Tokyo Bay (46 page)

m
ander, and he was led respectfully to a place of concealment inside the high, curved prow. By the time the boat had cast off from the bank, Tanaka was fully dressed once more in
his jimbaori,
armour and a horned helmet. Standing with his feet astride on the narrow bridge, he watched the crew row Eden swiftly away towards the sea, aided by the fast current. The nobleman made no gesture, but continued to watch the boat in silence until
it
disappeared from view round a bend in the stream.
As soon as
it
went out of sight, however, Tanaka leapt into his saddle and urged
Gotaro
and his guards to mount up. ‘We must ride fast now to the pavilion,’ he called over his shoulder as he set off rapidly in the direction of the beach. ‘Lord Daizo and his warriors will already be there!’

SAMUEL ARMSTRONG
paused in his formal reading of the American letters and carefully turned over the last sheet of vellum in his hands. Raising his eyes, he glanced round the hushed pavilion, and saw that Commodore Perry had become as stiffly immobile on his seat as the two imperial princes opposite him. His jaw jutted pugnaciously above his uniform’s high collar and he stared stonily ahead, clutching the hilt of his sword with one hand as he listened to the missionary’s rendering in English of the last few lines of his own letter addressed to the Emperor of Japan.
‘Our admiral further states: “American commerce with all this region of the globe is rapidly increasing and the Japan seas will soon be covered with our vessels,” said Armstrong, enunciating his words slowly and clearly. “With the aid of our steamships we can reach. Japan in eighteen or twenty days. Therefore, as the United States and Japan are becoming every day nearer and nearer to each other, the President desires to live in peace and friendship with Your Imperial Majesty
-
but, as it has already been pointed out, no friendship can long exist unless Japan ceases to act towards Americans as if they were her enemies. However wise this policy may originally have been, it is unwise and impracticable now that contact between the two countries is so much more easy and rapid than before.”
Armstrong paused and waited while Haniwara Tokuma, working from a Dutch text, provided a nervy rendition into Japanese. His delivery had become increasingly staccato and unsteady, and Armstrong noticed that, in between the passages of translation, he had begun to glance up repeatedly towards the pavilion entrance. The chanting which had broken out in the distance had now died away but, while it lasted, it had heightened the atmosphere of tension within the pavilion. As a result, in the intervals of silence between the translations, the expressions of
Japanese and Americans alike remained alert and watchful, suggesting that they were listening for further unusual sounds from outside.
‘The admiral concludes his letter with great clarity,’ continued Armstrong, glancing down at the parchment once more. ‘1-le says: “In my capacity as commander-in-chief of the United States naval forces in the East India, China and Japan seas, I set out these arguments in the hope that the Japanese government will see the necessity of averting an unfriendly collision between our two nations. To do this, they need only respond favourably to the propositions of amity which are now made in all sincerity Many of the large ships
-
of-war destined to visit Japan have not yet arrived in these seas. As evidence of our friendly intentions we have brought but four smaller ships, designing, should it become necessary, to return to Yedo in the spring with a much larger force. But it is expected that the government of Your Imperial Majesty will render such a return unnecessary, by acceding at once to the very reasonable and pacific overtures contained in the President’s letter. . . With the most profound respect for Your Imperial Majesty; and entertaining a sincere hope that you may long live to enjoy health and happiness, the undersigned sub scribes himself Matthew Ca
l
braith Perry:”
Armstrong watched tensely as Ha
ni
wara Tokuma began to translate again, but before he had gone very far there was a stirring at the entrance to the pavilion. The missionary looked up in time to see the glowering figure of Lord Daizo step silently inside, accompanied by an equally dark-faced young Japanese wearing the travel-stained armour of a samurai beneath a nobleman’s red
jimbaori.
The demeanour of both men was tense and hostile, and Haniwara Tokuma stumbled again over his words as he lifted his head to dart an uneasy glance in their direction. After a moment he recovered himself and Armstrong saw Lord Daizo and his companion shift to a position from which they could be seen clearly by the interpreter.
As soon as the translation ended, the Governor of Uraga rose and stepped respectf
u
lly towards the grave, impassive figure of Prince Toda. In front of the prince’s stool he suddenly prostrated himself full- length, pressed his forehead to the red carpet, and remained in this position of absolute homage for several seconds. Feeling his own anxiety mounting, Armstrong moved unobtrusively to the side of the Japanese interpreter and leaned close to his ear.
