15

ROBERT EDEN scrambled the last few yards to the cliff top on all fours and raised his head cautiously to peer inland. To his amazement he found himself staring at the silhouette of a massive cannon drawn up close to the cliff edge, only twenty or thirty yards away. Its muzzle jutted seaward through a gap in canvas screens which were ten feet high, and he could see that two or three similar guns had been hauled into position further along the cliff top.
‘We’ve come up close to some important gun emplacements,’ breathed Eden, ducking hurriedly back below the lip of the cliff, to where Sentaro was crouching. ‘But there’s something very strange about them.’
‘What is it, master?’ whispered Sentaro apprehensively. ‘What’s strange?’
‘There are no gun crews. No troops! In fact I can’t see anybody at all.’
The Japanese castaway’s face betrayed the extreme unease he obviously felt. ‘What are we going to do then, master?’
‘We’re going to take a closer look at them!’
Eden scrambled quickly over the edge of the cliff, then leaned back to help the Japanese up in his turn, The cliff top was grassy and Eden mimed a silent instruction for them to ease forward through the darkness on their bellies, using their elbows and knees for propulsion. Eden reached the gun first, and the Japanese heard him let out an exclamation of surprise.
‘What have you found, master?’ asked Sentaro breathlessly, when he arrived at Eden’s side.
‘It’s not real!’ Eden shook his head in disbelief, and reached out again to stroke the gun with one hand. ‘Feel it! It’s made of wood. All these guns could be useless replicas . . . Wait here!’
Bent double, Eden dashed away towards the other guns, while Sentaro remained kneeling nervously beside the first one, watching his every move as best he could in the shadowy darkness. From the ship they had swum for nearly an hour before landing on a deserted beach three miles south-west of Uraga and Eden had led the way cautiously up the steep cliffs, taking no unnecessary risks. He had chosen their landing area with great care and they had eventually stepped ashore a mile from the nearest beacon fire. Its flames provided no more than a faint and distant glow and, because the newly risen crescent moon was not yet shedding much light on the land, they had the protection of near darkness in which to work. Eden was wearing the wide conical hat of woven sedge jammed down over his face, and in the borrowed Japanese cottons and straw sandals, Sentaro was relieved to see that he did not look too much out of place. When they landed he had strapped the pistol belt around his waist inside his shirt, concealing the holstered weapon, and his cutlass was still tied inconspicuously across his back. These precautions freed his limbs effectively for action and Sentaro watched admiringly as the American officer dashed swiftly from gun to gun in a crouching run. When he arrived back by the first gun, Eden’s face was triumphant.
‘I was right, Sentaro. All these guns are fakes! And the screens are not hiding anything except empty spaces. They’re just a cover-up for a severe shortage of weapons...!’
‘Watch out, master!’ Without warning the Japanese suddenly pulled Eden down behind the fake cannon and continued to stare past him, along the cliff.
‘What is it?’ whispered Eden. ‘What did you see?’
‘Sentries - two of them! Patrolling this way.’
Eden peered hard into the darkness and saw two figures silhouetted against the distant beacon fire. Carrying pikes, or perhaps muskets, on their shoulders they were only a hundred yards away, but their leisurely demeanour suggested they had not noticed any suspicious movement around the fake guns.
‘Let’s move quickly!’ commanded Eden, and ducked away in the opposite direction, to drop into a cliff top gully that ran inland. They sprinted hard for a few minutes, then Eden stopped and pulled the Japanese down beside him in a grassy hollow.
‘You did well, Sentaro,’ he gasped, struggling to recover his breath. ‘I was careless. Your alertness saved
The Japanese nodded and grinned shyly but said nothing.
‘But I was forgetting something very important,’ continued Eden in a whisper. ‘You’re on your home soil again now - I want you to know you’re free to return to your village if you wish.’
The Japanese stared around into the darkness, as though considering for the first time the full implications of being back in the country of his birth. But his apprehensive expression did not change and he shook his head several times in silence.
‘How does it make you feel?’ prompted Eden. ‘Do you want to change your mind?’
‘I will be executed, master, if they find out I was on the black ships! If I return to my home they will kill me for sure..
Eden patted his shoulder reassuringly. ‘Nobody need know you were on our ships. Don’t go home until all this excitement has died down. Find yourself a job as a fisherman for a few months - or work in the fields somewhere.’
Sentaro shook his head. ‘Everybody here is registered; everybody is watched by spies. It’s impossible to hide anywhere, so my safest home now is on the Susquehanna. Please let me stay and serve you, master
- and return to the ships when you do.’
Eden studied the face of the Japanese castaway for several moments, then he nodded emphatically. ‘All right, if you’re sure that’s what you really want.’
‘It is what I want, master!’
‘Good, Then follow me.’
