety also grew more intense. An expectant hush had fallen over the interior of the pavilion, and no sounds came from beneath the trapdoor. When the gowned official at last moved his right hand to make the signal, it was done casually and unhurriedly and, because of his anxiety; Haniwara remained frozen for a moment in the kneeling position. Then he rose to his feet, trying not to hurry; and moved a few paces to the rear of the lacquered chest, where he tapped nervously three times on the trapdoor with his right heel before standing quickly aside.
At first nothing happened and he worried that he had tapped too softly and had not been heard. He was on the point of moving back onto the trapdoor to repeat the signal when it flew open with a crash and the hideous horned fighting mask of the first samurai appeared close before his face. He recoiled backwards in alarm as a bloodcurdling scream rang out from behind the mask and the warrior flung himself past the lacquered chest, his sword already in his hand. He lunged fast towards the three carved seats and slashed viciously left and right through the air above them, simulating killing strokes over and over again with great ferocity
Half a dozen more warriors leapt from the cellar close on his heels to charge forward en masse, each one yelling and flailing his sword at the imaginary enemies. For a few seconds their steel blades glittered and flashed furiously under the light of the paper lanterns, then, on a sudden shouted command from the first samurai, all the warriors became still and replaced their swords in their scabbards. Within moments they had run back to the steps and disappeared again into the cellar-pit. Following them, their leader quickly hauled the trapdoor closed, and almost at once orderly calm returned to the pavilion. As one man, the watching labourers restarted their work and the sound of hammering and sawing quickly filled the air again.
‘Quite satisfactory,’ said the gowned official, rising from his stool and glancing round at the assembled noblemen and the governor. ‘It is of course to be hoped that the foreign barbarians give us no cause to implement these purely defensive plans.’
Haniwara Tokuma, from his place beside the lacquered chest, watched the group fall into conversation about other aspects of the ceremony; but his heart sank suddenly when he saw Lord Daizo detach himself from the deliberations and walk towards him. In a loud voice the nobleman offered his congratulations on the efficient working of the plan but, on a pretext of asking a question about the trapdoor, he motioned for the interpreter to follow him behind the chest. When they were out of earshot, Daizo lowered his voice to speak more quietly and again, as at the castle, his tone was heavy with menace.
‘I have something important to tell you, Haniwara-san. Are you calm and listening carefully?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said the interpreter miserably. ‘I am listening.’
‘Then I can inform you that we have captured the hideous alien who came ashore secretly from the black ships to spy. Have you understood?’
The interpreter stiffened with shock, then nodded numbly without looking at the
daimyo.
‘I have understood, my lord.’
‘Good. Because we intend to bring him to this pavilion by surprise, at the height of the ceremony. There will be a commotion at the sight of him. At that moment I shall appear in the entrance to the pavilion, and you are to be watching carefully. Is all that clear so far?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ murmured the interpreter.
‘1 shall make the same signal that you reacted to just now
-
and you will go unobtrusively to the trapdoor, and tap three times to order the attack on the other hideous aliens. If you do not obey these orders, your wife and children will all die within the hour.’ Lord Daizo paused and looked at the interpreter through narrowed eyes. ‘Are you quite sure you’ve understood everything?’
‘I am sure I’ve heard everything very clearly, my lord,’ replied the interpreter in a hoarse whisper. ‘I have no wish but to obey’
‘Good, Haniwara-san,’ said the
daimyo
with mock politeness. ‘I am very glad. You are, as I thought, a very wise man.’
Without speaking further, Lord Daizo turned and hurried back to join the other noblemen. They were inspecting the mural pictures of cranes and other great birds which were being fixed in place above the ornate seats to be occupied by the visiting American naval officers. A quiet discussion about the artistic merits of the silk scroll paintings was in progress, and Lord Daizo immediately joined in, nodding and gesturing naturally with the others and betraying no hint that he had just issued secret orders of his own to assassinate the leading foreign barbarians in the midst of the ceremony.

ON THE QUARTERDECK
of the
Susquehanna
Samuel Armstrong raised a telescope to his eye shortly after dawn and looked apprehensively towards the shore. Billowing mists still obscured the distant valleys and ravines, but the rising sun was beginning to break through in patches and he swept the glass slowly along new stretches of canvas that had appeared overnight on the nearest c
l
i
f
f
tops. Larger throngs of fighting men than he had seen before were becoming visible, patro
ll
ing briskly back and forth behind the blue-and-white screens with lances and muskets on their shoulders. Additional panels of canvas had also been erected around the forts and gun emplacements giving them a more substantial appearance.
