Bloody Sunrise

by Christopher Nicole

  A boatload of sailors had erected a large tarpaulin at one end of the beach, to form a makeshift marquee, and here several drums were being placed, close together, and covered with a dark cloth, while chairs had also been brought from the ships and arranged behind the extemporised table. To this shade there now came the Admiral and his senior officers to enjoy a meal, a very tasty meal, Nicholas estimated, watching the wine being poured and the cheese and sweetmeats being passed around.

  He was fed as well, although his meal consisted of a lump of salt pork, a very hard biscuit, and a mug of water which had been laced with rum. It was the first time in more than a year that he had eaten anything other than delicate Japanese food or drunk anything but sake and plum wine, and he found it revolting. He supposed it was to keep up his strength for the coming ordeal, which was upon him almost as soon as he had swallowed the last of the rum. A marine officer brought the guards to attention, and Nicholas was marched across the sand, to stand just inside the blessed shade of the tarpaulin, and gaze at Admiral Kuper, who was delicately wiping his hands with a linen napkin. Seated to either side of the Admiral were two other senior officers, helping to make up the panel of judges for the court-martial, but clearly only Kuper mattered. ‘Now then,’ the Admiral said. ‘It is a hot day and we do not wish to waste any more time than we already have. Bring the prisoner forward.’

  Nicholas was made to stand immediately in front of the drumhead table. ‘Read the charges, Mr Harragin,’ requested the Admiral.

  A lieutenant stood up with a sheet of paper in his hand. ‘Lieutenant Nicholas Barrett,’ he said. ‘You stand before this court accused of the following crimes: first, that on 18 September 1861, while temporarily in command of HMS Juno, you so hazarded the ship that she struck a reef and was stranded; second, that you refused to give the order to abandon ship, despite the fact that she was clearly a total loss, in clear dereliction of your duties as acting captain; third, that when the crew attempted to remonstrate with you, you threatened them with a revolver; fourth, that by your actions you caused your crew to man boats which were overcrowded and which subsequently capsized; fifth, that, having ascertained that all the members of the crew had apparently been lost save yourself, you then made contact with the shore and were rescued by local people, giving not a thought as to the fate of the men under your command; sixth, that, aware as you were of your crime, and equally aware that your duty as an officer, and, so far as you knew, the only survivor of the shipwreck, was to repair to Edo and report the loss of your ship to the Senior Naval Officer there, you instead deserted from the service of Her Majesty the Queen, and took service with the so-called Lord of Satsuma, a known enemy of your country; and lastly, that in the services of this Lord of Satsuma, you did command the guns that opened fire upon a boat from Her Majesty’s squadron, flying a flag of truce, and that you then continued to fire the guns against your countrymen until they were silenced by the action of Her Majesty’s ships. How plead you, guilty or not guilty?’

  Nicholas gazed at the judges, and past them at the yellow beach and the blue sea, all still overhung by the smoke pall from Kagoshima. He felt angry. These people, who knew nothing of the truth, and even less of what he had experienced and suffered, and over what he triumphed, were out to destroy him, with smug self-righteousness. Well, he thought, I’ll go down fighting. He had an ace up his sleeve – the Navy, and Reynolds, were apparently unaware that Tom Ebury had also survived the shipwreck, supposing he had also survived the bombardment. ‘In the main, I plead not guilty,’ he said. ‘But it is impossible to answer all of those accusations in a single breath.’

  Lieutenant Harragin looked at the Admiral, uncertainly. ‘I have never heard of such a plea. But,’ he added brightly, ‘I have a friend waiting here, Lieutenant Browning, who is prepared to undertake the defence. Perhaps if Lieutenant Barrett were to consult with his lawyer . . .’

  ‘How can he defend me when he knows nothing of the facts,’ Nicholas asked.

  Kuper sighed. ‘I knew this was going to be a waste of time. I suppose you are about to request a remand, in order that you may brief your advocate. I will have none of that. You claim you cannot answer all these charges together? Very well, sir, we will take them one at a time. We will be fair to Mr Barrett, Mr Harragin, and permit him to hang himself at his leisure. Now, Mr Barrett, you deny the charge of hazarding your ship by allowing it to approach too close to a reef off the coast of Bungo on 18 September 1861. Do you deny that you were in command of the vessel?’

