The camp was in the shape of an elongated circle, whose circumference was regularly defined by field-pieces set at regular intervals, and trained to oppose any invading force. Near each cannon were tethered the horses furnishing the motive power. Hard by, stretched upon the ground, or lounging within the scant shadows of the gun-carriages, were the artillerymen. Infantry guards, in armor, and for the most part armed with rifles, patrolled the space without the circle. Other soldiers and samurai, armed only with swords, sat in the openings of tents assigned to their division, or occupied the time in sword exercise in the open spaces between their shelters. Near the centre of the encampment were assembled the horses of the cavalry division, saddled and in complete readiness for their riders, who lounged near by.
Within a short stone’s-throw of the horsemen was pitched what seemed, from its commanding position on a little eminence, the tent of the commander of the “Irregulars.” Close by its entrance stood an enormous samurai, whose naked sword was held lightly, carelessly, in his hand. In conversation with him stood a hardy youth, attired as a cavalryman.
The curtains of the tent on the eminence were parted deftly, and the slight figure of a boy hastened towards the two.
“My Lord of Catzu,” he said, “the Prince Mori desires your presence, and that of you also, Sir Genji.”
Toro smiled at the youth’s ceremoniousness.
“Is there news, my Jiro?” he asked.
“Oguri, as you know, has arrived from the south, and our enemies have reported concerning the condition of the city.”
The three hastened within, where they found Oguri and Mori.
“Now, then, Oguri, your news,” commanded Mori.
“Your highness,” said Oguri, “the British have bombarded Kagoshima as a result of our attack upon the foreign fleet.”