Tokyo Bay (41 page)

n
a’s
commander the whole flotilla began to move away towards the shore.
The Japanese oarsmen, who were stripped to the waist, hissed vigorously at each stroke as was their habit and pulled ahead. Provoked by this challenge, the American sailors began to dip their own oars with greater rapidity in order to keep up, and the long flotilla sped forward across the glittering waters, slipping easily over long tendrils
of
seaweed that grew close to the surface. As they went, Armstrong noticed that some of the young Americans were staring towards the beaches, their serious faces showing that they too were wondering anxiously how the day might end. Others, however, joked and bantered boisterously with each other to keep up their spirits.
Although some mist still clung to many of the green ravines above Kurihama, the sun was becoming brilliant over the sea. It dazzled on the white plumes of the marines, gilded the caps and gold braid of the officers more brightly, and flashed on the steel of the many carbines and cutlasses which bristled in each boat. The spray from the fast
-
moving oars began to whip Armstrong’s face and, despite his deep Christian abhorrence of all forms of warfare, he suddenly felt an illogical surge of exhilaration in his breast. The two bands struck up a cheerful sea-shanty, as if the danger of the Japanese shore batteries opening fire on this aggressive American flotilla was non-existent, and Armstrong let his body relax for the first time that day against the gunwale of the barge. At that moment one of the
Susquehanna’s
massive cannon exploded with a deep roar that shook the whole bay. A second gun roared a moment later, and the great crowd of Japanese civilians at which Armstrong had been staring began to break up and flee in all directions. A third gun boomed from the flagship and the missionary instinctively ducked lower in the barge, looking fearfully about himself
‘Don’t worry,
Mr.
Armstrong,’ said Major Pearsall affably. ‘It’s just a thirteen-gun salute. The commodore is now leaving his flagship.’
Armstrong straightened sheepishly on his seat and looked back to see that the commander-in-chief of the US Navy squadron was in the act of stepping down into his barge. A resplendent figure wearing a gold-tasselled cocked hat, white gloves, ceremonial sword and his full-dress uniform of blue and gold, he paused and appeared to survey the shore haughtily for a moment, before embarking and taking his seat. The sixty-four-pounders continued to boom deafeningly across the bay as his craft began to respond to its oarsmen, and Armstrong turned back towards the shore to find that the crowds of Japanese civilians were hurrying back to their vantage points above the beach, having quickly realized that the roar of the foreign barbarian guns was merely sy
m
bolic, and that no damage or casualties were yet being inflicted.
None of the thousands of Japanese fighting men ranged along the shores, however, seemed to have moved a muscle. Each line stood as immobile and impassive as before, and he sensed instinctively that he was absorbing a lesson of vital importance about a nation that was still largely a mystery to him. Even the samurai cavalrymen, he noticed, had drawn their horses quietly into line behind the screens, and although a few of the animals shied and bucked briefly on hearing the guns roar, all were being quickly and efficiently quietened by their riders. Even though their lines might not have been as well drawn as a unit of United States marines, the unflinching devotion to duty evident in their stillness was eerily impressive and the missionary-interpreter continued to scan their ranks with apprehensive eyes as the American flotilla sped towards the beach.

‘WHAT ARE THOSE
guns,
O
Kami-san?’
A young samurai, who was racing at Tanaka’s heels through the misty woods above Kurihama, gasped out his question in a startled voice as the
Susquehanna’s
cannon continued to boom across the unseen waters of the bay below.
‘I don’t know,’ rasped Tanaka without turning his head. ‘Until this mist clears and we can see what’s happening below, we must be patient.’
The samurai’s bare right shoulder, like Tanaka’s, was already rubbed raw from the unfamiliar friction of the
norimono’s
thick carrying
-
pole, and he was grunting loudly with exertion as he struggled to keep his footing on a steep slope above a gully. Under the rear section of the pole two other samurai were grimacing and grunting too as they strove to manhandle the cumbersome conveyance as quickly as possible down the sharp inclines, watched anxiously by the mounted bodyguards and reserve samurai carriers who were following closely behind.