Sentaro grinned with pleasure as they began to rise from the grassy hollow, but the soft shuffle of many marching feet became suddenly audible, and both men froze and dropped down again. The noise of the unseen marchers became louder and on raising his head Eden noticed that a narrow track, which led up the hillside from inland, snaked across the cliff top only a few yards from their hiding place.
As he watched, the heads and shoulders of the leading marchers rose into sight, followed by many others. Moving quietly in soft, thonged zóri, they advanced steadily towards Eden’s hiding place; when they drew nearer he saw that the column was corn- posed of fighting men who were carrying spears, longbows and ancient-looking muskets on their shoulders.
‘What shall we do, master?’ whispered Sentaro frantically. ‘They will pass very close to us.’
‘Lie face downward ordered Eden calmly, stretching himself full-length beside the Japanese in the bottom of the hollow. ‘And wait quietly until they pass.’
Eden pulled the cone-shaped hat down over his face and adjusted it so that the path would be visible through an inch-wide slit. As soon as the marching column came abreast of their hiding place, he held his breath and lay still. The armed men were carrying only a few lanterns, and to Eden’s relief their hollow remained in shadow as the front of the column moved past. Without stirring he found he could see the shuffling feet of the marchers passing a few yards away.
After a while he was emboldened to raise his head, and found he could identify ancient flintlock and matchlock muskets among the mixed batch of arms being carried by the column. He could see too that most of the men were wearing iron helmets and various forms of body armour made from bamboo, chain mail and leather. All the men marched silently in orderly, well-disciplined ranks, keeping in close step and listening carefully for new commands from their two-sworded samurai officers. It took ten minutes for the entire column to march past the hollow, and when at last he lifted himself on his elbows to watch its tail-end disappear into the darkness, Eden realized that the armed force was heading for the fake fort, where it would doubtless bivouac and form a garrison.
‘It’s like stepping backwards in time breathed Eden, half to himself, as he clambered out of the hollow and stood staring after the marchers. ‘Some of those weapons must be hundreds of years old.’
‘We were lucky, master murmured Sentaro, standing up beside him. ‘If they had seen us, we could both have been killed instantly. In peace or war the samurai warrior always follows his first instinct. He draws his sword and kills in a moment. No questions are ever asked . .
‘Then good fortune has presented us with new opportunities,’ said Eden softly, beckoning the Japanese to follow him. ‘Let’s make sure we don’t waste them.’
Sentaro followed Eden in silence as they skirted the makeshift fort and headed north, staying roughly parallel with the shoreline. There was enough light from the rising moon now for them to pick their way quickly through the clumps of scrub and woodland that covered the cliff top, but enough shadow too for them to hide themselves in good time whenever they encountered moving sentries or other soldiers.
After several minutes they came within sight of another fort that was being extended and reinforced. Small groups of bowmen and foot soldiers, clutching long spears and shields, were milling around a central group of flimsy wooden buildings. Other uniformed men were carrying small roundshot and kegs of powder out of the same buildings, and Eden could see that they were supplying half a dozen genuine cannon mounted at embrasures in the seaward earthworks. Similar low ramparts of packed earth surrounded the fort on its three landward sides, and hundreds of civilians - men, women and children dressed in dark cottons - scurried frantically back and forth carrying bouncing shoulder-poles from which baskets of earth were suspended. With unflagging energy they emptied the earth onto the ramparts, before hurrying back to collect more from an excavated gully two hundred yards away.
‘Let’s take a closer look: whispered Eden. ‘Keep low’
Hugging the shadows he led the way to the shelter of a grass hillock close enough to the fort for them to hear the grunting and muttering of the toiling Japanese as they unloaded their heavy burdens. Tugging his tiny, opera-glass binoculars from the pouch at his waist, Eden quickly examined the central buildings and the half-dozen cannons.
‘The magazine and the barracks are built of wood:
he whispered incredulously, ducking down again. ‘One direct hit would finish the entire fort. And their guns are no bigger than nine-pounders. They couldn’t even reach our ships from here.’
‘Our defences have not been well prepared.’ Sentaro nodded towards some nearby pole-carriers. ‘These people are all grumbling. Fishermen, farmers, their wives and children - everybody has been pressed into service to rebuild the fort.’
‘What else are they saying?’ asked Eden, raising his head again to look cautiously over the hillock.
‘They say that for many centuries our ancestral gods protected us from foreign ships. But they think our rulers have now become careless and inefficient.
They say the people of Yedo are terrified that they may starve if the foreign ships block the bay for long...’
‘Look: said Eden, suddenly pointing towards the earthworks. ‘There are some spare carrying-poles lying on the ground. We can join in the work. We’ll be able to learn more.’
