Tokyo Bay (48 page)

IN HIS TINY AFT
cabin above the
Susquehanna’s
rudder, Samuel Armstrong bent low over his makeshift writing table, hurrying to complete a concluding entry in his journal. Neither the rumble of the flagship’s steering mechanism nor the noisy churning of its great paddle-wheels interrupted his concentration as his right hand worked a quill pen rapidly back and forth across the pages of the large folio notebook. Through an open rear scuttle, the sloop-of-war
Saratoga
was visible gliding silently in the flagship’s wake at the end of a towing hawser, its sails furled neatly on their yard-arms. Astern of the
Saratoga,
to port, the
Mississippi
could also be seen, towing the
Plymouth
with similar ease, and all four ships were proceeding at a majestic nine knots down the centre of Yedo Bay, heading for the open sea and Hong Kong, Canton and Shanghai.
Carefully maintaining regimented distances between themselves, the war vessels were giving a final demonstration of the unprecedented power of steam to the thousands of
Japanese civilians and soldiers lining the cliffs and beaches. It was the early morning of Sunday 17 July 1853, and no breeze was yet ruffling the flat, shimmering waters of the bay. Because of this, the crews of becalmed Japanese fishing junks, in particular, were watching in awe as the great black warships passed southward, belching spirals of thick smoke and leaving wide paths of churned white water in their wake. Hundreds of heavily laden boats rowed by standing oarsmen were putting out from the beaches too, carrying peasants and townsmen who were eager to catch a last glimpse of the fearsome foreign barbarians and their all- powerful machines.
After the ships weighed anchor five miles above Uraga, Armstrong had stood quietly watching these crowded boats from the rail of the quarterdeck. At first he had felt an immense sense of relief that the squadron was departing from
Japan and all its dangers, after ten long days of tension. He was greatly relieved too that his demanding role as interpreter, which had given rise to so many conf
l
icting inner feelings, was finished
-
at least for the moment. But, to his dismay, quietness of mind otherwise eluded him and he had soon hurried back to his cabin to try to order his racing thoughts in his journal.
He wrote furiously for several minutes, then something made him raise his head from his task, as the
Susquehanna
swung its bows a degree or two eastwards in adjusting its course down the bay. The western shore became temporarily visible through the rear scuttle, and Armstrong was struck afresh by the beauty of the undulating green hills and the manicured rice terraces sweeping gently down to the beaches above Uraga. Steep, bare mountains were becoming visible far off and then, as though
it
had silently signalled its presence in advance, the thrillingly symmetrical snow-capped cone of Mount Fuji materialized silently from a long rift of white cloud, to stand supreme above the morning landscape.
The volcano’s broad base was shrouded in low cloud as usual, and its purple-blue flanks and dazzling white summit again seemed to float unsupported in the distant heavens. Seeing the vision-like mountain had always pleased the missionary before, but now the sudden sight of
it
caused him to stop writing and he laid his pen aside. Standing up, he went to the open scuttle and stared pensively out. Unexpectedly, the simple purity of the mountain’s beauty soothed his anxious mind to some degree, and he watched
it
unwaveringly until the flagship adjusted its course again and robbed him of his view of the western shore. Feeling calmer as a result, he returned to his table, but instead of making further notes, he sat down and slowly read over the several pages he had already filled with neat, methodical handwriting.

