Once settled, the troupe could do nothing but wait for the ferry to cast off. But that wouldn’t happen until the captain had enough passengers. Jack and his friends sat in silence, aware that every passing minute further endangered their lives. A steady trickle of travellers and merchants began arriving and the captain’s crew busied themselves loading the cargo hold with rice, salt, ceramics, bamboo and various other goods for shipment to Shimabara. But their progress towards departure seemed painstakingly slow.
The sun poked its head above the horizon and its golden rays clipped the top of Kumamoto Castle. At that moment, the peace of dawn was shattered by the sound of clanging bells.
42
Ferry
‘Wakey-wakey, daimyo!’ said Benkei with a grim smile. ‘Your guests are gone.’
Jack and his friends exchanged uneasy looks at the continuing klaxon of noise.
‘I doubt they welcome in the dawn like this every day,’ said Saburo.
‘We’ve still a little time before any patrol gets here,’ reminded Akiko, glancing up the road in the direction of Kumamoto. Clusters of travellers queued for the checkpoint, but there were no samurai charging down to the harbour … not yet anyway.
‘The ferry’s almost full,’ said Yori hopefully. The crew had finished loading the cargo and the captain was welcoming the last few groups of passengers on-board as the alarm bells rang on.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ replied Miyuki. ‘The harbour guard’s bound to stop any ships leaving now.’
‘They’ve already closed the checkpoint,’ Akiko noted with growing concern.
Jack leant over the side of the ferry. ‘There’s a small fishing boat moored next to us. We could try to escape in that.’
‘Not after last time!’ pleaded Saburo, his face turning decidedly green at the prospect of another bout of seasickness, pirates and storms.
‘The fishing boat might be our only option,’ said Miyuki, directing everyone’s attention back to the road.
In the distance, a unit of samurai were marching double-time towards the harbour.
The captain caught sight of the patrol. ‘Not another military drill,’ he moaned. ‘Cast off now, otherwise we’ll be stuck here all day.’
Drawing in the gangplank, the crew raised the anchor, set the main sail and unhitched the ropes from the dockside. The offshore breeze proved too light to move the ship, so the oarsmen took up their positions and dug their paddles deep into the water. But the fully laden vessel was slow to pull away from the quay. Meanwhile, the samurai were drawing nearer and nearer.
Jack was reminded of the race between the tortoise and the hare. But this time the hare was going to win.
As the oarsmen got into their stride, the ferry gained momentum and headed for the mouth of the harbour. The samurai, seeing the ship depart, were now running down the road. Jack silently willed the oarsmen to row harder, each stroke promising them freedom. The patrol reached the checkpoint and interrogated the harbour guard. He appeared to shake his head, then could be seen attempting to dance a jig. The patrol leader pushed past him and ran on to the dock, gesturing for the captain to turn back, but by this time the ferry was out of the harbour and beyond hailing distance.
Jack and his friends sat down and breathed a collective sigh of relief. They’d escaped by the skin of their teeth. Sensing this was a moment to celebrate, the musicians took out their instruments again and started to play. The music inspired some of the girls to dance and they launched into an impromptu performance – much to the delight of the crew and passengers on-board.
But Jack experienced a growing sense of unease. He wondered whether they had really escaped scot-free. The harbour guard had evidently been convinced by his dance. But would daimyo Kato, when his samurai reported back to him, suspect the kabuki troupe had been involved? Or did he already believe they were? The troupe’s appearance at his castle and the simultaneous breakout of his prisoners could arguably be coincidence. There was no obvious connection between the two. But, in the eyes of an astute and cunning daimyo, a well-planned subterfuge might be seen. Whatever the case, Jack would feel happier once he was out of the kabuki costume and there was no clear link to Okuni and her troupe.
