In trepidation Catzu looked about him. The silent, absorbed patriots were at their guns. Directly across from the sally-port within the works the gun of Jiro had been placed in position. The youth bent forward, was sighting the piece, while Toro, arms akimbo, stood back, approval written upon his face.
“Guns and men,” muttered Catzu; then, catching sight of Toro, he almost rushed upon him. Toro, surprised, turned about and faced his father.
“Thou recreant son!” roared the senior Lord of Catzu. Meeting his father’s eyes squarely, Toro kept silence.
“Thou art,” said Catzu, “truly a vicious product. Hast thou forgotten all the precepts of honor taught thee from childhood? Thou art no son of mine, nor indeed of Japan, for what man can be a patriot with honor who sets his father at defiance? It is admitted by even those more ignorant than thou that a true son owes his first allegiance in life to his parent.”
“Nay, my lord,” replied Toro, quickly. “You do labor under a mistake. The first allegiance a son of Japan owes to any man is that claimed of him by his supreme master, the Emperor. Banzai, the Mikado!”
Mori stepped quietly before the enraged Catzu.
“Now, my Lord of Catzu,” he said, “you shall have my answer.”
As he spoke, he caught up a light rifle from a guard at the gate and fired into the air. Instantly the crews, with hoarse cries, elevated their pieces until their muzzles stood above the breastworks; carefully they trained them upon the ships.
“Ready, my lord,” shouted Toro.
“Ready, my lord,” echoed Oguri.