My greatest joy of the last three days was the discovery, on re-embarking from Kurihama, that Robert Eden had returned mysteriously to the flagship during our absence,
he had written.
It seemed to me then that my most fervent prayers had been answered on at least two fronts. A major conflict had been narrowly avoided onshore and the brave young New England lieutenant had been miraculously restored to the ship alive, after being missing for seven days. My joy of course was quickly tempered by the discovery that Lieutenant Eden had been gravely wounded, and this morning he’s still fighting f
o
r his l
i
fe on the lower deck in a special partitioned-off area of the ship
’s
infirmary. He had collapsed on the starboard companion-ladder after being delivered to its foot by an anonymous Japanese craft, and had to be carried bodily below by two startled sentries. At present, three sailors armed with carbines and cutlasses are standing guard twenty-four hours a day around his special sick berth, which adjoins the ship’s prison. This arrangement has been made because strict orders had long since been given that he should be placed promptly under close arrest f he ever set foot on the ship again. From Flag Lieutenant Rice I’ve since learned that the wounded lieutenant has given only a sketchy outline of what happened to him, and no information at all is being given out on this. If he recovers, he’ll face a court martial on desertion charges. The outcome will surely be a spell of imprisonment and the termination of his promising navy career.

Armstrong stopped reading, feeling a new surge of admiration and compassion for Eden. The young officer had clearly known what enormous risks he was taking with his life and his future when he struck out bravely from the ship. In comparison Armstrong suddenly felt that his own action of buckling on the first sword of his life, so that he did not have to go ashore conspicuously unarmed, had been doubly timid and unworthy, and he shook his head in a little gesture of self-disgust before returning his attention to his journal once more.

To make matters worse, Eden developed a high fever after the ship’s surgeons operated on his head and leg wounds, The crisis point of the fever passed only late yesterday, and he’s still said to be very weak from pain and loss of blood. I’ve sent repeated messages both to Eden hims4f and to the surgeons, offering to visit and minister spiritually or otherwise to him
-
but so far I’ve received no response. All of this has illogically made me feel more uneasy than ever about my own role in the dramatic events of the last ten days. Robert Eden followed his peaceful convictions, risking all. But, despite my growing distaste for what I’ve been doing, I’ve continued to play a leading role as an accessory in these naked acts of armed intimidatio
n
. I can only hope that my secret efforts to help Haniwara Tokuma resist intimidation may have compensated in some small way. Whether that was so or not, I haven’t really succeeded in mod
i
fying our latent hostility to the Japanese in any meaningful way
.

Armstrong again broke off from re-reading the journal entry remembering how Commodore Perry had been stung by the final undiplomatic words of the imperial receipt that had been handed to him at the ceremonial pavilion:
‘Your President’s letter having been received, you will now leave here.’
His response, on returning to his flagship, had been to order all four warships to advance ten miles nearer to Yedo, sailing spectacularly in line abreast and taking visible depth soundings as they went. Later a dozen cutters were launched to make further soundings inshore, and when the alarmed and breathless Governor of Uraga had eventually caught up and come aboard to ask why the squadron was not departing as demanded, Armstrong himself had been directed to tell him that safer anchorages were being sought and planned for the much bigger squadron of warships that would return in a few months to receive the Emperor’s response. Next day the commodore had transferred his pennant to the
Mississippi,
and sailed the steam frigate ten miles further up the bay, demonstrating with an unmistakable hostility that the American ships were capable of advancing to areas within cannon shot of the capital itself.
During intervals in this activity, the governor and his suite of officials had artfully been allowed aboard the
Susquehanna.
There had been no sign of Ha
ni
wara Tokuma and the governor had pointedly evaded all Armstrong’s questions about his welfare, saying merely that he was ‘resting from his duties’. Another interpreter had taken his place and the governor had remained invariably polite and gracious, despite the atmosphere of high tension created by the provocative manoeuvrings of the warships. After a lot of thought, Armstrong himself had decided to say nothing, for the time being, of what he knew about the intrigues and infighting that had surrounded events at Kurihama, in case they introduced new tensions into the remaining meetings. Before the squadron’s departure, the whole Japanese delegation had twice been entertained with wines and whisky as well as ham and other American delicacies, which they had swallowed with great relish. They had also been shown the engines and all the ship’s weapons, which had clearly fascinated them. The new interpreter had conveyed endless questions from the visiting officials and, to the surprise of the watching Americans, he had taken meticulous notes about the dimensions and methods of manufacture of the guns and the engine machinery
There had also been a final impromptu exchange of modest gifts
-
American seeds and history books in return for Japanese fans, lacquered bowls and pipes. But Armstrong, as he had noted in his journal, had been unable to overlook the hypocrisy inherent in all this outward civility that had been offered side by side with the hostile and threatening deployment of the warships.

