by Anthony Grey
After bowing once more to Eden, the Japanese hurried off in the direction of the fo’c’s’le, and the missionary-interpreter positioned himself carefully beside the cannon so that he could look out along its barrel towards the shore.
‘Our castaway’s wrong of course said Armstrong softly, as he studied the glowing beacons ranged along the cliffs. ‘I don’t speak Japanese nearly well enough. What little I know, I learned like you, Lieutenant, from a few shipwrecked sailors. My lot got washed up in Hong Kong and Canton. I’ve been able to add a little scholarly gloss by talking with some of those intrepid Dutch traders who occasionally pass through southern China on their way to and from Nagasaki.’ The missionary straightened his back and looked round admiringly at Robert Eden. ‘You’ve done very well in the short time available to you. Your Japanese is as good as mine - but with you I sense it’s something more than just idle curiosity Am I right?’
‘I hoped that knowing some of the language might help me understand what we’re trying to do here, sir,’ replied Eden, remembering the hint of acrimony in their last discussion, and keeping his voice studiedly polite. ‘That’s all.’
‘Most commendable. Few others would go to such lengths.’ Armstrong paused and drew thoughtfully on his pipe. ‘Has it helped you to understand?’
‘Not very much yet, sir. Perhaps it’s too early.’
‘I sense, Lieutenant, there’s much more in your heart than you feel able to say prompted the missionary gently after a short silence. ‘You can feel free to speak your mind with me. I’m a civilian, remember. We started to have an interesting conversation earlier. Let’s continue it. I won’t repeat anything of what you say.’
Eden hesitated for a long moment, as though he had previously made up his mind to say nothing further. Then he inclined his head towards the coast, and spoke with a quiet intensity ‘We seem, Mr. Armstrong, to be taking grave risks. We’re obviously causing great turmoil ashore. And why? These people have done us no harm. Thousands of miles separate our countries. What is it all for?’
‘We’re standing on the brink of a turning point in history, Lieutenant - for Asia and perhaps the whole world.’ The missionary looked out towards the shore again, pointing with the stem of his pipe along the barrel of the cannon. ‘These people are still living out a kind of medieval fairytale that hasn’t changed for many hundreds of years. They’re cut off from the rest of the world and ruled by an emperor who is supposed to be divine. But nobody ever sees him. The lords of the provinces, the daimyo, live in remote castles, hunting and quarrelling among themselves. They still protect their fiefdoms with private warrior bands garbed in the sort of gaudy feudal uniforms last seen in Europe in the Middle Ages. The peasants toil like slaves in the rice paddies, the townspeople are in thrall too, the whole system is oppressive, and there are no real freedoms as we know them. They’re hundreds of years behind us, Lieutenant. Tonight we’re bringing the modern age to their doorstep.
Glancing up as he listened to the missionary, Eden noticed that the silhouetted figures of the silent look- outs posted amongst the Susquehanna’s furled sails were becoming more clearly visible. The dark sky high above the four motionless warships was speckled with the faint light of many stars, but so far there had been no sign of the moon. Turning his head, Eden saw that to the south-west a faint glow was spreading above the sea, suggesting that the moon was about to rise, and this growing flood of illumination was causing the four powerful American ships to stand out more dramatically ,n the flat calm of the bay.
‘You make it sound, Mr. Armstrong, as though it’s an unselfish act on our part: said Eden quietly. ‘But aren’t we really levelling our guns at them to glorify the Yankee nation? Aren’t we just flaunting our superior power? Nobody asked us to come here - just the reverse. The Japanese have told us to go away
- at least as far as Nagasaki. What right do we have to ignore them?’
Armstrong stroked his greying -whiskers thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled. ‘I admire your youthful idealism, Lieutenant. I was once like you as a young man - filled with righteous fire! As you grow older you see things with a greater sense of balance. Yes, the letter from our President to their Emperor seeks to persuade them to open some of their ports officially to our ships and our trade. We want them to sell us coal, water and other supplies. We demand too that they repatriate American whaling crews shipwrecked on their numerous islands. Is there really so much wrong with all that?’
