Within the huge walls all was silence; after the first notes of warning had been sounded Shibusawa ceased firing, and did not again give the order until the gates had been driven loose and begun to fall. Then a hundred guns poured shot and shell into the face of the onrushing spearsmen, and the carnage wrought at that gate was frightful. The dead piled high in the roadway, though again and again dragged from the path of the undaunted oncomers. Nor were the swordsmen less valiant, for everywhere they scaled the ramparts and rushed upon the infantry. Thus before long, Shibusawa had called out his last reserve, and more feebly repulsed the terrible onsets that came swifter and faster. Column after column of his advance had been wiped out, and one position after another yielded to the enraged enemy; yet his rear lines and the artillery kept up an incessant fire. Tetsutaishos men fell thick and fast about the gate and around the walls; the defenders fire was deadly, and the cost of each advance appalling.
Thus the battle raged and as yet neither had gained a victory. The ranks on the mikados side were thinning, and Shibusawa could not determine the reserve strength of the enemy. The shoguns advance had become maddened at the sight of such havoc, while the rear grew eager with expectation. Everywhere they scaled the walls, and a constant stream, though thinned and scarred, now poured through the battered gates. Tetsutaisho shouted a last advance, and the valley below swarmed with his mighty reserve. They did not halt, nor did they rush; but came determined and invincible.
Shibusawa groaned as the tremendous odds revealed themselves. He looked at his scattering few, then concentrated them, and cheered them for a last heroic stand. He had withstood a terrific advance, and now would resist a final onslaught, even to the last man. They were there to fight, and did not know the meaning of surrender; nor would they deign to retreat.
The solid columns advanced upon them,shot and shell could not check those swarming veterans,and the walls no longer offered much resistance. Tetsutaisho rushed forward; Shibusawa grasped his sword hilt; his men redoubled the fire and hurried into line. The crack of the rifle, the roar of the cannon, mingled to make the scene a cruel, sickening slaughter. Shibusawas little fragment seemed doomed, and he pressed forward to sacrifice himself on the altar of courage. Then a hand stretched forth from out the mists to save him; a shell burst and Tetsutaisho fell wounded in the distance.
The fallen hero, however, was quickly snatched up and carried to the rear, while the fight waxed hotter, and no sign of disorder appeared. Yet there was one who sat outside the gate, well shielded behind the walls; he felt sick with the sights everywhere greeting him, and as the stricken commander was carried into his presence he weakened and again changed his mind: when the victory rested within his grasp Hitotsubashi gave the order to retreat, and the remnant of Tetsutaishos splendid army ran pell-mell toward the place whence they came.
Nor did the hesitating shogun stop his flight until he had again reached Tokyo and securely locked himself within the gates at the palace. Shibusawa had been too much surprised and his force too greatly weakened to cut off the enemys retreat or follow up his own victory; a few straggling remnants were driven beyond the gory walls and begrimed gates, and there the successful commander halted, content.
For the first time in the history of their country the power of the machine over the individual had been fairly tried and fully demonstrated. A vastly greater force of valiant men had been held in check for hours by the quick and accurate firing of a few painless, heartless, soulless guns; though at a frightful cost and the most heroic trial they had ever known.