The real truth behind these moves was summed up quite blatantly by Commodore Perry
himself
last night,
he had written.
The commodore said then on the quarterdeck in my hearing that the Japanese ‘could only be brought to reason through the influence of their fears’! He also said he was confident that when they
fully realized that their sea coast was entirely at the mercy of a strong naval force, ‘they will concede all that will be asked of them’. Although the United States Congress alone has the power to declare war, and certainly has not done so over Japan, there have been times in the past ten days when an effective local declaration of war by the commodore has been implicit in all his actions
-
and I, to my great regret, have gone on aiding and abetting all this, despite my growing reservations. Japan has at last broken its own code of selfish exclusion to obey the universal law of hospitality,’ said another senior officer last night
-
but my Christian conscience won’t accept now that it is right to enforce such a ‘universal law of hospitality’ with sixty-four
pound guns
….
.

Armstrong broke off from his reading, feeling again with renewed force the inherent flaws in the arguments that were being used to justify the US Navy squadron’s actions. He wondered why he had not seen these flaws more clearly earlier in the voyage; then he realized that he had in fact been vaguely aware all along that his attitude was ambivalent. In the end, he decided, he had probably chosen subconsciously to ignore the more uncomfortable contradictions and with this shaming thought he returned to the concluding lines in his journal.

I suppose in truth Robert Eden had youth on his side in acting so bravely and decisively. Perhaps I couldn’t really expect
myself
to be as fiercely uncompromising after long years spent. trying to reconcile the many impossible conflicts between d
iff
erent rel
i
gions. Perhaps compromise has long since become a way of life for me; perhaps that’s what experience teaches; perhaps that’s the great lesson of maturity that everybody must learn as they grow older. Or maybe not! Maybe in some situations, compromise is a
form of cowardice of which we should be ashamed; important principles should never be compromised! M
ig
ht the world be a better place
if
there
w
ere more purer, braver spirits
-
more Robert Edens
-
among us? His superiors, quite rightly, will say that, by rashly taking matters into his own hands without authority, he increased the risk of war and courted disaster for us all. But Eden, no doubt, would say in response that the actions of his superiors were wrong
-
and that he was trying to mitigate their effects. Whatever the a
n
swers to all these questions are, I hope in the years to come the Japanese won’t smoulder with resentment over this hostile first approach by America, in which I’ve been so closely involved. They would certainly have every right to do so. I can only humbly pray that God will intervene compassionately to help end Japan’s
self-imposed
isolation
-
and draw her people into fellowship with the rest of the world without a violent and bloody collision.

A crisp knock on the door of his cabin interrupted Armstrong’s reading and when he rose to open it, he found Midshipman Harris standing stiffly to attention on the threshold.
‘Flag Lieutenant Rice presents his compliments,
Mr.
Armstrong,’ said the midshipman, saluting briskly. ‘And I’m to tell you that your request to visit Lieutenant Eden has been granted.’
‘Excellent!’ exclaimed the missionary in surprise. ‘Does that mean the lieutenant is out of danger?’
Harris shook his head quickly, his face serious. ‘I’m afraid not, sir. If anything he may be a little worse. The surgeons say his chances are something less than fifty
-
fifty
‘Is that why I’m being taken to him now?’ asked Armstrong quickly.
‘No, sir. I understand Lieutenant Eden himself has asked for you to make the visit.’
The missionary’s face clouded anew with anxiety ‘So when may I see him?’
‘I’m ordered to escort you there immediately, sir,’ replied the young midshipman. ‘Please follow me.’