Eden listened to the booming of the distant war gong and the muffled chanting onshore, then drew a long breath. ‘Why couldn’t we leave them to choose for themselves whether they wished to join the rest of the world - and when?’
The missionary grinned and reached out to pat Eden amicably on the shoulder. ‘Humanity doesn’t operate quite like that, young man. Never has and probably never will. For its own sake, Japan needs to learn how the rest of the world does things.’
‘If they want to find their own way, in their own time, for their own reasons: said Eden insistently, ‘why should we hold guns to their heads now?’
‘For two hundred years,’ said Armstrong slowly, ‘the Japanese have traded with the West exclusively through Dutch merchants based at Nagasaki. They humiliate those Dutchmen by making them prisoners on an artificial concrete island in the harbour, and never allow them ashore. When a Dutch ship arrives, they stop it outside the harbour and ransack it. They always confiscate any Bibles they find - and even crack open eggs to check if anything is being smuggled inside the shells...’
Armstrong chuckled and tapped his pipe against the six-foot bulwark, carefully grinding out with his heel the glowing embers that fell to the deck. He continued to smile at the apparent inanities of Japan’s customs officers, but gradually his face became serious.
‘The outside world can’t continue to trade with Japan like this - and today your commodore has forced them to abandon some of the terrible humiliations they habitually inflict on outsiders. He’s also forced their guard-boats to cease close surveillance of our ships. And he’s made their officials come respectfully to him seeking an audience. All that was made possible by this fellow and his friends.’ Armstrong raised one hand to pat the long, cast-iron barrel of the sixty-four-pound cannon, and he smiled again. ‘Perhaps all this sounds a bit strange to you, Lieutenant, coming from a missionary - a so-called “man of God”. I’m not used to travelling on warships, but here’s where I see the “balance” in this situation In his mercy, I’m sure God doesn’t wish the nations of eastern Asia to remain forever in seclusion and outer darkness. I believe the truth of the Gospels must be made known to all nations. And God can move in mysterious ways behind commerce, diplomacy - and even US Navy steam frigates.’
‘These people have their own gods and beliefs said Eden with sudden explosive force. ‘Very different to ours, admittedly, but surely we should respect that.’
Armstrong looked up in surprise and saw that the young officer’s face had become unaccountably tense.
At his side his right hand was clenched in a tight fist and he was staring fixedly towards the shore.
‘Do you not trust in the will of God, Lieutenant?’ asked the missionary quietly. ‘Do you have no faith?’
Eden did not reply at once, but continued staring out into the night. Above his head, the strengthening glow from the southern horizon was bathing the masts and spars of the flagship in a faint bluish light, and many of the lookouts had turned to peer towards its source. In his abstraction Eden failed to notice that the light had intensified and he turned suddenly to face the missionary again, speaking in a voice that shook with emotion.
‘I lost my own faith seven years ago, Mr. Armstrong - when my wife died in my arms. At the time she was in labour. .
‘I’m very sorry: the missionary began, but Eden ignored him.
‘She was only sixteen. We’d been married eleven months . .. I’ve never prayed since. I vowed that night I’d never pray again. Never! No matter how long I lived.’
Eden’s voice died away and he bowed his head briefly. For some moments the missionary remained respectfully silent, watching him with a compassion.ate expression in his eyes.
‘We often don’t understand God’s will at the time, Lieutenant,’ he began gently. ‘I’d like to talk to you again - maybe at a better moment than this..
Eden held up one hand suddenly in a gesture of admonition, and when he spoke his words were harsh and cold. ‘There’s nothing more to say, Mr. Armstrong. I don’t want to talk to ‘you, or anyone else, about God - now or ever.’
In the uncomfortable silence that followed, the missionary lifted his head and noticed for the first time the luminous glow that was beginning to light up the whole sky above the Bay of Yedo. The furled sails, spars and hulls of the Susquehanna and its sister warships were now silhouetted starkly against the sky and, when Armstrong swung round towards the south-west, he let out a gasp of astonishment.
‘Look, Lieutenant - what an extraordinary sight!’