While the impromptu show continued, Jack scanned the wide expanse of bay that marked the bottleneck of the inland Ariake Sea. No boats pursued their ferry, which could only be a good sign. And the stretch of water before them was clear all the way to their destination on the opposite side. Maybe they did have a reason to celebrate …
Once out in open water, the breeze stiffened and the ferry powered steadily through the waves towards Shimabara. The castle port shimmered on the horizon, overshadowed by the mountainous and scarred Unzen-dake. The menacing cone-shaped volcano rose out of the water like a devil’s fang, its smouldering peak biting into the clear blue sky and spitting out sulphurous clouds.
An ominous feeling seized Jack, as if something, not necessarily the volcano, would soon erupt with devastating consequences.
‘This voyage had better be short,’ said Saburo, holding his head in his hands and groaning.
‘Still haven’t found your sea legs then?’ replied Jack, dragging his eyes away from the brooding volcano.
‘I must have lost them during that storm!’ He attempted a smile but failed miserably.
Jack gave an involuntary shudder as he recalled the ferocious tempest that had nearly killed them all. Despite the favourable conditions in the bay now, being at sea again brought the nightmare vividly back. He looked at his friends. ‘I truly thought you’d all drowned.’
‘We thought you had drowned,’ said Yori, sitting close by his side on the rough wooden deck. ‘When you disappeared beneath that wave, I … I …’ He was unable to finish the sentence as emotion choked his voice.
Jack laid a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘I understand. I felt the same way when I washed up on the beach and found the three of you gone. So how did you survive?’
‘Your decision to tie us to the skiff saved our lives,’ explained Miyuki. ‘Even though exhaustion and the cold nearly killed us, when the storm had passed a fisherman spotted our capsized boat. He hauled us on-board and took us back to shore. For the next few days, we recovered in his fishing village. We believed you were dead until we heard the stories of the Golden-Haired Devil of Beppu.’ Miyuki grinned. ‘We knew that could only be you!’
‘But I’ve been on the run ever since. How did you find me here?’
As he asked the question, Jack realized he already knew the answer: she was sitting right opposite him.
‘Miyuki tracked you, of course!’ replied Yori, his tone expressing respect and awe at her skills. ‘Your arrest in Yufuin. The missing prayer flag. The cut rope bridge. The search parties around Aso –’
‘I lost your trail after that,’ admitted Miyuki. ‘I guessed you were going to Kumamoto; it was the most obvious crossing point for Nagasaki. But there was no sign of you there, even after a few days of searching.’
‘You must have gone ahead of me,’ said Jack, thinking of the period he and Benkei had taken refuge with Shiryu.
‘That’s the conclusion I came to, so we began to double back. We were taking the road out of Kumamoto, when Yori spotted Akiko’s horse and we bumped into Benkei, who was “looking after” your belongings.’
She raised her eyebrows dubiously at such a notion, but Benkei brushed aside her insinuation with a wave of his hand. ‘And lucky they did, nanban, otherwise your friends would never have found you in time. Nor would they have been introduced to Okuni and her kabuki troupe when they arrived in Kumamoto to perform for the daimyo.’
‘I have to admit that was a stroke of good fortune,’ said Miyuki. ‘We’d never have got inside that castle otherwise.’
‘We have a lot to thank them for,’ said Jack, watching Junjun dance across the deck.
Her performance came to an end and the passengers broke into rapturous applause. Okuni and her dancers were bestowed wit
h so many tokens of appreciation that their passage on-board the ferry was paid for twice over.
Akiko glanced wistfully across the bay towards Shimabara. ‘You’re almost home free now, Jack.’
‘Not quite,’ he replied, a shadow falling across his face. ‘Kazuki’s still out there.’
Yori’s eyes widened in shock. ‘But I thought he’d given up. Especially after almost dying in that flood.’
‘That only made him more determined,’ said Jack. ‘Kazuki’s vowed on his life to hunt me down … and kill me.’
For a moment no one said anything, the only noise being the flap of the sail, the wash of waves and the splash of oars.
Akiko turned to Miyuki. ‘Did you come across Kazuki’s path while tracking Jack?’
Miyuki shook her head.
‘Then he’s ahead of us and waiting to pounce.’
Miyuki’s gaze dropped to Jack’s injured hand. ‘Did Kazuki do that to you?’ she asked, her dark eyes narrowing in anger.
‘No, that was Sensei Kyuzo,’ Jack replied, and told them about his harrowing encounter. Yori could hardly believe a teacher of the Niten Ichi Ryū would commit such a betrayal. And when Jack came to the moment the Akita dog ate his fingertip, Saburo’s seasickness took a turn for the worse and he heaved over the ferry’s side.
Miyuki could barely contain her rage. ‘So long as I live, I won’t let anyone harm you again.’
‘Nor will I,’ stated Akiko, with equal determination.
‘None of us will,’ assured Yori.
Jack didn’t know what to say. Once again, he was overwhelmed by his friends’ loyalty and courage.
43
Shimabara
The ferry docked at Shimabara just as the sun reached its zenith. The voyage had been smooth and for once uneventful, giving Jack and his friends the opportunity to recover from the night’s fraught escape. After a much-needed breakfast of cold rice and dried fish from their supplies, Jack had slept deep and long, comforted by the familiar pitch and roll of the boat. His friends had taken turns to keep watch, but now, as they disembarked, everyone was on full alert to negotiate the unknown threats of the bustling port.
Akiko guided Snowball down the gangplank and resaddled him, while Jack and the others helped the kabuki troupe load their belongings back on to the handcarts. Once everyone was ready, they headed for the checkpoint. The port was teeming with travellers, merchants and dockhands, the hectic atmosphere providing useful cover as they approached the barrier.
Four harbour guards were stationed at the exit, meticulously checking permits.
Jack braced himself for another performance. As the line cleared, Okuni stepped up and introduced herself and her troupe. Noting the guards’ obvious interest in the arrival of so many girls, Okuni offered them front-row seats at the kabuki show that evening. The subtle bribe brought broad smiles to the men’s faces and they welcomed the troupe through the checkpoint unquestioned.
‘Easy as falling off a log!’ said Benkei, giving Jack a wink.
Jack wished he shared his friend’s confidence. But he knew from bitter experience that the moment they dropped their guard would be the moment an enemy attacked. And the smouldering volcano of Unzen-dake did nothing to raise Jack’s spirits. It loomed over Shimabara like a brooding monster. Trapped between the volcano and the full glare of the sun, the town sweltered in the summer heat, the ocean breeze doing little to alleviate the discomfort. Townsfolk wafted to and fro along the main road, fluttering their fans like a flock of frantic butterflies. Samurai stood on every street corner, observing the passers-by and slowly broiling in their armour. Jack wondered if the intense heat had anything to do with being so close to a volcano.
‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this place,’ whispered Jack to Miyuki.
‘Me too,’ she replied, anxiously thumbing the hilt of her hidden knife.
As they neared the centre, the town suddenly disappeared into rubble, every building razed to the ground. At first, Jack thought the volcano must have erupted, a lava flow destroying this section of the port. But on closer inspection he could see the huge swathe of land had been cleared – houses and whole streets purposefully demolished to make way for a new construction.
A castle.
Samurai guards were stationed all over the site, keeping a watchful eye on hundreds of men, women and children, all in ragged clothes. They laboured like a swarm of ants over the broken ground. Bare-chested men, smeared in dirt and sweat, dug out a vast moat, while exhausted women and sunburnt children hauled out endless buckets of earth. The trench was wide and deep enough to dry-dock a Spanish galleon and extended for at least a mile northwards and half a mile inland. Within its vast boundaries, immense stone walls were being laid boulder by boulder and watchtowers built at key strategic points. At the heart of the site was a partially constructed fortress. Made of pure white stone, it stood in stark contrast to the black-and-gold keep of Kumamoto.
‘How can a small port warrant a castle this size?’ exclaimed Saburo, gasping in disbelief.
‘The daimyo must be power hungry and very rich!’ said Benkei.
‘And a ruthless ruler,’ added Yori as he spotted two samurai beating a man who’d dropped his shovel. ‘The workers are being treated like slaves.’
‘We need to get out of here as soon as we can,’ urged Akiko.
No one argued with her. They hurriedly followed Okuni and her troupe to a field on the outskirts of Shimabara, where the performers pitched their tents. Within one tent, out of sight of prying eyes, Jack, Akiko and Miyuki washed off their make-up and changed back into their own clothes. The cloying heat of the day made it impractical for Akiko to wear full armour, so she kept to a simple breastplate and a pair of shoulder guards over her dark-green silk kimono. The rest of her armour she stored in Snowball’s saddlebags. Miyuki wore an unassuming cotton yukata, dyed indigo and tied off with a plain white obi, to blend in with the local people. As she wrapped her belt around her waist, she took care to conceal several shuriken within the folds. Hidden in the sleeve pocket she stowed her knife, and into her black hair she slipped a decorative brass pin, the tip sharpened into a lethal point.
‘How do I look?’ she asked Jack, putting the final touches to her hair.
‘Deadly,’ he replied with a grin and they both laughed.
At that moment, Akiko returned from packing her horse. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything,’ she said, glancing uncomfortably between the two of them.
‘No, of course not,’ replied Jack, sensing she was upset.
‘The others are ready to go,’ she added, then abruptly left the tent.
Jack didn’t know what to make of Akiko’s uncharacteristic brusqueness. ‘We’d better make a move,’ he urged Miyuki.
Picking up her ninjatō and stashing it in her bag, along with her shinobi shozoku outfit, she replied, ‘I’ll see you outside,’ then strode from the tent, a smile curling her lips.
Jack watched her leave. Akiko and Miyuki were like two sides of a coin: made of the same metal, but with different characters. They were both loyal, courageous and highly skilled warriors. Each was quick, intelligent and shrewd. But Akiko’s true nature was gentle, caring and warm-hearted; whereas Miyuki was more playful, spirited and fiery in her attitude to others. He valued both their friendships and dearly wished they’d become firm friends with one another too – not that such a thing was likely between a samurai and a ninja.
‘Come on, nanban!’ called Benkei. ‘Or are you still doing your make-up?’
Slipping on his sandals, glad they now fitted like his blue kimono, Jack picked up his pack and swords. As he eased the red-handled katana and wakizashi into his obi, he felt a surge of strength and confidence return to him. Without these Shizu swords, he realized he’d felt vulnerable and open to attack. But now he was a warrior again, ready for the final push to Nagasaki.
Adjusting the straw hat on his head, he emerged from the tent. Okuni, Junjun and the rest of the dancers were w
aiting to say their farewells.
Jack bowed low. ‘I appreciate the great risk you took for us.’
‘And we appreciate you risking your life for Junjun,’ replied Okuni, bowing in return. ‘Another time you must show me that jig of yours. I’m keen to include it in our show as a comic interlude.’
Jack didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult to his dancing ability, but after all she’d done, he didn’t mind either way. ‘Are you sure you want to? If your girls all looked like me, you’d never get any bookings!’
Okuni laughed, then turned to Benkei. ‘If you want to stay, there’s a place in our troupe for you.’
Benkei appeared torn by indecision. He looked longingly at Junjun – who returned his gaze – before regretfully shaking his head. ‘I promised to guide Jack to Nagasaki. And I’m a man of my word.’
Junjun’s eyes welled slightly with tears as she nodded in acknowledgement of his duty.
‘And I, a woman of mine,’ replied Okuni, noting the exchange with a smile. ‘So the offer is always open.’
Bowing their farewells, Benkei led Jack and his friends out of the camp and along the main road. With one last look back in Junjun’s direction, he forged ahead, yelling, ‘Nagasaki, here we come!’
On the edge of town, the road divided in two.
‘Which way?’ Akiko asked Benkei, bringing her horse to a halt.
‘We can take either,’ he replied. ‘North follows the coastline round the peninsula. It’s flat, but the route’s much longer. West skirts the base of the volcano. It’s tougher going, but only two days’ travel at the most.’
Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky Page 17
