Bloody Sunrise

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘Are they friends, do you suppose?’ Ebury muttered.

  ‘We have a treaty with them,’ Nicholas reminded him. ‘Anyway, we must be sure we treat them as friends.’ For even if he supposed they might drive the Japanese away with their revolvers, these men were their only hope of getting ashore. ‘And look there.’ He pointed at the banner standing in the prow of the foremost boat, on which the device was a cross enclosed in a ring. ‘They are Christians. Let’s hope they speak English,’ Nicholas said, as the boats came alongside, and faced the armour-clad figure which was first across the gunwale.

  The man had raised his visor, to reveal a young and remarkably pleasant countenance, with softly rounded features, at this moment looking suitably severe, but betrayed by the twinkle of the black eyes. And yet, the eyes themselves were unlike any Nicholas had seen, even in China; they almost seemed to possess two lids, which made them appear narrower and larger than European eyes, and yet mere slits in the smooth brown flesh. He slid down the ladder to the foredeck. ‘Welcome aboard Her Majesty’s Ship Juno!’ he said. ‘Or what is left of her. Sub-Lieutenant Nicholas Barrett, acting commander.’

  The Japanese in turn said something, speaking very quickly and with a somewhat high-pitched tone. His followers crowded the deck, running to and fro with excited cries, examining the various fittings, and starting to unlash the hatches.

  ‘Do you not speak English?’ Nicholas asked. ‘Do you speak Dutch?’ he asked in that language. As there was a considerable Dutch empire in the Far East, it had been suggested to him by Commander Longmore that he might do well to learn Flemish during his hours off watch.

  The officer held up his hand. ‘Speak slowly,’ he said, in that tongue. ‘You are an English warship. Bound where?’

  ‘Edo Bay.’

  ‘Ah, so,’ the man commented. ‘I am Shimadzu no-Tadatune.’

  ‘I am Sub-Lieutenant Nicholas Barrett,’ Nicholas repeated.

  ‘Your ship is wrecked,’ Tadatune commented, ingenuously. ‘Where is your crew?’

  ‘All drowned,’ Nicholas explained.

  ‘Ah, so,’ Tadatune said again. ‘There are only two of you left? You will come with me, ashore.’

  ‘Sir,’ Ebury said urgently, and Nicholas saw that the Japanese had managed to open several of the hatches and go below, and were now returning on deck carrying apparently everything they had been able to find, from clothing to crockery and cutlery, to rifles and ammunition, which they examined with great interest, all the while chattering in their high-pitched voices.

  ‘This ship, and everything on board it, is the property of Her Majesty’s Government,’ Nicholas protested.

  ‘This is no longer a ship,’ Tadatune objected. ‘It is a wreck, on the coast of Bungo. It belongs to our Lord of Satsuma, whose hatamoto I have the honour to be. Now, if you have belongings to bring ashore, gather them up.’

  Nicholas bit his lip, and glanced at Ebury. The effrontery of the Japanese was impossible, but on the other hand, they were entirely in his power, and he was their sole hope of getting ashore. ‘What’s he saying, sir?’ the midshipman asked; he spoke no Flemish.

  ‘He wants us to go ashore.’

  ‘Well, I think we should do as he says. We can do nothing more here. And we can’t stop them stripping the ship.’

  Nicholas knew he was right. He went below to his cabin, which was a shambles after the storm. It was also being thoroughly looted by several Japanese. ‘Avast there!’ he shouted at a man who was fingering his sextant, holding it up to squint through the eyepiece. Now he dropped the instrument – fortunately on to the bunk – and reached for his sword. ‘I meant no harm,’ Nicholas told him. ‘But if you draw your weapon I’ll be forced to break your head.’ He was just in the mood to do it.

  The man clearly did not understand him, but he realised his meaning, and more, that in the confined space of the cabin there was no room for him to display any swordsmanship. He backed away, and Nicholas hastily seized his kitbag and stuffed into it a clean uniform, shirts and underwear, as well as the sextant and his personal logbook. Then he went to the chartroom, and took the ship’s log as well; this would be essential evidence at his court-martial. He also buckled on the service revolver in its holster, and packed a box of cartridges.