Following his gaze, Eden saw a brightly glowing blue sphere rising very slowly above the horizon. Throwing off a great light, it grew steadily larger in the sky, leaving in its wake a wedge-shaped trail of red phosphorescence. This cascade of brightness illuminated a large area of land and sea, and an awed hush fell over the flagship as those on deck watched it ascend into the heavens. On land the sound of the single gong suddenly ceased and even the intermittent chanting died away, leaving the bay eerily silent.
‘What are we to make of this, Armstrong?’ boomed a voice from the quarterdeck rail above their heads and Eden snapped to attention on recognizing the resonant tones of Commodore Perry.
A moment later he saw the bulky figure of the commander-in-chief come into view. His shock of dark hair was tousled and his gold-epauletted uniform jacket was unfastened at the collar, suggesting he had risen hurriedly from his cabin to observe the strange phenomenon. Like everybody else on board the four ships, he was craning his neck to stare incredulously skyward.
‘It’s perhaps a meteor, Commodore,’ cried Arm- strong. ‘Or maybe a comet. But, call it what you will, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.’
A buzz of discussion broke out among the lookouts in the high rigging, and many ratings and officers not currently on watch began stumbling sleepily onto the decks to peer u into the night sky.
‘The ancients, I think, Mr. Armstrong, would have construed this remarkable appearance in the heavens as a favorable omen for any sort of enterprise, wouldn’t they?’ called Perry; leaning over the rail again. ‘What do you say?’
‘I’d say they would indeed, sir. - Armstrong paused and chuckled. ‘But perhaps the Japanese on shore will see it as just the reverse. They may take it as a sign that we “barbarians” are in league with the devil.’
For a long time there was silence from the quarterdeck and Eden could see that the commodore was still staring up at the sky. The brilliance of the glow from the moving sphere was now so intense that the masts and rigging of the flagship themselves seemed to have become an eerie source of illumination, giving off a strange electric-blue luminescence that was reflecting dramatically in the water all around the ship.
‘Whatever it is, Armstrong, I think we’ll take a leaf from the book of the ancients: Perry called down at last, a light-hearted note evident in his voice. ‘We’ll construe the apparition, for all official purposes, as being an encouragement to our expedition.’
‘Amen to that,’ called Armstrong in reply. ‘And your view must be much better up there. I’ll come and join you, if I may.’
‘You may, Armstrong. You may. Come up at once.’ The commodore disappeared from the quarterdeck rail, and the missionary hurried away to mount the port ladder. Left alone, Eden stood gazing up at the brilliant source of light, which was still climbing as it headed slowly north-cast over the sea. Gradually the glow spread inland until it reached the distant mountains, and the perfect, white-topped cone of Mount Fuji came into view. Bathed by this luminous blue glare, the volcano was transformed into a giant beacon of nature that far outshone all the fires on the coast and, as he stared at the extraordinary twin images, Eden was reminded suddenly of his dream of the previous night.
The memory caused a tangible sensation of wellbeing to spread through his whole body, and he experienced again the same powerful feelings of awe and wonder which had seized him in his dream when he pulled the cloak of stars down from the heavens.
Despite the many tensions of the day, he felt calm, alert and clear-minded.
How long he remained by the gunport looking at the sky; he could not tell. The source of light continued to move north-eastward in a slow arc, dipping down towards the sea again after it had reached its zenith. But although it continued to move only slowly Eden found he could not tear his eyes from it while it remained in sight.
‘Is it good omen, master? Or is it bad? Perhaps it is telling us we should not go ashore!’
Sentaro, drawn out from under the fo’c’s’le by the commotion, had crept soundlessly back to the spar deck and was crouching in the shadow of the bulwark. He had posed his questions in an anxious whisper and was now staring up expectantly at Eden, his eyes wide with apprehension.
‘I don’t know what it is - or what it means,’ replied Eden, quietly. ‘And I’m not going to try and guess. But I do know it’s made me feel one thing for certain.’
‘What’s that, master?’
‘That this isn’t the time for hesitation! Go back to your berth now and finish fixing those belts and pouches. We’re going to swim ashore tonight!’
