Before the sailors could drop their oars and obey, Keiki, who divined the significance of the words, ran rapidly along the sandy beach, disappearing beyond a headland.
“Damned awkward, this,” commented the lieutenant, “but it must be reported to the old man.” Then to his crew:
“Give way, men!”
XXX
HATEVER speculation the sudden friendly interposition of a Japanese into the American officer’s dilemma caused among the sub-officials in charge of the Treaty House, it did not run a lengthy course. News that was whispered about, first among the multitude of unofficial visitors crowding all the surrounding points of vantage not occupied by the Shogun’s troops, penetrated gradually to the focal spot of the greatest curiosity, the Treaty House. It was an event of secondary importance to the expected visit from the men-of-war. The princes Aidzu and Catzu had arrived from Yedo, and were now awaiting the foreigners in the quarters prepared for them.
Many of those present had never seen these powerful princes. So, crowding past the common soldiers, they pressed upon their headquarters, until stopped by the chosen guard of samurai surrounding the princely pavilions.
About the tent of Catzu the press of the mob was heaviest. The huge Sir Genji, toying with his glittering blade significantly whenever a curious citizen came too near the entrance, remarked grimly to a fellow-samurai: