Tokyo Bay (4 page)

AS
DAWN BROKE,
Lieutenant Robert Eden was standing watchfully beside an open gunport on the main deck of the
Susquehanna.
In one hand he clutched an unsheathed cutlass and his other hand rested on the holster of his .36 calibre Colt Navy pistol. He was staring hard towards the shore, straining his eyes for a first glimpse of unknown Japan, but a dense shroud of white mist clung to the spars and furled sails of the slow-moving flagship, making
it
impossible for him to discern the slightest detail of the coastline.
The sea was flat and calm: the night breeze had dropped suddenly and there was no hint of wind. An eerie silence had descended
with
the morning mist, as though nature, aware of the drama of the moment, was watching a unique event with bated breath. In the stillness even the thumping of the steam frigate’s engines and the slap of its paddle- wheels against the water seemed muted. From the tall, single funnel amidships, dark smoke was billowing lazily upwards to dissolve fro
m
sight in the mist astern.
‘It’s a ghostly looking dawn, sir murmured a young marine nervously at Eden’s side. ‘Do you think we’ll find armed troops on the beaches, when this fog lifts?’
‘It’s anybody’s guess, marine,’ replied Eden shortly. ‘You’d best maintain discipline and stay silent:
All along the length of the flagship’s rails, other United States marines stood pugnaciously alert at their battle stations. Dressed in peaked caps, blue jackets and white twills, their chests crisscrossed with white bandoliers, they held filly loaded carbines at the ready as they peered expectantly towards the shore. All the other gunports had already been opened, and their heavy cannon had been loaded and run out. Beside every weapon lay a neat pile of round shot and four stands of grape; muskets had been stacked on the quarterdeck and all boats had been armed with carbines, pistols and cutlasses. Sentinels who had been posted fore and aft and at the gangways were leaning out over the rails and bulwarks, their bodies tense, their eyes straining for the faintest glimpse of trouble.
As Eden peered vainly into the mist he found himself pondering in which direction Mount Fuji lay. Would the volcano that had dazzled his eyes so overwhelmingly during the night still be visible by day, he wondered. And could
it
possibly prove to be as extraordinary a vision in daylight? While he was reflecting on these questions, the first memory of his dream about the mountain rushed back into his conscious mind, and the force of this waking recollection was so strong that he started inwardly. For several moments the starkly beautiful dream-image of the peak filled his thoughts to the exclusion of all else. The very clarity and vividness of this image seemed initially to imbue it with the quality of genuine memory; then he remembered gathering in the star-filled night to wind about his body and he smiled faintly with relief at recognizing the dream for what it had been. But then he recalled the dream’s strange climax, and saw again the temple and the giant mirror at the volcano’s peak. In its silver surface the disturbing reflections of Japanese faces that had replaced his own swam into focus, and this merging of rare beauty with something ominous and undefined made him shudder physically in the cold damp of the dawn.
‘Looks like we’re going to find out something now, sir,’ breathed the marine guard at Eden’s side, gesturing in the direction of the shore.
Realizing suddenly how distracted he had become, Eden gathered himself and screwed up his eyes to follow the direction indicated. Through the mist he could see the smudged outline of a towering headland, flanked by a lower mountain range. His dream memories, both exhilarating and disturbing in the same moment, had heightened the sense of excitement he felt at finally coming in sight of their goal, and this long-anticipated glimpse of land quickened his pulse. He screwed up his eyes, trying to pick out figures who might bring life and depth to the coastline but only the stark grandeur of the cliffs and mountains could be seen.
‘This is Cape Idzu,’ whispered a voice in Japanese, at Eden’s elbow. ‘We’re now entering the Gulf of Yedo.’
Glancing round, the American officer saw that Sentaro, the Japanese castaway, had appeared beside him and was peering intently into the mist. As he scanned the hazy shoreline, his narrow eyes became bright with emotion.
‘It’s nearly four years now since I saw my homeland, master,’ he murmured anxiously. ‘So many times I’ve longed for this moment
-
but, as I said before, I’m very afraid...’
The light coastal mist was dispersing slowly to reveal a calm, mirror-like sea. N, boat or vessel of any kind disturbed its glittering surface and the rocky shoreline, becoming clearer with every passing moment, also lay quiet and deserted, as far as the eye could see.
