Katsutaka’s spirits rose. Ōinosuké was noted for his subtlety, he knew, but could not be compared with Nobufusa in patient strategy. Once more Katsutaka began throwing things into the river, but the fresh sentinels were very much on the alert and examined everything that set the clappers rattling. Poor Katsutaka was feeling indeed hopeless when the heavy clouds that had been coming up unobserved, obscured the moon and there was a low rumble of thunder in the distance. Then with appalling swiftness the storm was upon them. The noise was terrific. The heavy rush of the rain that came down in sheets, the roar of the wind and the roll and rattle of thunder made a pandemonium of the erstwhile peaceful night.
Katsutaka had no fear of the elements; he only thought that now his course was clear. He danced and shouted for joy, knowing that he could be neither seen nor heard through the tumult and pitchy darkness. But no time was to be lost. The storm might pass over as rapidly as it had come. Stripping himself bare and tying his oil-paper package round his neck he slipped into the turbid waters and with his dagger cut some of the ropes that crossed it. The noisy clappers sounded faintly to the watchers on the opposite bank, but as some men were about to investigate their general stopped them.
“It is unnecessary, my men,” he said. “The clappers are moved by fish coming down the flood from the upper reaches of the river. None of the garrison opposite would be so mad as to attempt to cross in such a storm—it would mean instant death. Therefore be reassured.”
“You speak truly, my lord,” assented one of the men. “It can only be fish as your honour says.”
Tossed and whirled about by the current, Katsutaka struggled to the opposite bank at a point about half a mile from where he had started. He found this part also well guarded, but hoped that under cover of the darkness and noise he might get through. Stealthily he was making his way when suddenly his foot slipped on the wet ground and he fell with a slight thud.
“Who goes there?” rang out the quick challenge in his ear.
Startled, Katsutaka scrambled to his feet and laid his hand on the hilt of his dagger.
“One of the patrol, sir,” he answered readily.
“Is that all? I pity you out in the storm. Pass on!”