‘Do you think,
O
Kami-san, it means the foreign barbarians have begun to attack?’ persisted the young man. ‘Are we too late?’
Tanaka waved his arm to indicate they should stop, and lifted his head for a moment to listen. ‘The guns are firing in a regular rhythm,’ he said uncertainly. ‘It could be a signal of some kind.’
As he finished speaking, the guns also ceased to roar, and an unnatural hush descended over the wooded hillsides, as though every tree and every living creature moving among them had paused to listen in terror.
‘Perhaps the barbarians have just left their ships to advance to the shore,’ whispered the young samurai. ‘Which would mean our time is running short.’
‘Perhaps you’re right agreed Tanaka. ‘So we must carry on as fast as we can!’
He raised his arm to give the command and they started downward once more, picking their way carefully over gnarled and knotted tree roots which jutted from the sloping ground. Ahead they could see that the mounted samurai who was guiding them had halted on the brink of a ravine too steep for a horse to negotiate. Mist still swirled in the bottom of the ravine, and he had dismounted in order to peer down its steep sides.
‘I believe this is the lower part of the last track into Kurihama,
O
Kami-san,’ he said quietly when the
norimono
reached him. ‘Soon
it
forks and there are two ways down to the village, which is not far now. Although you can barely see
it,
the track runs through the bottom of this ravine.’
‘Where did you encounter the armed column?’ asked Tanaka quickly.
‘We took our prisoner about four
ri
above this point,
O
Kami
-
san.’
Tanaka thought for a moment, then signalled for the
norimono
to be lowered to the ground. Standing absolutely still he stared down into the mist, listening carefully; but no sound came from below and he shook his head in a gesture of uncertainty.
‘Perhaps they’ve already passed. They may be in Kurihama by this time.’
‘We could run fast along the top of the ravine,
O
Kami-san, and see if we can overtake them,’ said the young samurai eagerly. ‘It may not be too late. .
Tanaka closed his eyes, focusing all his senses on the natural stillness of the forested hills around him. He knew that every second he delayed might be vital, if the armed column had passed and was already approaching the beach at Kurihama; but, equally, if he raced away down the hilt and the armed column was still above them, he would lose his last opportunity to intervene by surprise in the concealing mist.
He knew intuitively that events must now be rushing towards a climax at the beach, but he still felt unable to move. Something held him rooted to the spot and he stood motionless with his eyes closed in an agony of indecision. Then in the deep silence
h
e heard a faint and distant clink of metal; a few moments later the muffled sound of horses’ hoofs moving through grass reached his ears. After another long wait he heard more quiet jingling of harness, more rustling from the foot of the ravine, and eventually the occasional murmur of men’s voices. He knew then why he had not been able to stir himself before and, as the faint noises became continuous, he opened his eyes and saw that all his samurai were listening tensely.
They looked at one another but nobody spoke, and they obeyed instantly when Tanaka motioned for them to stretch themselves soundlessly on the ground. Looking round, he gestured urgently for Gotaro and the mounted guards to remain still and silent on their horses; then crawling forward to the lip of the ravine, he looked over in time to see the unmistakable figure of Daizo Yakamochi emerge from the mist below, riding slowly at the head of a large troop of Makabe samurai.
Tanaka counted thirty warriors moving in close attendance on their leader, then after a gap of twenty yards an ordinary black
norimono
emerged silently from the mist, carried by four turbaned bearers. Tanaka drew in his breath silently as he watched the
norimono
pass directly beneath their hiding place. It was closed and gave no hint of who might be journeying inside, but there was no doubt in his mind that he had at long last tracked down his quarry. A further thirty-yard gap separated the enclosed chair from another seemingly endless column of guards, and Tanaka measured the intervening distance carefully with his eye before drawing back suddenly from the edge of the ravine and gesturing to the samurai who had led them there.