‘There doesn’t seem to be much to worry about here,’ said Eden quietly, returning his cutlass to a nearby weapons rack. ‘No sign at all of any armed men.’
‘There are no fortifications here, master,’ replied the Japanese, still peering towards
the
shore. ‘Nearer to Yedo in the bay itself there are many forts. High on the cliffs... everywhere.., a lot of guns. No foreign ship has ever dared to sail past them.’
Through the retreating mist the three other ships of the squadron were gradually materializing and taking on distinct form. For safety’s sake the
Susquehanna
and the
Mississippi,
both named after great North American rivers, had taken the sloops-of
-
war in tow and the strengthening sun revealed the squadron to be an impressive sight for their crews, as well as for the many unseen Japanese eyes already watching fearfully from the shore. Weighing around two thousand tons each, the steam frigates embodied two contrasting historical epochs in their appearance: each was barque
-
rigged with three masts and a full complement of sails from the past, but both also possessed massive, side
-
mounted paddle- wheels and tall smokestacks that foreshadowed the future. Hauling the lighter sailing ships easily in their wake, the steam-driven vessels looked majestic and impregnable as they moved through the brightening day at a speed of eight knots, with all sails tidily furled.
At the end of the
Susquehanna’s
taut hawser, which minutes before had seemed to haul nothing but a dense cloud of fog, the thousand
-
ton
Plymouth
was now fully visible. Almost abeam, a quarter of a mile off, the
Mississippi,
belching similar clouds of black smoke, was carefully keeping station, with
Saratoga
gliding silently at its heels. Eden could see that contingents of marine guards and sailors were drawn up at their battle stations on all of the four warships, and the signal flags fluttering from the mizzen mast of the
Susquehanna
visibly confirmed the dramatic command of the hour: ‘Clear ships for action’
For the past three days Eden and his fellow officers had put the gun crews repeatedly through their paces, clearing the decks, shotting and running out the massive sixty-four-pound cannon. The firepower of all the warships had also been augmented with newer eight-inch Paixhans, which fired explosive shells in deafening salvoes, and their small teams of specialist gunners had been trained to a peak of readiness. All the ships’ longboats had been armed with small brass cannon and readied for launching; extra lookouts had been posted aloft, in the bows and at the stern; drills to meet all contingencies from landing attacks to repelling boarders had been practised over and over again, and stacks of sharp, long-handled pikes stood ready for use in defending the decks against any attempt by the Japanese to swarm aboard in overpowering numbers.
The strait leading to the Bay of Yedo was some eight miles wide, but because no detailed charts were available, as it advanced across the lower gulf the US squadron slowed its speed and moved forward with greater caution. The bigger warships needed a draught of three and a half fathoms beneath their iron-braced wooden hulls and constant soundings were also being taken by leadsmen who swung out weighted lines from the ‘chains’ of the narrow bows. With the
Susquehanna
at its head, the squadron forged on through the morning hours, following a course that took it to within two miles of the bay’s northern shore.
As the coastal mist cleared in the early afternoon, Eden caught sight of the first signs of habitation: a thatched village nestling in the shadow of a rocky bluff. Almost at once figures began spilling from the houses, and soon the beach was black with running, gesticulating men. Higher up the strait a dozen high
prowed fishing junks with ribbed, bat-wing sails were emerging from a cove. On catching sight of the American ships they milled confusedly in a circle for a minute or two before half their number broke from the rest and sailed away rapidly in the direction of Yedo, as though to raise an alarm.
Two or three of the junks approached and crossed the path of the thundering warships before, apparently, realizing the speed at which they were moving. As the
Susquehanna
bore down on them, the Japanese fishermen panicked and brought the sails clattering down their masts. Manning long oars, they desperately rowed their lumbering craft shoreward, passing so close to the American ships that Eden and the marine guards were able to see the fearful expressions on their faces.
As he watched them, Eden felt a tug at his sleeve. Looking down, he found Sentar
o
pointing out through the gunport towards the beach. Following the direction of his finger, Eden saw a flotilla of twenty or more narrow boats had been launched and were being rowed
skillfully
towards them. Each boat bore an identical coloured flag on its stern marked with a single Japanese character, and it was evident that they carried an organized defence force.
Sentaro’s face furrowed into a despairing expression and he began muttering distractedly, repeating the same words over and over again.
