Mori made a sign. Instantly a heavy discharge rent the air and shook the ground whereon they stood.
Jiro, at his gun, directly before Mori and Catzu, himself applied the match, and then, stepping back, squinted along the piece to see the effect of his fire. The ball broke a foremast on the leading vessel. In consternation Catzu left the place, the design of the crafty Mori to embroil him with the enemy through his accidental presence dawning upon him.
For upward of an hour the firing continued. At the end of that period the ships drew off from range. Mori, elated at having held his own against the foreigners, and now certain of the consequences of his action, withdrew his people from the batteries. That night the army rested, for Mori knew that the foreigners would lay the cause of the bombardment to the shogunate and make new demands upon it.
The next day a courier from the Kioto court entered his works.
“It is some new mark of the Mikado’s regard,” cried Toro, impulsively.
Sadly Mori smiled.
“I fear me it is,” he said.
With a calm face and firm hand Mori opened the despatch. His face darkened.
“What is it?” cried Toro.
“We are branded as outlaws,” answered Mori, his spirit quite gone, a deathly pallor creeping over his face. “We are forbidden to approach the Imperial city.”