  When he returned on deck, Ebury and Tadatune were waiting. The Japanese climbed over the gunwale and down into the waiting boat, beckoning them to follow. He gave a command, and the oars dipped into the water. Seated in the stern, Nicholas glanced over his shoulder at Juno, and felt a seaman’s pang of distress at the sight of the once proud little ship, now a total wreck.

  ‘A strange vessel,’ Tadatune remarked.

  ‘Have you not seen European warships before?’ Nicholas asked in surprise. ‘You speak Dutch.’

  ‘There is a Dutch factory in Nagasaki,’ Tadatune acknowledged. ‘I have seen their ships. But they are much bigger.’

  ‘We make our ships in all sizes,’ Nicholas told him. ‘Do not the Japanese?’

  The young man smiled. ‘There are no Japanese ships as big as yours. It is forbidden by law.’

  ‘That’s odd. A people living by the sea, and having no ambition to sail upon it? But you must have had a great deal of contact with the West,’ Nicholas suggested, ‘as you are a Christian.’

  ‘There used to be many Christians in Bungo,’ Tadatune conceded. ‘But that was more than two hundred years ago, before Christianity was prohibited by the Shōgun.’

  Nicholas frowned. ‘But your flag . . .’

  Tadatune glanced up. ‘That is the crest of my family, the Shimadzu of Satsuma. We are the greatest lords of Kyushu. The crest represents a horse’s bit and bridle, not a cross.’

  Nicholas decided it would be unwise to probe further at that moment. The sun had now risen far enough to dispel the worst of the mist, and as they approached the land he could see the brown sand of a beach and then green fields which rose in gentle cultivated terraces to hills in the background, no less green, while away to the right he thought he could make out the roofs of a township, although they were the oddest roofs he had ever seen. A few minutes later the galley grounded, having been driven straight at the beach, and Tadatune leapt over the side, turning to face them, with his arms expanded. ‘Welcome to Japan.’

  *

  ‘We must send a message to the British consul in Edo,’ Nicholas explained, when he was ashore. ‘Informing him of what has happened. And Midshipman Ebury and I must make our way there as soon as it can be arranged.’

  ‘You must first speak with my father,’ Tadatune said. ‘Besides, you need food, and rest. Come.’ Once again Nicholas looked back at the ship, now clearly visible even at a distance, and still surrounded by Japanese galleys. There was not going to be much left of her in twenty-four hours. But from his point of view, there was nothing left of her now, as he had jettisoned her guns. And he was exhausted, and hungry for some decent food; he could tell Tom Ebury felt the same.

  They followed Tadatune along the beach, towards the distant houses. There were other boats on the beach, but no suggestion of a breakwater, or even the rudiments of a harbour. Nor could he see any sign of a proper road, or any traffic; indeed, there was not a horse to be seen. However, now they encountered a group of people, poorly dressed, with bare feet and great flat hats, like upturned plates; the women were similarly clad, and both men and women hastily dropped to the earth and bent over to touch it with their heads as Tadatune approached. ‘Are these people slaves?’ Nicholas asked in surprise.

  ‘No, no. They are farmers.’

  ‘Then why do they perform the kowtow to you?’

  ‘Because I am a samurai, the nephew of a daimyo,’ Tadatune explained. ‘I am as far above these people as is the sun you see above us. Thus they must show me proper respect. But they have their place. A farmer is superior to any artisan or merchant, and far above any eta or honin, those unhappy beings who are forced to handle the flesh of dead animals.’

  ‘You mean butch
ers. But if you eat meat,’ Nicholas argued, ‘you are all taking part in the butchery.’

  ‘To take life, from any living creature, is a mortal sin, Lieutenant Barrett,’ Tadatune pointed out. ‘Only to be justified by the requirements of honour, or self-defence, or survival. Certainly killing animals is unjustifiable. Perhaps we seek to vary our diet, weak vessels that we are, by eating birds or catching fish; yet those who are obliged to kill such creatures will surely never be forgiven by the gods, and therefore must be counted the lowest of the low.’

  Nicholas again decided not to pursue what seemed to him to be a specious argument: he needed the help of this man, or his uncle, to gain Edo. Yet he could not resist commenting, ‘And yet I observe that you carry two swords, Mr Tadatune, and look as if you know how to use them.’

