Authors: Anthony Grey
Tags: #Politics and government, #United States Naval Expedition to Japan; 1852-1854, #Historical, #Tokyo Bay (Japan), #(1852-1854), #1600-1868, #Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), #Fiction, #Historical fiction, #English fiction, #Japan, #United States Naval Expedition to Japan, #Historical & Mythological Fiction
u
ggle in the snow, made him cry out and he slowed to a hobble. A wave of dizziness swept through him, and he heard a new outbreak of shouting from behind; the voices grew louder, as though they were moving rapidly down the mountain, and although he did not look round he guessed the clamour meant he had been spotted from the ridge and more Makabe warriors were setting off in pursuit. Another fit of dizziness made him stagger suddenly, and he knew then that his hopes of escape were forlorn.
The two samurai despatched by Yakamochi had now reached the inert form of Sentaro, and something in the quick decisiveness of their movements made Eden’s blood suddenly run cold. One of them had drawn his sword and he took up a careful stance with his feet apart at the very edge of the side crater. The other warrior squatted quickly, hauled Sentaro’s limp body to its knees, and dragged
it
forward. The arrow which had felled him still jutted from his back and the castaway’s head hung down on his chest, suggesting he was not fully conscious of what was happening. The sword swung once through a deadly arc and Eden watched in horror as the kneeling samurai rose to his feet, lifted the headless trunk of Sentaro’s body and tossed
it
casually over the rim of the crater in its turn. The two warriors stood looking down into the scorched abyss for only a brief instant before turning away to retrace their steps up the mountain.
Eden realized then that he had stopped in his tracks, to witness this moment of horror. The two samurai executioners caught sight of him for the first time as they began to jog-trot back up the snowy slope, and in that moment Eden plucked his cutlass from his belt and began moving down towards them
at
a stumbling run. Another primitive battle roar, in which grief and rage were mingled equally, burst from him and he brandished his weapon wildly above his head as he ran on. Ignoring the fierce pain from the thigh wound, he fixed his agonized gaze on the two surprised swordsmen, his mind emptied of everything except a blind urge to avenge the brutality and humiliation of Sentaro’s death. He fell to his knees twice in the deep snow, but scrambled up each time and struggled on, oblivious to all except the two executioners who stood watching calmly from the foot of the slope.
Although the shouting from behind him had grown louder, Eden seemed not to hear it, and when his leading pursuer drew close enough to aim a blow at his head, he did not turn. The sickening impact of the sword, when
it
fell, spun him around but his eyes saw only the glittering peak of the volcano. His arms flew wide, his own sword spun away into the darkness, and his hands seemed to reach up as they had done in his dream towards the heavens and its countless stars.
As he sank onto the snow, the stuff of which the starlit night was made seemed to tumble easily into his hands like glistening silk, and he wound
it
softly around his body, luxuriating in the sudden feeling of ease and relief it brought him. Then another blade smashed sickeningly against the side of his head, and the millions of stars exploded in a blinding flash of white light. In the same instant the mountain, along with everything else, dissolved into a cold, silent void.
PART IV
The Black Ships Land
12
-
17 July 1853
As the dramatic summer days of mid-July 1853 ticked by, the American sailors watching from the US warships in Yedo Bay sometimes relieved their growing tension by poking fun at the antiquated defence works that were becoming ever more visible on the shore. ‘Another dungaree fort’s gone up, sir,’ lookouts would cry jestingly as new lengths of coloured canvas screening were erected to conceal further contingents of Japanese fighting men clad in medieval combat costumes. The banners, pennants and insignia under which the Japanese were gathering did indeed look more like the decorations for a jousting tourney in King Arthur’s England than preparations for modern nineteenth-century wa
r
fare. Their outdatedness helped confirm prevailing American feelings of superiority
-
but the two and a ha
l
f centuries of s4f-imposed feudal isolation which those trappings symbolized had in fact been of vital importance for Japan. During a crucial historical period when European nations had begun to colonize and control vast areas of Asia, this fiercely guarded seclusion had helped the Japanese to consolidate and expand unique national characteristics that were to make their country one of the modern world’s great powers within a few short decades.