  ‘No, sir. The Captain and First lieutenant had been washed overboard in the storm.’

  ‘You were on the bridge at the time Juno struck? Do you deny that you had been appointed navigation officer by Captain Longmore in order to ascertain the ship’s position during the storm? Thus you were responsible for the ship’s position when she struck the reef. The prisoner has pleaded guilty to the first charge, Mr Harragin. Now, Mr Barrett, let us take the second charge: do you deny refusing to give the order to abandon ship?’

  ‘It was my opinion that it was safest to remain with the ship. As proved by the fact that the ship was still intact twenty-four hours later, when I was rescued by the Japanese.’

  ‘The prisoner has pleaded guilty to the second charge, Mr Harragin. Now, Mr Barrett, for the third charge: do you deny that you threatened your people with a revolver?’

  ‘Well, sir, they were in a state of mutiny.’

  ‘The prisoner has pleaded guilty to the third charge, Mr Harragin. Mr Barrett, for the fourth charge: do you deny that your action panicked the crew into overcrowding the boats?’

  ‘I had commanded them to stay. They had determined to leave. There was nothing more I could do.’

  ‘You understand that it is your word against that of Petty Officer Reynolds, who at great personal risk and hardship, survived to tell the tale?’

  ‘I understand that it is Petty Officer Reynolds’ tale against the truth, sir,’ Nicholas said.

  ‘Very good, sir. The prisoner pleads not guilty to the fourth charge, Mr Harragin, but the matter will soon be disposed of. Now, Mr Barrett, for the fifth charge: do you deny making contact with the people of Bungo, and being rescued? And having been rescued, did you make any attempt to discover what had happened to your own people?’

  ‘I was rescued more than twenty-four hours after the crew had decided to abandon ship, sir. I then realised that I was a prisoner of the Japanese.’

  ‘The prisoner pleads guilty to the fifth charge, Lieutenant Harragin. Now, Mr Barrett, for the sixth charge, did you, or did you not, take service with this Satsuma person?’

  Nicholas drew a deep breath. ‘Lord Shimadzu informed me that if I helped train his men in modern warfare he would see that I was sent to Edo. I wrote a letter to the Senior Naval Officer in Edo, and I was promised that this would be delivered.’

  ‘Lord Shimadzu,’ Kuper sneered. ‘You took service with an enemy of Her Majesty’s Government.’

  ‘I did not know he was an enemy, sir. I perceived my course as the only way in which I could possibly regain the Navy.’

  ‘The prisoner pleads guilty to the sixth charge, Mr Harragin. Finally, Mr Barrett, let us take the seventh, and most serious charge: do you deny that you commanded the gun which fired at Her Majesty’s flag of truce, and later opened fire upon Her Majesty’s ships? As attested by that fellow over there?’ He gestured at one of the captured Japanese, who, clearly a servant rather than a samurai, knelt on the sand, his head bowed.

  ‘I was forced to it on pain of death, sir, as that fellow will also have to testify, if he is going to tell the truth.’

  ‘The prisoner pleads guilty to the seventh charge, Mr Harragin. Now, Mr Barrett, you have pleaded guilty to six of the seven charges brought against you . . .’

  ‘With respect, sir,’ Nicholas said, refusing to be browbeaten. ‘I have explained my reasons for acting as I did with regard to each charge brought against me. As for any guilt, it is a matter of my word against that of
Petty Officer Reynolds, who is a mutineer, and against that fellow, who is a honin. In Japan, that means he is a man without station or honour, to whom lying is second nature.’

  ‘Fortunately, we are trying this case according to English law, Mr Barrett. As for this yellow fellow, you have not denied his charge; you claim mitigating circumstances. The same does not apply with regard to Petty Officer Reynolds. Indeed, every accusation he has made against you is confirmed by your very presence in the Japanese camp.’

  ‘On the contrary, sir,’ Nicholas declared. ‘I do have evidence to support my claims, regarding all the charges.’

  Kuper stared at him. ‘Will you produce some Japanese witness to your actions? It won’t do, sir. It won’t do.’