  ‘Indeed I do, as I am a samurai. But I will never take life, except in battle. For indeed, how else may a samurai die? Like a dog in his bed? Thus the honin, that I mentioned. They are lower even than the eta, for it is their unhappy lot to handle the death of humans, either the execution of the criminal or the burial of the dead.’

  Nicholas scratched his head. ‘Then where do we fit into your social scheme of things, Mr Tadatune? We are sailors, officers in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. But you have no navy.’

  Tadatune smiled. ‘It will be ordered in due course, Barrett san. But everyone must have his place in society, and must know his place.’

  ‘You mean you would acknowledge a superior.’

  ‘But of course. I am better than a mere samurai, that is to say, anyone entitled to bear arms; I am a hatamoto, which means, literally, a flag bearer. I command a regiment of men, who march beneath the flag of my uncle, the Satsuma.’

  ‘The daimyo?’

  ‘That is correct. The word means a lord who holds lands in fief. Every daimyo in turn acknowledges the superiority of the Shōgun, who in turn governs the Empire in the name of the Emperor, the Mikado. I must yield in rank and property to any daimyo, just as any daimyo, even the Shōgun, must yield to the rank of the kuge.’

  ‘Some kind of god, no doubt.’

  Tadatune shook his head, and this time he did not smile.

  ‘Do not joke about your betters, Barrett san. The kuge are the nobles of the Mikado’s court in Kyoto. They have no land, but because they are the oldest families in the empire, they are inferior only to the Mikado himself.’

  ‘And is the Mikado inferior to anyone?’

  Tadatune bowed towards the sun, now high in the sky. ‘The Mikado is the descendant and therefore the vice-regent of the gods, and as such holds the entire empire in fief. Now come, we have arrived.’

  *

  They had entered the village Nicholas had seen from the boat. If it could be so-called, for anything less like an English village could hardly be imagined. The path they followed was wide and unpaved, and therefore dusty, and yet lacking the cart-wheel ruts he would have expected. Both the shipwreck and the approach of the two foreigners having been seen, there was a crowd of people gathered on either side in front of the houses, all wearing the loose gowns Nicholas had noticed earlier, and the wide hats, so that at first glance it was difficult to separate women from men. But the houses, although with deep sloping roofs, had walls made of the thinnest wood, merely lacquered to give them at once a splendid appearance and some semblance of strength; he never doubted that with a single blow of his fist he could enter any of them. ‘You will find comfort here, Barrett san,’ Tadatune said, leading the two Englishmen to the largest of the houses, although it was no more substantially built than any of the others. It was astonishingly narrow; the doorway itself occupied almost the entire street frontage, suggesting enough space within to allow perhaps four men into the hall.

  ‘Is this your house, Mr Tadatune?’ Nicholas asked.

  The young Japanese smiled. ‘I do not live in this village. This is the inn. There is an inn in every village for the comfort of weary travellers, and surely there can be no more weary travellers than yourselves. Now come, Masaru Toshiro is anxious to bid you welcome.’ He led the two Englishmen up a short flight of steps, and here paused, stepping out of his sandals as he did so. ‘You will take off your shoes, Barrett san. And tell your companion to do likewise.’

  ‘Sir?’ Nicholas demanded, glancing over his shoulder at the crowd which had now accumulated behind them.

  ‘Street wear, Barrett san, especially when it is as large and heavy as yours, is not permitted within our houses. Come, the young lady wishes to assist you.’

  Nicholas realised that the door of the inn was open, and a girl knelt there, holding in each hand a pair of slippers. He could not see anything beyond the glossy head of raven hair. It was longer than any he had previously beheld, lying in a vast black cascade over her shoulders and down her back, where at last it was fastened in a tress which swept the floor. Beneath this the deep blue kimono suggested the sea at midnight. The entire picture was one of such grace and beauty he felt the depression caused by weariness and by having lost his ship and his comrades lifting from his shoulders like a cloud. Hastily he pulled off his boots and arranged them beside Tadatune’s sandals. Tom Ebury followed his example. The girl was already sliding slippers on to Tadatune’s feet, and now she did the same for Nicholas, with the most marvellously gentle hands he could imagine. Tadatune now removed his breastplate, to show that he wore a garment similar to his less distinguished countrymen, although of a far better quality than any Nicholas had seen in the street, in deep crimson. Now he took off his helmet as well, to reveal a strange hairstyle, for his scalp was shaved in two wide swathes on either side of the crown, to leave only a patch of hair in the centre; this had been allowed to grow until it was clearly as long as the girl’s, but instead of lying loose, it was bound up in a large knot on top of his head. He replaced his two swords in his sash and smiled at Nicholas’s obvious interest. ‘You must go with this young lady.’