‘What is happening, Haniwara-san?’ asked the missionary in an urgent whisper. ‘Is His Excellency about to deliver your receipt to the admiral?’
‘Yes: replied the Japanese in a frantic undertone. ‘I have a translation for you...’ He paused, took a text in Dutch from his sleeve, and handed
it
over. ‘Now, please return to your place.’
‘I wish to help you avert a disaster,’ whispered Armstrong, glancing at the translation and pretending to point enquiringly to something on the page. ‘What must you do to unleash the attack?’
The Japanese caught his breath and looked up with a haunted expression in his eyes. Then his face clenched suddenly and some dam of inner reserve gave way, broken at last by the heavy burden of fear he had nursed alone for so long. ‘When given a signal, I should strike the trapdoor three times with my foot he whispered hoarsely. ‘I
must
do it.’
‘Where’s the trapdoor?’ hissed Armstrong, pointing to his translation again, but glancing desperately around the pavilion. ‘Where exactly is it?’
‘Behind the red chest: murmured the Japanese, bending forward to make a show of looking more closely at Armstrong’s sheet of paper. ‘It’s very near to your admiral’s sea
t
The governor had raised himself from the carpet but was still kneeling deferentially with his head bowed, in a waiting posture. Very slowly, without otherwise moving, Prince Toda pulled a scroll from one of the deep sleeves of his gown and handed
it
wordlessly to the governor. After prostrating himself once more, the official rose and backed slowly away from the First Counsellor of the Empire, bowing repeatedly at each step. Finally, at a distance, he turned and began to cross the pavilion towards Commodore Perry carrying the scroll which was bound with an imperial yellow ribbon. As he watched-him go, Armstrong glanced quickly towards the pavilion entrance and saw Lord Daizo staring hard at Haniwara Tokuma, as though willing him to look in his direction.
‘I will go and stand on the trapdoor myself and block the way,’ whispered Armstrong, making a sudden decision. ‘Then you’ll be unable to reach
it
to give the order to attack!’
The Japanese interpreter’s eyes grew suddenly - round. ‘No! No! Please don’t, Armstrong-san! If you do, you could be the first to die!’
Armstrong felt a sudden chill of fear deep inside his bowels and he hesitated; then he noticed that a glimmer of hope had appeared in the stricken eyes of the Japanese interpreter. ‘It’s only right I should take some risk myself after all this time,’ muttered the missionary and moved off towards the lacquered chest, trying to make his action seem casual.
Walking very slowly, Armstrong paused before the chest and looked over the formal documents and their containers, as though assuring himself that every last formality had been complied with. Then he stepped sideways and shuffled back a pace or two, clearing his throat and glancing down at his translation of the imperial receipt. Noticing for the first time the seams in the floor-covering which defined the trapdoor, he took a deep breath and stepped squarely onto one end of it as if he was seeking a less obtrusive standpoint from which to observe the rest of the proceedings. Watching the governor begin to prostrate himself in front of Commodore Perry, Armstrong steeled himself not to look towards Lord Daizo, and at the same time he tried not to think about the hidden cohort of armed warriors waiting to spring into action a few feet beneath the soles of his boots.
‘What is being presented now,
Mr.
Armstrong, please?’ asked Flag Lieutenant Rice suddenly as the governor straightened up from his prostration and offered the parchment respectfully to Commodore Perry.
‘This is the imperial receipt for our Presidential letter,’ replied the missionary hastily, lifting the paper in his hand into view. ‘I’ve been given this translation in Dutch, which I shall read out in a moment. It’s quite in order for the commodore to accept it.’
The throne borrowed from the Buddhist temple creaked in the silence as Perry leaned down stiffly to accept the scroll from the governor’s hand. Once he had taken it, the governor lowered his face to the floor once more, then rose and backed away, bowing at each step until he had resumed his place beside his own interpreter on the opposite side of the pavilion. Haniwara Tokuma’s hands were shaking as he lifted his translation into view and began to read it aloud; but it was also noticeable that he no longer allowed his attention to stray to the pavilion entrance, where Lord Daizo and his son still stood staring fixedly at him.