The f
e
udal clan system had inculcated the principles of loyalty, obedience and se
l
f-discipline i
n
to every Japanese; these virtues were focused towards, first, their immediate clan lords, then ultimately the
Emperor
who was revered as the divine head of the national family and the living representative of the gods in ‘the land begotten by the sun’. The deep conviction fostered by the national religion, Shinto, that every Japanese was in turn a unique and divine member of this sacred family was consequently further strengthened. No other major nation in history had ever achieved such s
el
f-
sufficiency
over so long a period and during those two hundred and fifty years the samurai spirit, which primarily encouraged cultivation, of personal inner strength and determination, also beca
m
e ingrained in the national psyche.
The term ‘samurai’ can be translated as ‘servant’, ‘vassal’ o
r
by implication, fighting
m
an’. Samurai traditionally formed the upper class in feudal Japan, standing directly below the ennobled
daimyo
and the imperial court. But members of the aristocracy and princely families who wished to do so also practised the samurai arts. To win this
prestigious
status, howeve
r
was not easy
.
A long, rigorous period of training and education had to be endured and this began at a very early age. In an attempt to remove all superstition and fear of death, boys as young as five years old were sent to watch hideous public executions and sometimes had to carry away newly severed heads in their hands without flinching. To strengthen their
n
erve furthe
r
they were also made to revisit execution gro
u
nds alone in the middle of the n
i
ght. In other exercises they were toughened by deliberate exposure to extremes of cold, starved for short periods and forced to remain awake all night. Successful candidates received their swords at the age of fifteen, after immersion in a long educational process that was as much spiritual as physical.
At special elite schools, fundamental precepts of Confucian duty were taught as well as Zen-Buddhist mysticism and the practices and principles of Shinto. Breathing and meditation techniques enabled the samurai to understand the science of energy as
it
was then perceived and achieve a sense of communion with nature, the earth and ultimately the universe. All this was designed to help him achieve his supreme goal
-
the development of a sixth sense which made possible a total spontaneity of thought and action and a lightning swiftness with all his weapons. The Christian concepts of original sin and guilt were unknown to Shinto morality and whenever a samurai drew his sword and struck out, fatally or otherwise, the spontaneity of the act was invariably respected and assumed to be just
ifi
ed. It was for this reason that ordinary Japanese behaved with great caution in the presence of the two-sworded warriors. A samurai was also taught to excel in all other forms of combat, including bare-fist fighting, and he trained himself to remain ever alert, even in his sleep, so that he could leap into action immediately f attacked. This entire samurai code of conduct came to be known as Bushido or ‘The Way of the Warrior’ because in common Japanese parlance samurai were known as
bushi
or ‘warrior kn
ig
hts’. The word
do
translates as ‘the path’ so the rules of the code laid down the true way for a warrior to demonstrate unquali
fi
ed allegiance to his lord and emperor: These warrior knights became the officers of the feudal armies so their ethic spread downward to embrace all other ranks.
Since Japan
’s
long period of seclusion ended, the spirit of Bushido has been frequently detectable in Japan
’s
national behaviour: Carefully studying the enemy strengths and weaknesses and striking one fast, let
hal
blow by surprise was the prime ambition of a samurai in combat, and the whole Japanese navy would apply this
p
rinciple pe
r
fectly in May 1905. Then almost the entire Russian Baltic Fleet, the greatest and most modern of its day, was
w
iped out by surprise while passing through a narrow Japanese strait. Nearly forty years late, in 1941, ‘Strike first
-
and by surprise!’ was again the watchword when some 90 per cent of America
’s
Pa
ci
fic Fleet was destroyed in port at Pearl Harbor by Japan
’s
air and sea forces while her diplomats deceitfully conducted peace negotiations in Washington.