  ‘The witness I shall produce has shared all of my experiences, Admiral,’ Nicholas said. ‘And will testify to the reasons for my actions. There was another survivor from HMS Juno: Midshipman Tom Ebury.’

  Kuper glanced at Reynolds, whose face had paled. ‘Indeed?’ Kuper inquired. ‘Was there a Midshipman Ebury serving on board Juno, Petty Officer?’

  Reynolds licked his lips. ‘Yes, sir, there was.’ He had no choice but to tell the truth, as he knew the Admiral could easily obtain a crew list on his return to Edo.

  ‘And you say this boy survived with you, Mr Barrett? Then where is he now?’

  ‘He was in the citadel when the bombardment began. He could be anywhere. I am sure he can be found.’

  ‘But I do not propose to waste my time in searching for him. Because I will tell you this: his evidence, in support of yours, would be as useless as if he had never existed.’

  ‘Sir?’ A huge lump of lead seemed to have formed in Nicholas’s stomach.

  ‘As far as I can see it, his guilt is no less than yours, and is attested by the simple fact that he is not here. He knows we are here, sir: the whole population of this benighted city knows that. But he is afraid to come forward. Is that not a confession of guilt?’

  ‘Sir, I must protest,’ Nicholas said. ‘Mr Ebury may be dead, or grievously wounded.’

  ‘Neither of those absolve him from the guilt of having remained with you, here in Kagoshima, serving this Satsuma fellow. No, no, Mr Barrett, you have twisted and turned and wasted the time of this court long enough. But we have found you out, sir, and you stand convicted on six of the seven charges brought against you. My sentence is that you be taken from here back to those battlements from which you so disgracefully fired upon your comrades, that you be held there under guard for a period of eighteen hours so that you may reflect upon your crimes, and that tomorrow morning at dawn you be hanged from those selfsame battlements, and your body left to dangle there until it rots, as a reminder to these yellow brigands of the fate that will be theirs should they ever again murder an Englishman.’

  *

  The sun set behind the mountains to the west of Kagoshima Wan, plunging the afternoon into gloom, immediately relieving the summer heat but doing little to abate the stench which pervaded the castle of Kagoshima. The flames had died down by now, and the palace of Shimadzu was nothing more than a burned-out shell. Some of the bodies had been pulled clear by the marines, but then had been thrown back into the dwindling fire by orders of the Admiral. To bury them all would have been a task beyond the capabilities of his force, especially as he was aware that most of the Japanese defenders had escaped from the fortress and the city, and were encamped on the high ground to the north. They were shocked and disorganised by the huge power which had been loosed against them, but they still were vastly superior in numbers to the British, and he had to anticipate a counter attack.

  Nicholas wondered just who had escaped. Shimadzu and his women? Saigo? Or had that noble warrior chosen to commit seppuku, to atone for his defeat? That, according to the law of bushido, would depend both on whether he felt he had been honourably defeated, and whether he hoped to be able to fight again. As for Tom, and Sumiko . . .

  His supper was the same salt meat and biscuit, the same watered-down rum, or grog, as it was known in the Navy: the Navy had always had its issue of alcohol, twice a day, but a hundred odd years earlier an admiral, Vernon, had decided that unadulterated spirits was bad for the sailors, and had insisted that it be diluted, half-and-half, with water. As Vernon was nicknamed Old Grogram, from the material of his coat, the abbreviated name had naturally been applied to his drink.

  The guard was changed. ‘You’d best try to sleep, Mr Barrett,’ one of the new men recommended, not unkindly. ‘No use in lying awake, brooding on it.’

  Sleep, Nicholas thought. That is all I have left to do, sleep forever. And dream of Sumiko, and their unborn child, and the life he had hoped to make for them both once they escaped from Kagoshima, and . . . he opened his eyes at the sound of footsteps, and gazed at her, standing in front of him. She was accompanied by a tall man wearing the robe and cowl of a Catholic priest. ‘What’s this?’ demanded the marine, getting up and presenting his rifle. His companion also rose.

  ‘Peace, my son,’ said the priest, speaking perfect English. Nicholas’s heart leapt as Tom threw back the cowl from his head. ‘I am Father O’Reilly. I am the head of the Catholic Mission here in Kagoshima.’