‘No, master, that’s too dangerous. . .‘ began Sentaro in alarm, but Eden had already bounded from their hiding place, tugging his conical hat down over his face, and was scrambling over the earth rampart.
Within moments he had snatched up a carrying- pole, untangled its rope-matting baskets, and hoisted it to his shoulder. Without looking back he set off at an easy lope towards the excavation gully where the Japanese civilians were digging for fresh earth. Reluctantly Sentaro hurried after him, gathering up a carrying-pole in his turn. By the time he caught up, the American was staggering slightly under the weight of two huge loads of earth and heading back towards the fort.
‘Follow me,’ hissed Eden in Japanese, nodding towards one of the gun embrasures. ‘There are some officers in conversation over there. Let’s drop our earth nearby.’
Sentaro quickly filled his baskets and hurried after him. When they reached the earthworks facing the sea, Eden edged as close as he dared to the open gun embrasure, beside which five or six red-cloaked samurai officers were arguing heatedly. Struggling to the top of the rampart, he began to unload his first basket slowly with his hands, without appearing to look directly at the group of men below him. At the same time he gestured discreetly for Sentaro to climb up beside him.
‘They seem to be angry,’ murmured Eden after listening to the raised voices for two or three minutes. ‘I think they’ve been ordered by their daimyo not to undertake any aggressive moves for fear of provoking an invasion.’
‘Yes, master,’ whispered Sentaro. ‘Some of these men are complaining that they have pleaded for permission to attack the barbarian ships. But they have been forbidden to do so. They say the bakufu - the Shogun’s government - is frightened that if they provoke the foreign barbarians, they will invade Nippon and occupy the whole country. They fear we will become colonial slaves, like the Chinese. ..‘
‘What special commands have been issued?’ whispered Eden, as he emptied out his second basket. ‘Did you hear?’
‘The strictest orders forbid all gunfire,’ replied Sentaro. ‘These men have been instructed that no matter how insolent the foreign barbarians become, there must be no use of firearms. “Bloody incidents”, say the orders, are to be avoided at all costs. .
‘I heard them complaining that ammunition is very scarce, too,’ breathed Eden. ‘They do seem very dissatisfied.’
Sentaro nodded, busily spreading the earth from his own baskets along the top of the rampart. ‘They have only ten rounds for each of these cannon. And it is the same at all the other forts. One of them claimed some of his guns are so old he is afraid to fire them.’
‘It’s clear we have nothing to fear from any of their weapons,’ murmured Eden, lifting his carrying- pole and the empty baskets to his shoulder again. Still squatting on top of the earthwork, he glanced cautiously from beneath the brim of his wide hat towards the group of samurai officers below. They were still talking animatedly, and Eden’s eyes narrowed in concentration when he heard another reference to the kurufune - the ‘black ships’ anchored in the bay.
‘I’m told that the barbarians on the black ships made it clear to our officials that they are determined to fight,’ said one officer with explosive vehemence. ‘It’s rumoured that the bakufu are trembling at the knees, and will agree to anything even receiving the barbarian letter to His Imperial Majesty here instead of at Nagasaki. .
‘How soon will we be ready to receive it?’ demanded another officer.
‘Perhaps three or four days from now,’ replied the first officer. ‘They are trying to delay as much as possible.’
‘Why?’
‘Because they can think of nothing better to do...’
‘Did you understand that, master?’ asked Sentaro in an excited whisper, scrambling up beside Eden with his pole and empty baskets. ‘They say it is rumoured that your President’s letter will be accepted.’
‘Yes, I understood: replied Eden, placing a calming hand on Sentaro’s shoulder. ‘Go steady. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.’
Despite the warning, some small clods of earth disturbed by the castaway cascaded down the inner bank of the rampart and one of the samurai officers, noticing the movement from the corner of his eye, turned in their direction. Ducking to conceal their faces, they swung away to scramble down from the earthwork out of sight; but something in their manner had aroused the officer’s suspicion and he barked out a sharp order.
‘Wait! What are you doing?’
After hesitating for a moment Sentaro turned back and mumbled a response. ‘If it pleases you, sire, we were enlarging the fortification as ordered.’
‘No work was ordered on this section tonight,’ snapped the samurai. ‘These ramparts were finished yesterday.’
‘Our apologies, sire: stammered Sentaro. ‘We misunderstood our instructions. We will go now to work on another section.’
Eden had already slithered halfway down the inner bank and he tugged at Sentaro’s sleeve, urging him to follow The castaway bowed hurriedly towards the samurai, then stumbled down the slope behind the American.
‘Stop!’ roared the officer. ‘You must have been eavesdropping.’ He waved forward half a dozen men who had been standing guard nearby with spears and shields. ‘Restrain those two for questioning!’