In the very
different
circumstances of striding towards economic and technological primacy in the world of the late twentieth centur
y
the Japanese continue to draw strength from these same f
e
udal traditions and exclusive tendencies which still set them apart today as a
n
ation. But none of these perspectives were visible to the u
n
knowing American sailors of 1853, who could only see from their warships the quaint outer trappings of
Japan
’s
f
eu
dalism. Also they had no way of knowing, as they tensely watched the shore, that their brief intrusion into Yedo
B
ay would be the spur that plunged Japan into a turmoil of change
-
and that these changes would draw the Japanese people and their fo
rm
idable
energies
de
ci
sively
into the
quickening flow
of world history.
ON THE NARROW
bunk in his tiny cabin above the rudder of the
Susquehanna,
Samuel Armstrong pitched and tossed restlessly back and forth between the borders of sleep and a troubled wakefulness. An anxious sheen of perspiration was glistening on his brow and he muttered aloud a
n
d twitched every now and then as he drifted towards a hazy state of consciousness. A knocking noise seemed to be intruding into his clouded mind from some unidentified source, tearing at the last shreds of sleep: harsh and persistent, it sounded as though distant hammers were crashing urgently against wooden planks, and the noise was echoing and re-echoing ringingly across the dawn waters of the bay.
He was unsure whether the noise was real or dream-inspired and he tried, still without waking fully, to shut it out of his hearing. Part of his mind was already obscurely aware that
the
crucial fourth day at anchor before Uraga was dawning
-
Tuesday 12 July, the last of the three days allowed by Commodore Perry for the Japanese to reply to his ultimatum. Only a few hours were left now for them to decide whether to accept the letter from the President of the United States with due formality, or risk an American fighting force landing to deliver it.
‘Today we’ll know if it’s to be peace or war,’ Armstrong’s half-wakened self had been whispering in. an agitated tone inside his head since long before dawn. ‘Today we shall know whether our bluff has been called. Today we’ll find out if our marines and sailors will have to try and fight their way into Yedo...’
Perhaps, he thought suddenly in his
half
-dream, preparations for the despatch of the small invasion force had already begun. Perhaps the ship’s carpenters had all been ordered to rise early and begin constructing coffins. When fighting began, he told himself sadly, casualties were bound to be heavy Throughout the long hours of the previous day he had paced restlessly back and forth along the
Susquehanna’s
decks, watching the Japanese fighting units grow in density around the cliff
top forts of Uraga and on beaches along both sides
o
f the bay. Archers, pikemen and musketeers were seen being marshalled rapidly into defensive positions along the shores, and occasional cavalry units galloped vigorously into view with pennons flying. Estimates, among the flagship’s officers, of the total strengths of the shore battalions varied from ten to fifteen thousand in the immediate vicinity and if these estimates were true the A
m
erican marines and sailors on the warships were overwhelmingly outnumbered by at least ten to one.
It also seemed certain that many more Japanese warriors would be held in reserve, hidden from sight.
With other members of the
Susquehanna’s
crew, Armstrong had watched apprehensively as the
Mississippi
weighed anchor on Perry’s orders at midmorning and steamed off provocatively up the bay towards Yedo, flanked by a flotilla of armed cutters. When alarmed Japanese officials had dashed out to the flagship in their boats, he had personally translated to them the brusque explanation from the
Susquehanna’s
captain that the bay was being charted so that an American force could sail towards the capital and fight its way directly into Ye do if necessary In the following hours big flotillas of local guard-boats had swarmed off around the point in pursuit of the steamer, and the land reinforcements arriving to man Uraga’s coastal defences had swelled further in volume.
The
Mississippi
had returned safely before dusk to report many tense moments with the guard-boats, and after night had fallen
more
new beacons had flared above the heights of the bay; the war-gongs and temple bells, which died away during Sunday, had also begun to beat and toll ominously again, and in response the
Susquehanna
had got up steam, taken in thirty fathoms of her anchor cable, and made the necessary preparations to slip the remainder quickly in any emergency. Guns had been shotted and run out, all the watches had again been doubled during the night, and extra lookouts had been posted aloft on all four ships.