‘The imperial receipt states that the letter of the American President is “hereby received and will be delivered to the Emperor”: said Armstrong, glancing up from his text towards Commodore Perry; who was looking enquiringly in his direction. ‘It further says, “Many times it has been communicated to you that business relating to foreign countries cannot be transacted here in the Bay of Yedo but only in Naga-said. However,
it
being observed that the admiral, in his capacity as ambassador of the American President, would be insulted by these arrangements, the justice of this has therefore been acknowledged. Consequently the above-mentioned letter is hereby received on this day and at this place, Kurihama, although such acceptance is quite contrary to the general laws of Japan.”
Armstrong paused in his reading
t
o
look up, and saw Commodore Perry nod haughtily in acknowledging that he had succeeded in forcing an unprecedented concession from his reluctant hosts. The commanders of the
Susquehanna
and the
Mississippi,
who were seated close behind, also leaned forward to nod and murmur approvingly. From the corner of his eye, however, Armstrong saw Lord Daizo move a pace or two further into the pavilion, so as to become directly visible to Haniwara Tokuma. Seeing this convinced Armstrong that a moment of crisis was approaching, and he looked down quickly again at his translation.
‘There’s one last paragraph, Commodore: he said in a more urgent tone. ‘And it’s very brief and to the point. It says simply: “Because this is not a place where negotiations can be conducted with foreigners, neither a conference nor any entertainment can be permitted. Therefore as the letter has been received, you will now leave here immediately.”
Perry bristled on his seat. Then he frowned and turned to confer in a confidential undertone with his two commanders. At that moment Armstrong looked up towards the entrance of the pavilion and saw Lord Daizo lift his right hand slowly across his body to clasp his left shoulder in a deliberate gesture; he had already fixed his hostile gaze on Haniwara Tokuma, and the missionary knew instinctively he was seeing the prearranged signal being made. Inside his chest his heart began to throb wildly, and he held his breath as he watched for the interpreter’s response.
For a long time Haniwara seemed to stare back at the
daimyo,
as though hypnotized. He did not move but Armstrong could see that his hands, which still clutched the translation of the imperial receipt, were shaking more than ever. Then abruptly he turned to look towards the American missionary; his expression was agonized and beseeching in the same moment, and his eyes burned with a terrible indecision. Wondering what he would do if the interpreter decided to rush towards the trapdoor and push him aside by physical force, Armstrong felt sweat break out on his own brow. He was trying wordlessly to convey encouragement and compassion in equal measure to the Japanese as he looked steadily back at him but, fearing he was not being successful, he began to pray desperately inside his head.
The indistinct murmur of the commodore’s voice merging with those of his senior officers was the only sound to break the strained silence in the pavilion, and all eyes were focused intently on them. Nobody but Armstrong was aware of the terrible battle of wills being fought out silently by the
daimyo
and the scholarly interpreter, and only the missionary witnessed the decisive moment when the struggle was lost and won. Outwardly the appearance of the interpreter scarcely changed; his face remained very pale but Armstrong noticed that a curious calmness seemed to descend upon him as he turned again in the direction of the
daimyo
with a new sense of resolution evident in his bearing. His eyes were lowered, and the missionary saw that he did not raise his head to challenge Lord Daizo directly; but his determined defiance of the nobleman’s intimidation was silently and unmistakably expressed in the total immobility of his small, slender body.
As the moments ticked by, Lord Daizo had become visibly more impatient, but Armstrong saw his face darken suddenly with rage when he recognized the interpreter’s defiance for what
it
was. Dropping his right arm to his side, he lifted
it
very deliberately across his chest in a last, furious repetition of the secret signal, while glaring anew at the interpreter, willing him to obey. But, instead of reacting, Haniwara Tokuma slowly turned his back on the
daimyo
and glanced towards the governor who was standing at his side, making
it
clear he was patiently awaiting the instructions of his immediate superior.
For a moment Lord Daizo stared across the
pavilion
with an expression of outright disbelief on his face. Then Armstrong saw him lean angrily towards his son and whisper urgent orders in his ear. While listening, Yakamochi glanced towards Commodore Perry and the other senior American officers who, in defiance of the order they had been given to leave, were still conferring in low voices. Yakamochi’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he listened, suggesting to Armstrong that he was memori