Eden grabbed Sentaro’s arm and pulled him bodily down the slope into the fort. ‘Run as fast as you can,’ he ordered in a fierce whisper, pointing towards the central arsenal. ‘There are a few cavalry horses tethered by the ammunition stores.’
They hurled aside their carrying-poles and rushed headlong towards the group of wooden buildings. Because the pursuing pikemen were encumbered by their long weapons and their shields, they were unable to move quickly and they began shouting and gesticulating for others to help cut off the fleeing pair. Alerted by these cries, other members of the garrison began to give chase.
‘We can’t escape, master,’ gasped Sentaro, looking about in despair. ‘We’re surrounded!’
‘Keep running!’ urged Eden, still clutching his arm. ‘If we can reach the horses, we can get clear.’
He increased his pace, forcing Sentaro along with him, and the shouts of the pikemen grew louder on realizing that they were heading towards the half dozen horses tethered beside the magazine.
‘Ride straight over the bank at the rear of the fort: gasped Eden. ‘Don’t make for any of the gates or you’ll be stopped. .
Disturbed by the growing commotion, the short, sturdy horses were already tossing their heads and straining at the tethers when Eden reached them. Because their pursuers were closing fast, he reached behind his shoulder to snatch his cutlass from its makeshift sheath of sailcloth. With a flurry of quick slashes he cut free all six horses and urged Sentaro into the saddle of one of them.
‘Go!’ he yelled in Japanese, slapping the horse’s rump sharply with the flat of his sword. ‘I’ll catch you up.’
As the startled animal shot away, with Sentaro clinging frantically to its mane, Eden flung himself onto a second horse, still clutching the reins of two other mounts in his free hand. The shouts of the armed men closing in all around were loud in his ears as he dug his heels fiercely into the animal’s sides and turned its head towards the rear rampart.
‘Stop, I command you,’ shouted one breathless pikeman, hurling himself into the horse’s path, with his pike raised in both hands. ‘Stop and dismount!’
Yelling an unintelligible battle cry of his own, Eden tried to swerve his own horse and the two he was leading past the yelling footsoldier. But the pikeman dropped to one knee and swung his weapon towards them with furious energy. The heavy axe-shaped side blade sheared through the neck of Eden’s mount, decapitating it at a stroke and, as the animal collapsed beneath him, Eden plunged heavily to the ground. One of the two spare horses broke free and bolted, squealing with fear, but Eden clung fiercely to the reins of the other and struggled to his feet beside it, brandishing his cutlass defensively in front of him. The broad hat of woven sedge had been knocked off in the fall and, as he stood defiantly bare-headed beside the horse, the lanterns carried by those closing in all around him illuminated his tall, broad-shouldered figure, his brown hair and pale Anglo-Saxon features.
For a second or two there was a strained silence; nobody spoke and nobody moved as the circle of armed men stared disbelievingly at the first foreign barbarian they had ever seen. Only six feet away, the pikeman who had brought him down stood rooted to the spot, holding his bloodied weapon uncertainly in front of him.
‘Shu-i!’ he grunted at last, when he found his voice. ‘Hideous, alien!’
‘Banzoku!’ growled a second man. ‘Barbarian bandit!’
‘Kill the banzoku!’ yelled a third voice - and others immediately took up the cry.
‘No! Let’s take him alive!’ urged the soldier with the bloodstained pike. After a moment of hesitation he began moving warily towards Eden again.
The American officer calmly retrieved his hat as he watched the pikeman approach - then with a cry he sprang into the saddle of the remaining horse. Swirling his sword above his head Eden kicked his mount into action, this time riding straight at the pikeman. The Japanese began to step aside, and lifted his pike in both hands to make another thrust at horse and rider. But Eden was upon him quickly, and he parried the threatened blow so fiercely with his blade that the pike’s wooden shaft broke clean in two.
Riding furiously, Eden set the horse at the earthwork embankment, and sped up and over it without looking back. Shouts of rage grew in volume behind him as the horse slithered down the outer bank and he heard voices begin chanting ‘Shu-i’ and ‘Banzoku’ in unison as the soldiers began to give chase. At the foot of the bank Eden could at first see no sign of Sentaro, but to his delight the castaway emerged suddenly from a clump of nearby trees and galloped towards him.
‘Which way shall we go?’ demanded Eden urgently, as the sounds of shouting drew nearer to the embankment above them.
‘I’m not sure, master said t1e Japanese. ‘But whichever way we go, we must go quickly!’
Glancing up, Eden saw that the light of the rising moon was strengthening. In that split second he also caught sight of something else: in the far distance, above the trees, the shimmering peak of Mount Fuji had become faintly visible, glowing palely against the darkness of the night sky.
‘We’ll try this way he cried impulsively, spurring his horse onto a track that led through the trees in the direction of the sacred volcano,. ‘Follow me!’