Unable to rest because of the high tension, Armstrong had roamed around the ship into the small hours, anxiously watching the beacons and the troop movements, before falling into an uneasy slumber on his bunk around 4 a.m. Never fully asleep for long, and intensely aware that the rumbling boilers in the flagship’s bowels were keeping her in a state of constant readiness, he had first noticed the loud sound of knocking at the moment when he began to dream that hundreds of hangman’s scaffolds were being built onshore
-
one for every crew member of the entire US squadron. Then he remembered, in a bout of wakefulness, that the Japanese had no tradition of execution by hanging; but when he fell asleep again he dreamed with horrifying vividness about the mass crucifixion of Christian converts in Japan two centuries earlier.
This dream, to his consternation, repeated itself later in an even more alarming form and he saw and heard a forest of wooden crosses being erected noisily by leering Japanese carpenters on a hill opposite the ships. Moaning in protest, he was being lifted and nailed to the first cross himself when he was awakened fully at last by the sound of a loud knocking at his cabin door.
‘
Mr.
Armstrong, sir!’ called the concerned voice of Midshipman Harris. ‘Are you all right, sir? Are you awake?’
‘Yes, I’m awake: mumbled the missionary after a moment, opening his eyes in relief and sitting up. ‘Come in.’
Thro ugh the open scuttle of the cabin the perfect cone of Mount Fuji was just appearing; emerging dramatically from the mist into the early sunlight, its entire outline became fully visible in an instant, glowing with a greater clarity than he had ever seen before. As he gathered his scattered senses, he stared out through the scuttle, wondering silently at the purity of the image, and it was while he was looking towards the volcano that he noticed that the constant sound of hammering, which had invaded his slumbers so persistently, was continuing in reality: Turning to look at the eager young midshipman who was standing to attention in the cabin doorway, he noticed that the youth, in keeping with the flagship’s overall state of armed readiness, was wearing a cutlass slung from his waist.
‘I’m afraid I’ve slept rather badly,
Mr.
Harris,’ said the missionary wearily. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Flag Lieutenant Rice presents his compliments, .sir,’ announced the midshipman, straightening his posture f
u
rther and squaring his shoulders. ‘And he says he’d like to see you in his cabin as soon as you are ready.’
‘Very well.’ The missionary rubbed his eyes, realizing he had fallen asleep in his clothes. Straightening his cravat and smoothing his cru
m
pled jacket, he swung his legs stiffly over the side of the bunk and stood up. ‘Is the summons for something particularly urgent?’
‘I believe the commander-in-chief has composed a new letter to the Emperor of Japan during the night, sir; said the midshipman promptly. ‘Lieutenant Rice has the letter, and a translation will be required before the Japanese delegation appears.’
‘Are the Japanese expected?’ asked Armstrong sharply. ‘Has there been any sign of their boat?’
‘Not yet,
Mr.
Armstrong, sir. B
u
t Lieutenant Rice says the commander-in-chief is confident they will appear soon.’
Armstrong drew a long breath and knitted his brows in a frown. ‘I hope he’s right. A thousand American lives may depend on it.’
‘The lieutenant asked me to say, sir, that the commodore is very concerned that everybody involved today should be correctly briefed as soon as possible
‘Thank you,
Mr.
Harris,’ said Armstrong distantly. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’ The midshipman had begun to turn smartly away but the missionary raised a hand in his direction, requesting that he wait. ‘You’ve heard that constant noise of hammering I suppose, have you?’
‘Yes, sir. It’s been going on most of the night.’
‘What is it, do you know?’
‘No, sir. Nobody seems to kno
w
sir. It’s coming from the shore
-
behind the bluff clown the bay. The sound carries very clearly over the water.’
Armstrong nodded bemusedly and stood up. ‘And what about the enemy
fighting
units on the shore? How do they seem to be behaving this morning?’
‘They’re already looking very active,
Mr.
Armstrong, sir. There’s been a lot of manoeuvring and marching. Lieutenant Rice thinks they’re putting on a deliberate show of force
-
or preparing for hostilities.’
‘1 see. Then tell him I’ll be there as soon as I’ve changed my clothes.’
‘Very good,
Mr.
Armstrong, sir.’