He noticed too that scarlet streamers and flags bearing a variety of emblems and heraldic devices had been suspended from the tall posts supporting the screens. The new contingents of armed men he could see through the telescope wore a loose-skirted fighting dress
-
dark brown in colour, which he had not seen before
-
and they had broad sashes about their waists. At first glance these splashes of colour seemed merely to add a fresh dimension of ceremonial pageantry to the visible coast; but then he noticed that the soldiers were bare
-
armed, and after studying their movements closely he decided that the briskness of their demeanour indicated a new readiness, even an eagerness, for action. The unfamiliar banners and screens, he concluded, seemed more likely to have been erected for purposes of defence than for show
No breath of wind stirred the glassy waters of the bay and, from beyond the headland to the south, the noises of hammering and construction were still continuing intermittently. Armstrong listened for a moment, wondering anxiously again what would be revealed on landing. But his thoughts did not dwell long on the prospect because the decks of the
Susquehanna
and the other three warships anchored abreast before Uraga were already a
-
bustle with noise too, as they prepared to move smoothly to their battle stations.
The recently started engines of the flagship were throbbing steadily and black smoke was beginning to drift lazily from its tall black funnel. Neat piles of shot had been re-stacked beside each cannon and more carbines and pikes had been grouped in small pyramids, ready for use. Sailors dressed in freshly laundered white blouses, blue be
l
lbottom trousers, blue collars and black neckerchiefs were dashing up and down the ladders between decks, tugging on new blue caps issued specially for the occasion. These caps were decked with bands of red, white and blue stripes
-
and thirteen blue stars representing the states of the Union had been emblazoned on the white stripe. The marines had donned their traditional blue jackets and white trousers, and were busy brushing their plumed shakos and whitening the gleaming bandoliers they would wear a
c
ross their chests. Glancing back and forth from the ship to the shore, Armstrong reflected sadly that if the day were to end in killing and butchery the fighting men on both sides would have the satisfaction of being arrayed in their best military finery to perpetrate these terrible deeds.
On hearing a quiet footfall behind him, Armstrong turned to find Commodore Matthew Perry himself approaching. Although he was hatless and wore no sword, the commander-in-chief was also partly garbed in full-dress uniform. Gilded epaulettes enlarged the broad set of his shoulders, and the twin rows of gold buttons on the dark bole of his chest were augmented by an impressive cluster of decorations and star-shaped orders. His dark, curly hair flowed over his collar as usual but his leonine features were impassive as he scanned the fortified shore minutely without the aid of a glass.
‘Good morning, Commodore said Armstrong quietly, gazing in the same direction, towards the c
l
iff
tops. ‘There seems to be more activity around those forts than ever before.’
Matthew Perry grunted an inaudible greeting, but made no other reply. After peering hard into the mists for a long time he raised his head cautiously, like some big animal scenting the air, and looked up towards the brightening sky. ‘There’s no wind at all this morning,
Mr.
Armstrong,’ he said absently, without looking at the missionary-interpreter. ‘That means the sail frigates can’t move closer inshore. So the
Plymouth
will stay here, and its guns will command Uraga.’ He paused, scanning the shore again towards the north.
‘Saratoga
will be able to direct its cannon at the next town and the forts surrounding it...’
‘I think it’s called Humai on the charts, sir,’ said Armstrong.
‘Just so,
Saratoga
will command Humai.’
The commodore fell silent again, turning his attention back to the nearest fortifications and the growing number of warriors moving above Uraga. His eyes narrowed as he watched, but he still offered no comment.
‘Are you expecting trouble, Commodore?’ ventured Armstrong tentatively. ‘To me there does seem to be a new sense of purpose and urgency in their movements.’
‘I have no serious apprehension that there will be a warlike termination to today’s ceremonies said Perry sharply. ‘Our best chance of security will lie in our capacity to put on an impressive display of power.’
Armstrong knew that late the previous evening the commodore had summoned the captains of all four warships to an urgent conference on the
Susquehanna,
after
sending a scouting party in a cutter to Kurihama bay. The party had taken soundings and carefully surveyed the location of the ceremonial pavilion and its surrounding fortifications; armed with this knowledge, the commander-in-chief and his officers had mapped out their strategy for the vital day. No information had so far been passed to Armstrong himself, but from what he knew of Perry’s character he was certain that personal boldness and a forthright courage, which were the hallmarks of his career, would be stamped very clearly on the proceedings.