  The girl raised her head to give them an anxious smile. Nicholas was entranced. Here was a perfectly oval face, thickly covered in white paint to which had been added a trace of rose on each cheek. The paint seemed to delineate every feature, a straight, high nose; a small but perfectly carved mouth; slightly thin lips; and above, a narrow forehead, framed in the arch of black hair. And then the eyes, black, soft, and utterly welcoming. And then? The robe hid all else. But the roundness of her neck, the delicacy of her small hands and feet, which for the first time became visible as she rose to bow, promised nothing but delight.

  ‘By God, she’s a picture,’ Nicholas muttered in English.

  ‘She is indeed, sir,’ Ebury agreed. ‘But I hope she is going to offer us some breakfast.’

  ‘Food awaits you,’ Tadatune assured him, understanding their hunger if not his words. ‘Once you have been purefied.’

  ‘Purefied?’ Nicholas demanded.

  ‘Bathed, Barrett san.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’d enjoy a bath. But if you don’t mind, Mr Tadatune, we’d rather eat first.’

  Tadatune shook his head, still gently smiling. ‘You people from across the oceans are all the same, Barrett san. Barbarians, once in the presence of food. But no man may eat until he has bathed. The young lady will look after you.’

  Nicholas sighed. But they seemed to have no choice. ‘Then you’d better introduce us, Mr Tadatune.’

  ‘She is Masaru Toshiro’s daughter. Her name is Masaru Sumiko.’

  Chapter Two – Bushido

  ‘We’d best follow the custom of the country, Tom,’ Nicholas decided. ‘Lead on, Miss Masaru.’ The girl glanced at the hatamoto, who said something in Japanese. Now she smiled, and rose to her feet, hands tucked into the voluminous sleeves of her gown. She walked in front of them, noiselessly, and Nicholas realised that the inn, if narrow, was by no means small, but stretched inwards from the street for a considerable distance. They followed a corridor, on the right of which were a succession of small rooms, as strange as the house itself; every one seemed devoid of furniture, sa
ve for the mats which covered the floor.

  After they had passed several of these rooms, Masaru Sumiko halted before a closed door, and said something, surprisingly loudly, her voice high, with a delightful lilting quality. The door opened, and they were greeted by two more young women, who bowed almost to the ground. They had arrived at the rear of the inn, and found themselves entering a small garden, surrounded by a white wall. There was no topiary work, and no flower beds; instead, there was a series of orderly shrubs, separated by a path, not paved, but composed of smoothly rounded stones; farther off, in the corner of the garden, there were several dwarf trees, but all of a variety unknown to the Englishmen. Yet a great deal of work, and upkeep, was clearly lavished on the garden. As they followed their two guides along the path Nicholas saw that the trees were planted upon a raised embankment at the far end, and this embankment was landscaped like any park, although scarce measuring twelve feet across, with the model of a building nestling amidst the trees and a stream flowing through the centre to cascade into a pool at their feet. ‘I say,’ Ebury remarked. ‘Isn’t that beautiful?’

  They reached the end of the path, and found themselves before two sheds, both low and small. One of the girls opened the door on the right. ‘I’ll take this one,’ Nicholas decided. ‘You can have the other.’

  He ducked his head, and stepped inside; the ceiling was too low to permit him to stand upright. But the room was large, and very hot; it was like entering an oven, and steam rose from beneath the floor. The floor itself was composed of wooden slats, laid somewhat apart from each other to form a grating; beneath it there was a deep trench cut in the earth. At the far end of the room, let into the floor, there was a huge steaming tub of water, big enough for several people at the same time. Tom brushed his shoulder as he too entered. ‘Seems we have to share the tub,’ he explained. ‘They’ll not let me in next door.’