The yakunin or public business men of Uraga had other work to do that day than to smoke, drink tea, lounge on their mats, or to collect the customs from junks bound to Yedo. As soon as the ships were sighted, the buniō, his interpreter, and satellites, donned their ceremonial dress of hempen cloth and their lacquered hats emblazoned with the Tokugawa trefoil, thrust their two swords in their belts, their feet in their sandals, and hied to the water’s edge. Their official barge propelled by twelve scullsmen shot out to the nearest vessel. By their orders a cordon of boats provisioned for a stay on the water was drawn around the fleet; but the crews, to their surprise could not fasten their lines to the ships nor climb up on board. The “hairy barbarians,” as was not the case with previous visitors, impolitely pitched off their ropes, and with cocked muskets and fixed bayonets really threatened to use the ugly tools if intruders mounted by the chains. A great many naru hodo (the equivalent of “Well I never!” “Is it possible?” “Indeed!”) were ejaculated in consequence.
Mr. Nakashima Saburosŭké (or, in English, Mr. Middle Island, Darling No. 3) vice-governor, and an officer of the seventh or eighth rank, was amazed to find that even he, a yakunin and dressed in kami-shimo uniform, his boat flying the governor’s pennant, and his bearers holding spears and the Tokugawa trefoil flag, could not get on board. The i-jin (outlanders) did not even let down their gangway ladder, when motioned to do so. This was cause for another official naru hodo. The barbarians wished to confer with the governor himself. Only when told that the law forbade that functionary from boarding foreign ships, did they allow Mr. Nakashima and his interpreter Hori Tatsunosūké (Mr. Conch Dragon-darling,) to board. Even then, he was not allowed to see the grand high yakunin of the fleet, the Commodore, who was showing himself master of Japanese tactics.
Perry was playing Mikado. The cabin was the abode of His High Mighty Mysteriousness. He was for the time being Kin-réi, Lord of the Forbidden Interior. He was Tennō, (son of the skies) and Tycoon (generalissimo) rolled into one. His Lieutenant Contee acted as Nai-Dai-Jin, or Great Man of the Inner Palace. A tensō, or middle man, secretary or clerk, carried messages to and fro from the cabin, but the child of the gods with the topknot and two swords knew it not. Since the hermits of Japan were not familiar [with] the rank of Commodore, but only of Admiral, this title came at once and henceforth into use. The old proverb concerning the prophet and his honors abroad found new illustration in all the negotiations, and Perry enjoyed more fame at the ends of the earth than at home.
Mr. Nakashima Saburosŭké was told the objects for which the invisible Admiral came. He had been sent by the President of the United States on a friendly mission. He had a letter addressed to “the emperor.” He wished an officer of proper rank to be chosen to receive a copy, and appoint a day for the momentous act of accepting with all the pomp and ceremony and circumstance, so august a document from so mighty a ruler, of so great a power. The Admiral would not go to Nagasaki. With imperturbable gravity of countenance, but with many mental naru hodo, the dazed native listened. The letter must be received where he then was.
Further, while the intentions of the admiral were perfectly friendly, he would allow of no indignity. If the guard-boats were not immediately removed, they would be dispersed by force. Anxious above all things to preserve peace with the i-jin or barbarians, the functionary of Uraga rose immediately, and ordered the punts, sampans and guard-boats away.
This, the first and master move of the mysterious and inaccessible Commodore in the game of diplomacy, practiced with the Riu Kiu regent was repeated in Yedo Bay. The foiled yakunin, clothed with only a shred of authority, could promise nothing, and went ashore. There is scarcely a doubt that he ate less rice and fish that evening. Perhaps he left his bowl of miso (bean-sauce) untasted, his shiru (fish soup) unsipped. The probabilities approach certainty that he smoked a double quota of pipes of tobacco. A “hairy” barbarian had snubbed a yakunin. Naruhodo!
Darkness fell upon the rice fields and thatched dwellings. The blue waters were spotted with millions of white jelly-fishes looking as though as many plates of white porcelain were floating submerged in a medium of their own density. Within the temples on shore, anxious congregations gathered to supplicate the gods to raise tempests of wind such as centuries ago swept away the Mongol armada and invaders. The “divine breath” had wrought wonders before, why not now also?
Indoors, dusty images and holy pictures were cleansed, the household shrines renovated, fresh oil supplied to the lamps, numerous candles provided, and prayers uttered such as father and mother had long since ceased to offer. The gods were punishing the people for neglect of their altars and for their wickedness, by sending the “ugly barbarians” to destroy their “holy country.” Rockets were shot up from the forts, and alarm fires blazed on the headlands. These were repeated on the hills, and told with almost telegraphic rapidity the story of danger far inland. The boom of the temple bells, and the sharp strokes on those of the fire-lookouts, kept up the ominous sounds and spread the news.
For several years past unusual portents had been seen in the heavens, but that night a spectacle of singular majesty and awful interest appeared. At midnight the whole sky was overspread with a luminous blue and reddish tint, as though a flaming white dragon were shedding floods of violet sulphurous light on land and sea. Lasting nearly four hours, it suffused the whole atmosphere, and cast its spectral glare upon the foreign ships, making hull, rigging and masts as frightfully bright as the Taira ghosts on the sea of Nagatō. Men now living remember that awful night with awe, and not a few in their anxiety sat watching through the hours of darkness until, though the day was breaking, the landscape faded from view in the gathering mist.
The morning dawned. The barbarians had remained tranquil during the night. The unhappy yakunin probably forgot the lie[[27]] he had told the day before, for at 7 o’clock by the foreigners’ time, the governor himself, Kayama Yézayémon, with his satellites arrived off the flag-ship. Its name, the Susquehanna, struck their fancy pleasantly, because the sound resembled those of “bamboo” (suzuki) and “flower” (hana). The grand dignitary of Uraga in all the glory of embroidery, gilt brocade, swords, and lacquered helmet with padded chin straps, ascended the gangway as if climbing to the galleries of a wrestling show. Alas, that the barbarians, who did not even hold their breath, should be so little impressed by this living museum of decorative art. There was not one of them that fell upon his hands and knees. Not one Jack Tar swabbed the deck with his forehead. Some secretly snickered at the bare brown legs partly exposed between the petticoat and the blue socks. This buniō in whose very name are reflected the faded glories of the old imperial palace guard in medieval Kiōto, was accustomed to ride in splendid apparel on a steed emblazoned with crests, trappings and tassels, its mane in pompons, and its tail encased, like an umbrella, in a silk bag. His attendant outwalkers moved between rows of prone palms and faces, and of upturned top-knots and shining pates. Now, he felt ill at ease in simple sandals on the deck of a mighty ship. The “hairy foreigners” were taller than he, notwithstanding his lacquered helmet. In spite of silk trousers, and rank one notch higher than the official of yesterday, he was unable to hold personal intercourse with the Lord of the Forbidden Interior. The American Tycoon could not be seen. The buniō met only the San Dai Jin, Captains Buchanan and Adams, and Lieutenant Contee. A long discussion resulted in the unalterable declaration that the Admiral would not go to Nagasaki. He would not wait four days for an answer from Yedo, but only three. The survey boats would survey the waters of the bay.