‘May I ask exactly how you propose, Commodore, to “display” our power?’ asked Armstrong respectfully. ‘Knowing might help me pitch my interpreting at the correct level.’
‘Soon,
Mr.
Armstrong, we shall weigh anchor along with the
Mississippi
and steam the short distance to the entrance of Kurihama bay: said Perry brusquely. ‘We shall anchor across its mouth, with our guns primed and springs on our cables. That way we can threaten the landing place unwaveringly with the full power of our broadsides. I shall place additional howitzers in fully manned boats, which will be held alongside the frigates when we go ashore. These craft will be kept at a constant state of alert, ready to go into action at a moment’s notice.’
‘And how many men will you take ashore?’
‘Three hundred or more! A hundred and ten marines, a hundred and twenty sailors, forty musicians from the two ships’ bands, and a large body of officers. Each man will be armed with a sword and a pistol or a musket. All firearms will be loaded. There will be a thousand charges of ball in the party
-
and each of the fifteen boats will carry extra cartridge boxes!’
‘Those numbers might be seen as excessive to support the peaceful delivery of an official letter,’ said Armstrong dryly. ‘But, if hostilities break out, our most conservative estimates say the Japanese have at least ten thousand visible armed men ranged against us.’
‘But armed with what exactly,
Mr.
Armstrong?’ asked Perry dismissively. ‘Nothing remotely dangerous to us, I’ll warrant.’
‘Since I shall be at your side, Commodore, I hope you’re not underestimating the fighting spirit of the Japanese. They have a reputation as fierce warriors.’
‘Talk to the men,
Mr.
Armstrong, if you still doubt cut in Perry peremptorily and lifted his telescope to his eye to survey the c
l
iff
tops. ‘Every Yankee I’ve spoken to believes we can scatter any number of men with one broadside, one war-whoop and a single determined rush with cold steel.’
‘I wonder if Robert Eden would be able to confirm that opinion as sound,’ remarked Armstrong mildly. ‘Provided he’s still alive, of course, to confirm anything at all.’
The interpreter turned his head to look enquiringly at the squadron commander, but if he had heard the reference to his missing lieutenant he gave no sign. For a full minute Perry continued to study the shore intently through his telescope; then he snapped it closed with a decisive gesture.
‘I have every confidence in the valour of the men presently under my command,’ he said, looking directly at the missionary. ‘And in our superior firepower.
I
trust your work as interpreter today for this expedition will also reflect that total confidence. No
w
if you’ll excuse me, I must go and prepare the day’s orders. We must weigh anchor very soon.’
The burly figure swung briskly away across the quarterdeck, heading for his cabin, and Armstrong watched him until he went out of sight. Turning to look towards the shore again, the missionary felt a new shudder of apprehension run up his spine. He wondered once more about the fate of the missing lieutenant who had disappeared overboard so dramatically six long days ago and, try as he might, he could not dismiss the feeling t
h
at there was something ominous in the almost total absence of information about him during all that time.
The billowing mists that he could see still clinging to the hills and gorges inland also seemed to intensif
y
the nagging anxiety he felt about his own safet
y
Standing at the rail, he tried to calm his fears by imagining himself stepping ashore and moving with unflustered dignity amidst the great multitude of feudal Japanese soldiery But such thoughts, far from soothing him, served only to heighten his nervousness and he started suddenly when the
Mississippi
blew a piercing blast on her whistle to announce that she was preparing to move.
As he listened to the clank of the
Mississippi’s
anchor-chain and watched her giant paddle-wheels begin to churn, he resolved suddenly that before landing he would do something he had never done before. He would borrow a blue officer’s jacket and for the very first time in his life strap on a sheathed sword! Because of Christ’s agonized exhortation to Peter to put away his steel in the Garden of Gethsemane, he knew at once that he would never be able t
o
draw and use such a weapon himself, even in self- defence. But if he carried one with him, he reasoned inwardly as the
Susquehanna
too began to weigh anchor, at least he would not stand out as the only defenceless target in the entire American landing party.
For a few minutes longer he stood alone on the quarterdeck, mulling over his astounding decision. Part of him felt he should change his mind and he tried to tell himself several times that his faith in God should be sufficient protection.
But
this logic, he found, was not sufficiently reassuring, and his disquiet persisted. Then, as he watched the bows of the two great smoke-belching warships swing slowly to point south towards Kurihama, he shook his head once in a gesture of finality and hurried below to seek out the ship’s armourer and request that he be provided with a
suitable
blade.