Although there was no need to acknowledge the civilian missionary formally, the midshipman saluted as a sign of respect before spinning round and marching away with one hand clenched self-importantly on the hilt of his cutlass.
When he had gone Armstrong took off his jacket and poured cold water into a basin from a jug to wash his face and hands. After changing his shirt and his cravat and puzzling for a moment over the continuing sound of hammering coming from the shore, he put on his jacket once more and walked quickly to the cabin of the flag lieutenant. When he entered, he found Rice was poring over a chart, writing in details of the soundings taken by the
Mississippi
and the cutters the, previous day. After exchanging greetings with the missionary the young officer looked up with a pleased expression on his face.
‘The cutters found deep soundings all the way up t
he
bay for twelve miles,
Mr.
Armstrong. There’s a bottom of soft mud, and the channel very likely continues beyond the furthest point they reached.’
‘Is that a cause for celebration?’ asked the missionary acidly.
‘Yes, it is. The lead gave a depth of twenty fathoms in the centre of the channel. On
the
sides
it
struck banks of mud at around five
fathoms
. So it looks as if the whole squadron could push safely up as far as Yedo itself. .
‘I hope and pray that nothing so extreme will prove necessary; Lieutenant,’ said A
r
mstrong soberly. ‘We’ve made our best progress in the negotiations so far by peaceful methods. That surely is our greatest merit.’
Rice bent over his charts again and wrote in another figure. ‘Our commander
-
in-chief believes the success of peaceful methods is best ensured by being prepared to act boldly and decisively with force of arms
-
should it prove necessary’
‘Doesn’t the commodore have any qualms about the hundreds of American lives he’s putting at risk?’ asked Armstrong mildly. ‘Or does he never think of such things?’
‘I can’t pretend I know the commodore’s every unspoken thought,’ said Rice slowly ‘His life will be at risk, too, remember. And I’m sure he believes that readiness to attack is the best means of defence
-
for his own skin as well as ours
‘But the odds against us on land are growing hour by hour, despite our superior firepower: insisted the missionary ‘They’ve probably got unlimited numbers of men under arms. The arms are ancient, but they’re known to be proud and fierce fighters hand to hand. Why should we risk pushing them into a bloody fight to the death at this stage?’
Rice continued to busy himself with his charts, and his voice hardened. ‘I don’t think the commodore would presume to tell you how to go about converting the heathen,
Mr.
Armstrong. So perhaps it would be best if you deferred your judgement
-
at least for a while
‘And how long exactly does the commodore expect to wait for his results?’ asked the missionary heavily. ‘How long might it take before all this blows up in our faces?’
‘A feint was made with the
Mississippi
yesterday replied Rice in the same calm voice. ‘The commodore deliberately gave the impression the ship was steaming directly for the capital. And she passed further up the Bay of Yedo than any foreign vessel has done for three centuries.’
‘That may not seem like a very great achievement if things go badly wrong as a result: said Armstrong, shaking his head.
‘The purpose was to stir up the Japanese and force a quicker response to our demand to deliver the President’s letter: continued Rice evenly. ‘And it clearly worked, because the Japanese dovecote has been in a flutter ever since. The commodore doesn’t expect to have to wait much longer.’
‘Stepping into the unknown like this involves great risks: said Armstrong severely. ‘I had a terrible nightmare before I awoke this morning. I felt I was being crucified for what we are doing here.’
‘The commodore has already marched fighting columns to famous shore victories in Mexico,’ said Rice, ignoring the missionary’s confidence. ‘In Africa he also landed an armed force and struck unexpectedly into the heart of a pirate stronghold..:
‘Japan is a very different kettle of fish to a pirate’s lair in Africa,’ protested Armstrong hotly. ‘It hardly compares
-
’
‘In both actions the commodore achieved his objectives without undue losses. So you can rest assured that he is a man who knows very well from experience what he’s doing.’
The flag lieutenant paused and picked up a single sheet of vellum bearing a short letter written in the strong, flamboyant hand of Commodore Perry, and handed
it
to Armstrong.
‘The commodore requests that you make a prompt translation of this new letter to
the Emperor into
Dutch and Japanese, so that