‘How far from here is the fork in the track?’ he whispered urgently.
‘Perhaps one
ri,
O
Kami-san,’ murmured the samurai in reply.
‘And are both ways down the same?’
‘No. To the right, the track passes over a broad stream that flows on to the sea. But to the left the track goes directly to the village and the beach.’
Tanaka’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then he turned quickly to his chief bodyguard. ‘Send a man immediately to our own Kago guard-boats that are standing by at the beach. Have one boat rowed upstream as far as possible!’
‘Yes,
O
Ka
m
i
-
san!’
The chief bodyguard murmured orders to one of his subordinates, who dismounted and led his horse stealthily away from the edge of the ravine before remounting and riding swiftly off into the trees.
‘Does the track between here and the fork run straight?’ demanded Tanaka, turning back to their guide.
‘No, it twists and winds all the way!’
‘Then we must move fast now! If we can get to the fork ahead of them, we’ll have one last chance of averting disaster!’
Rising cautiously to his feet and bending double to ensure he was not seen from below, Tanaka signalled silently to the three loin-clothed samurai who had been held in reserve, and between them they lifted the
norimono
to their shoulders. As before, he took the leading position at the front end of the pole and when they had all settled themselves, he gestured silently to the mounted bodyguards to follow quietly, making sure that they never became visible to the riders below. When everybody was ready, he waved his arm in a forward direction and they set off along the sloping borders of the ravine, carrying the
no
ri
mono
downward through the trees at a fast pace.
‘The mist is beginning to clear, my lord. Look! I believe we can see the foreign barbarians making their way ashore!’
Yakamochi’s new samurai guard captain, who was riding down the ravine at his master’s shoulder, lifted one gloved hand from his reins and
gesticulated
ahead. Through patchy holes that the onshore breeze was beginning to tear in the mist ahead of them, the flotilla of American b
o
ats was becoming visible as
it
neared the shore.
‘They will land in another five minutes, my lord,’ said the guard captain anxiously. ‘Shouldn’t we begin moving faster?’
Through narrowed eyes Yakamochi peered down towards the bay for a moment; then he slowly shook his head. ‘No, Sawara-san, there is no need. My father’s orders are that we should appear suddenly towards the end of the ceremony. Then everybody’s attention will be on what is happening. It is important not to show ourselves too soon.’
‘But it will take at least another fifteen minutes to reach the ceremonial pavilion from here, my lord,’ exclaimed Sawara.
‘That’s precisely right: replied Yakam
o
chi calmly. ‘And we shall arrive in accordance with the plan I laid.’
He turned in his saddle to glance back past his bodyguards to where the black
norimono
was bobbing into view around a bend in the track. Its bearers were grunting rhythmically in time with their steps as they jogged
-
‘yo-ho, yo-ho, yo
-
ho, yo-ho’
-
and he could see the tops of their turbaned heads as they bent forward, concentrating hard on their physical task. Looking up at either side of the ravine he saw that mist still clung to the slopes above, enveloping the track in a shroud of silence.
‘And this morning the
kami
of these hills are helping to protect their sacred homeland from the foreign barbarians added Yakamochi, allowing himself a rare smile. ‘Instead of the
kamikaze
“divine wind” that destroyed the Mongols, the weather gods have sent a “divine mist”. So the approach of our barbarian prisoner will remain concealed from all prying eyes until the very last moment. .
‘Yes, my lord, you’re right replied Sawara dutifully. ‘The
ka
m
i of
the hills have indeed favoured us
Yakamochi nodded slowly, peering down towards the bay again. The haze below was continuing to disperse and he was able to see that the line of American boats was nearing the beach.
‘What is more, the foreign barbarians are also cooperating perfectly,’ he said smugly to himself. ‘They are about to walk right into our trap...’