11
MATSUMURA TOKIWA awoke -with a start, to find her darkened room at the inn suffused with an eerie glow of blue light. For an instant or two she believed she was caught up in a nightmare and she let out a little whimper of alarm. Then, on hearing a faint, persistent tapping on the shoji separating her room from the balcony, she realized that she was not dreaming after all.
Bewildered and confused by the strange blue glow, she rose from beneath her sleeping quilt and tiptoed apprehensively towards the screens, unsure of what she would find if she opened them. As she hesitated with her hand hovering above the latch, the tapping began again and she heard a frightened female voice whispering her name.
‘Please let me in, O Tokiwa-san. It’s Eiko, your maid!’
As soon as Tokiwa had parted the screens, the maid pushed hurriedly into the room. She was shivering with fright and peered anxiously over her shoulder. Looking past her, Tokiwa caught sight of the radiant blue orb that was lighting up land and sky alike with its unearthly glow. Its nucleus was now dipping close to the distant horizon but its reddish- blue wake of phosphorescence streamed out across the starry heavens in spectacular waves of colour, like paint hurled from an artist’s brush. Tokiwa stood rooted to the spot, her fists pressed to her face, staring at the apparition in an awed silence.
‘What is it, Eiko?’ she gasped. “What’s happening?’
‘Close the shoji, Tokiwa-san,’ pleaded the maid. ‘Close them quickly.’
The geisha hurriedly shut the screens and, turning to look at Eiko more closely, she found she had slung a wide hat of plaited bamboo around her shoulders and was clutching a bundle of clot1ing in her arms.
‘Do you want these now, Tokiwa-san?’ asked Eiko in a tremulous voice, displaying the blue cotton garments. ‘Will you still try to escape?’
‘What is that strange light?’ asked Tokiwa in a faint voice, looking again towards the garish glow now shining through the screens. ‘Es it some terrible device of the foreign barbarians?’
‘Nobody knows! But many think it is a sign of anger from our kami. The temple in my village is more crowded than ever. All the women are weeping and wailing. .
‘Is there no other possible explanation?’
‘Others say it’s an omen revealing that the gods of the foreign barbarians are all-powerful. Or perhaps the barbarians fired it into the sky from their volcano-ships...’ Suddenl
y Eiko thrust the bundle of clothes towards Tokiwa as though they were too hot to hold any longer. ‘I smuggled these up the ladder to the balcony when I saw the guards had rushed outside the inn gates. For the moment they have forgotten you. They are all standing in the street among the crowds staring at the sky.’
‘Quickly, hide them here!’ Tokiwa crossed to her sleeping pallet and lifted one end so that the maid could slip her bundle underneath. ‘And put the hat under my quilt.’
She watched Eiko unsung the hat from her shoulders and hide it with shaking hands. Then she led the way back to the balcony screens and eased them open once more. The light in the sky was descending faster now, though blazing ever more brightly. In its glare Tokiwa could see part of the large crowd outside the inn gates staring upward in silence, but the courtyard below her balcony was empty
‘I think this is the time for me to go!’ whispered Tokiwa. ‘The light is sinking, and it looks as if darkness will return soon. Everybody’s attention is distracted now.’
The maid nodded uncertainly. ‘But aren’t you afraid, Tokiwa-san?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid,’ replied the geisha. ‘But what if the gods have sent this light to aid my escape - and I waste my chance? Nobody’s watching now. I won’t get a better opportunity. Did you find a horse?’
‘Yes. It’s tethered to a tree at the side of the road half a mile to the west of the inn.’ She inclined her head to emphasize the direction. ‘It has two big panniers, and your blue ribbon is braided into its mane.’
‘Good, you’ve done very well.’ Tokiwa went quickly to the red lacquered box and took out four silver ichibus. Her eyes were suddenly bright with excitement as she offered them to the maid. ‘Take this extra money, please. And help me to dress quickly.’
The geisha removed her light under-kimono and waited unselfconsciously naked while the maid knelt to gather up the patched and threadbare peasant garments from their hiding place. On rising, Eiko paused in the act of unfolding a rough working shirt, and studied Tokiwa with a mixture of surprise and admiration. The strange light from the sky outside threw into relief the delicate contours of her body:
