The constables were returning one by one. No one had seen Tora or the man he had followed. Akitada looked around at the people who were slowly emerging from their hiding places again. They all looked either hostile or frightened. He sighed.
“What are your orders, Excellency?” asked Maeda.
“Keep asking questions, but not here. I doubt anyone here will give any help to the authorities. You must find Hiroshi. I’ll leave you my soldiers. Make use of them. As soon as you have any information, let me know. I’ll be staying at your headquarters for the time being.”
25
The light from the open hatch was blinding, but Shigeno tossed his grappling hook and jerked the rope hard. There was a cry; then a man fell past Tora, nearly knocking him off the ladder. Down below, his scream turned into a sickening gurgle.
No time to look or wonder. Shigeno was already through the open hatch. Shouts and screams greeted him. Tora scrambled up and out, cudgel in hand, squinting into the light.
He had a vague impression of running people and of the gray sea and the large white sails above them. Shigeno was swinging his grappling hook by its short rope. Tora got a quick look at his powerful physique and his long hair and full beard, then he saw the guards in their half armor drawing their swords.
An uneven battle at best.
Beyond the figure of Shigeno wading into a hopeless confrontation, sailors were running everywhere in the gray daylight and the spray of seawater.
The two convicts came up beside Tora, one tall and thin, the other short. He doubted he’d done anyone a favor by encouraging them to fight their way to freedom, for here came men with knives and swords.
A sailor with a long, curved knife was in front. He attacked with a shout. Tora raised his oar handle to parry the knife, but the pain in his side shot through him like a flame. He saw the sailor through a haze of agony and desperation, knowing that, in a moment, he would be dead. He would be killed, and so would the others. Already he could feel the blade slicing into his body, but he could do nothing about it.
Then an object flew past him and struck the sailor, who went down on one knee. Tora finally moved, swinging his stick as hard as he could at the other man’s head. Even with the noise of sails, sea, and fighting, he heard the crack of the impact and saw the man fall over, blood gushing from his nose.
Another sailor rushed him from the side. Tora jumped away and swung hard at an extended arm. He saw a knife flying through the air and over the rail into the sea beyond. The man screamed, fell to his knees, cradling his hand against his chest, and Tora kicked him hard in the face. A shadow darted past and swung an iron spike. The sailor collapsed.
But already there were more attackers. A sailor went for one of the convicts, and a guard charged Tora.
Tora side-stepped the sword, and parried. The guard was not a very good swordsman, but a man with a sword had little trouble killing another man who only brandished a broken oar.
They danced around each other. Tora slipped on the wet deck and went down just as the other man swung at his neck. Dropping his oar handle, Tora grabbed the man’s leg and jerked it out from under him. The sword flew from his hand, slid away, and fell down the hatch opening. The guard kicked with both legs and scored a glancing blow to Tora’s chin, but Tora had found his oar and came to his knees, swinging it at the man’s face. The guard fell; blood poured from his nose and mouth, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Getting to his feet, Tora looked around desperately. There must be a way to stop this, to convince these men of who he was.
Shigeno was at the other end of the ship, a couple of guards squirming on the deck near him. He still swung his grappling hook and drove forward as sailors backed away from him.
One of the convicts, perhaps the one who had saved Tora’s life, lay a few feet away, unmoving, his face in a puddle of blood.
Across the way, more men were advancing on Shigeno. Tora went to his aid, lashing out at the nearest sailor. His oar handle connected with the man’s head, and he went down. But another sailor had seized a length of chain and now came for Tora, swinging it much like Shigeno did his grappling hook. Someone shouted, “Kill the bastards!” Tora ducked under the flailing chain and felt pain slice through his side again as he head-butted the sailor in the stomach. The other made an “oof” sound, bent double, and sat down. A vicious slash from Tora’s stick finished him off. Tora was no longer trying to spare lives. This was a battle to the death.
More sailors were coming. Someone shouted commands. Through the noise, Tora heard the convict reciting his sutra again; only now there was a fierce rhythm to the sacred words. He saw him, a tall scarecrow of a man, swinging a long knife as he fought to kill or be killed. Even so, the odds were hardly improving.
But Tora found new strength. He met the next sailor near the side of the ship and struck at his knees. The man screamed and fell. Tora hauled him up and pushed him over the side, hoping he could swim. Some object missed his head but struck his back. For a moment he could not catch his breath. When he swung around, he barely parried a curved knife wielded by a huge bear of a sailor. Tora’s oar handle had a sharp, pointed end where the blade had broken off, leaving a long splinter behind. Tora ducked and buried the point in the man’s side. He screamed, and the knife fell from his hand.
Tora snatched up the weapon, hesitated a moment, then plunged back into battle. How many left?
The skinny convict had disappeared, but near the front of the ship, Shigeno was still laying about him with the iron grappling hook. One sailor was covered in blood. Another saw the vicious, toothed hook coming for his face, shrieked, and flung himself overboard.
Something else hit Tora’s right shoulder. When he turned, he saw a sailor with a bloody knife and then felt the pain and the hot blood. He tried in vain to raise his own knife. Gasping, he jumped aside just a moment before the sailor’s blade went into his chest. His right arm would not obey, but he kneed the man in the groin, and when his attacker fell groaning, he kicked the knife from his hand.
He clutched his useless arm, dripping blood, and looking for escape. He knew he was done for. To his surprise, Shigeno was beside him. He, too, was bleeding badly; his shirt was soaked and had turned crimson. In spite of his wounds, Shigeno finished off the groaning sailor with the hook, snatched up his knife, and turned to meet new attackers.
“Stop!”
The shout came from the middle of the boat and broke off the fighting.
A red-coated policeman had appeared from somewhere below. Reluctantly, guards and sailors retreated. The policeman looked at Tora and Shigeno. “Give yourselves up and nothing will happen to you,” he shouted. His voice was sharp and high. He sounded frightened though he stood among guards.
Tora heaved a sigh of relief. He stepped forward and shouted back, “I’m a tribunal officer. This is an illegal ship engaged in murder for hire. Arrest the captain and put him in the hold. He’s in the pay of a criminal gang.”
One of the sailors burst out laughing. Others joined in. “Very funny!” the policeman shouted with a laugh. He had found his voice of authority. “You’re a convict. All of you’ve committed crimes and killed people. Give up, and you’ll serve your sentence. If you resist, you’ll die.”
“There’s your answer.” Shigeno sounded bitter. He was leaning against the side of the ship, looking pale beneath his tan. Several bodies lay about the deck, but there were still some six or eight men standing with the policeman, and other sailors were elsewhere. Tora did not see the two convicts. Perhaps they were both dead by now. There was a good deal of blood all over the deck.
What if this was a legitimate transport? Tora knew they had killed men. It was no use trying to explain it away. The memory sickened him as his blood still dripped down his arm and onto the boards he stood on.