‘Shimpai! Taihen shimpai
-
I’m worried, master. . . I’m so worried
Eden watched the boats for several seconds, then patted the castaway reassuringly on the shoulder. ‘Look, they’re falling behind already. They’re not fast enough to catch us. Don’t upset yourself
Turning, Eden glanced towards the quarterdeck, where the bulky authoritative figure of Commodore Matthew Perry was silhouetted, standing determinedly alone at the weather rail. Resplendent in a dark blue tunic festooned with gold epaulettes and double rows of gilded buttons, his dark leonine head jutted aggressively from his high collar as he surveyed the misty strait through a long Dollond telescope. When they approached Cape Sagami around noon the squadron had come to on his orders and he had spelled out his feelings very clearly to all the officers and men of the four ships through their captains, whom he called to his cabin on the flagship. There were only two ways, he had said, to open Japan to trade
-
by a
show
of force or by the outright use of that force.
If displaying their mighty steam-driven warships bristling with guns and armed men was not sufficient, he had emphasized, he was fully prepared to go further and use them
-
even though the squadron carried a total force of only one thousand men to be pitted against innumerable Japanese. Boldness and confidence, therefore, were all-important. In previous years, he had recalled, some American ships which had sailed into this same bay had been boarded, and their commanders had been harassed and humiliated. This would not happen again, under any circumstances! It was for this precise reason that he had ordered the repeated drills at battle stations to bring the crews and the marine guard to a high pitch of readiness. He had particularly reminded all ranks that the formal letter which they carried from the President of the United States to the Emperor of Japan was of crucial importance. It was essential that this letter be presented with the utmost dignity
-
but as a last resort he would threaten to land and march by force into Yedo, to deliver the letter personally to the Emperor. And that threat was not an idle one.. . Studying the proud, ramrod-straight figure who had made these decisions, Eden could almost feel his steely, unflagging determination. It was widely known that Perry himself had proposed this expedition several years earlier, and he seemed now to swell visibly with the ambition to impose his will on the mysterious country that was at last sketching itself before his eyes through the mist.
The sudden boom of a gun from the shore interrupted Eden’s thoughts and wrenched his attention from the quarterdeck. Looking westward through his gunport, he saw a great fist of dark smoke rising slowly from a
cl
iff
top fort. He guessed a rocket or a cannon had been fired
-
either in an attempt to warn the ships to proceed no further or to give notice of their coming to defenders higher up the bay. Realizing this, he swung back quickly to check the reaction of Commodore Perry at the quarterdeck rail. His
flag
lieutenant was waiting respectfully for orders a few paces away, and eager midshipmen were also hovering, ready to run headlong to all quarters of the frigate with messages and commands. But the burly figure of the commodore remained impassive and unmoved. Almost nonchalantly he continued to study the smoke of the explosion and the fortified shoreline through his telescope, yet he made no comment and issued no new orders.
Glancing quickly about himself, Eden noticed that crewmen and marine guards alike were showing signs of tension. Other forts were becoming visible on distant cliffs and, although no further shots were fired, when he drew a small pair of personal binoculars from his jacket pocket to scan the distant heights, he was able to see that most of their ramparts bristled with guns. More and more fishing junks and fast mosquito boats with official-looking stern flags were putting to sea to swarm in the direction of the squadron, and he realized from their faces that some of the sailors around him were beginning to fear that their own ships might be moving into the jaws of a trap.
‘I will be accused, master, of bringing forbidden thoughts back to Japan...’ Sentaro was back at Eden’s side, his expression more anxious than before. ‘Arriving home in a barbarian warship I can see now will look very bad for me. I may even be executed.’
‘You don’t have to remain in Japan, Sentaro,’ said Eden quietly, still studying the coastline through his binoculars. ‘You could stay on board this ship and return with us to America.’
‘How?’ asked the castaway frantically. ‘I asked to be brought back here. Who would help me now?’
Eden did not reply at once, As more hilltop forts emerged from the haze, dark swarms of armed men could be seen drilling purposefully around them. The afternoon sunlight was also illuminating a landscape of extraordinary beauty: precipitous cliffs were giving way to deep ravines cloaked in rich green vegetation, which in turn opened onto inlets of rich alluvial land at sea level. Small villages were clustered around these inlets, and crowds of people could be seen rushing towards the beaches to watch the American ships pass.