  ‘Is that a fact?’ queried the marine. ‘I didn’t know there was a Catholic Mission here. We was told the Japs was all savage heathens.’

  ‘One learns something of value every day,’ Tom said piously. ‘I understand that you are of the true faith, my son,’ he said to Nicholas.

  ‘Why, yes, Father,’ Nicholas lied, hoping that his Methodist ancestors would forgive him. ‘So I am.’

  ‘Then I am here to offer you words of comfort before you begin your last journey,’ Tom said. ‘But more. This young woman has come to me and confessed, how you have had your way with her, and that she is to bear your child. I cannot expect her ever to forgive you for the horrors you have perpetrated upon her, but at her request I would beg you to grant her the boon of marriage before you depart this life. Then you will at least have made her a widow rather than leave her as a concubine, and the child she carries will not have the name of bastard.’

  Nicholas’ brain teemed. There were only the two marines on the battlements with him, but the entire fortress was surrounded by British marines and sailors. On the other hand, Tom must have a plan . . . ‘Willingly, Father,’ he said.

  Tom spoke to Sumiko in Japanese, telling her to kneel beside Nicholas. ‘And you, marines, will act as witnesses,’ he said in English.

  ‘Well, if this ain’t the strangest thing I ever did see,’ remarked the first marine to his companion. But both men were plainly delighted; here was something to tell their messmates. And five minutes later, having conducted the service in Japanese as he did not know the correct English words, but with a good deal of waving of the hands and sonorous intonations, Tom pronounced them man and wife, in English.

  ‘I will not ask you to kiss the bride,’ Tom said. ‘Indeed, I am sure she would not wish it. But you have the pleasure of knowing that you have at least performed one generous act in your life. It now remains for you to make confession.’

  Nicholas’s heart was pounding so hard he was afraid the marines might hear it. But it was up to him to fall in with Tom’s plans, whatever they might be. ‘I would be happy to confess, Father,’ he said. ‘But I will not do so in front of these men.’

  ‘No one would expect you to,’ Tom said. ‘Is there somewhere we may go, where this man may relieve his conscience in private?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ said the first marine.

  ‘His hands are tied,’ Tom pointed out. ‘He can be of no danger to anyone. His wife will remain here with you.’

  Nicholas opened his mouth to protest, then changed his mind. Tom and Sumiko must have decided this together. ‘Well, now, that can’t be bad,’ said the second marine. The first guard looked Sumiko up and down; Sumiko’s hair was loose and tumbling past her waist, and if her figure was adequately concealed beneath her kimono,
she was clearly a grown woman. ‘Soon to be a widow,’ said the second marine, winningly.

  The first guard shrugged. ‘There’s that wall still standing, over there. I reckon you could go behind that. No further, mind.’

  ‘That will do very nicely,’ Tom said. ‘Come along, my son.’

  Nicholas followed Tom round the buttress, listened to laughter from the men and a hiss from Sumiko. ‘Was that necessary?’ he asked.

  ‘This whole thing is her idea,’ Tom told him, producing a knife to slit his bonds, and then taking two swords from beneath his robe. ‘It must be done quietly, with a single blow each.’

  ‘You mean to kill those men in cold blood?’

  ‘They are going to watch you hanged in cold blood in a few hours time.’

  ‘And when it is done, we are outcasts forever.’

  ‘We are outcasts forever now, Nick. Let us at least be live outcasts. Listen, the Japanese honour you for the way you fought those guns. They know they were beaten by superior force. Saigo wishes you to serve with him, now and forever. Our future is here, Nick. And you have no future at all if you do not escape this place.’

  ‘I’ll not commit murder,’ Nicholas said. ‘Come.’

  Tom hesitated for a moment, then followed him back round the buttress. Nicholas almost changed his mind when he listened to the giggles of the men, and saw that they had opened Sumiko’s kimono and were playing with her body, while one of them was unfastening his breeches. Certainly they were paying no attention to anything that might be going on about them, and they had both laid down their muskets. Nicholas nodded to Tom, thrust the sword through his belt, and picked up one of the guns. Tom did likewise, and the marines noticed them. ‘Hey,’ one said. ‘Father? What the devil . . .’