“‘As you know, in nature there is a law of compensation. When a leg is injured or lost, an arm grows stronger. He who has not the sense of sight is frequently preternaturally blessed with the sense of touch or smell. In the bird world it is the same. For some reason, winglessness may be compensated for by a particular acuity of hearing. Historians speculate that Shobuta the Tender had a lovely voice, one particularly well suited to accommodate the soft nuances of gentle love songs. We scientists think it may have been particularly amenable to the sensitive hearing of the miraculous bird. The martial, fervent stridencies of patriotic petition were something else, as were the harsh noises of that awful battle. They were more than the sensitive auditory threshold of the bird could accommodate. It went mad. There is no other word for it. It dashed its poor head to pieces on the shield of a just-fallen soldier. Perhaps, in its confusion, it had identified the shield with the noise of the battle and sought to stop the sound by breaking its ears upon it. Or perhaps both the historians and the scientists are wrong. Perhaps we have all along paid too much attention to its winglessness and not enough to its voicelessness. Perhaps voicelessness is a choice — the choice of silence. Perhaps winglessness is one. Perhaps there are birds who reject the air and choose the earth. Perhaps even extinction is a choice of sorts.
“‘When Shobuta the Tender saw what had happened, his poor heart cracked. Suddenly he remembered those gentle days when he had been closeted with the bird in his apartments. Laying down his sword, he took the bird up in his arms. “Come,” he whispered, his voice broken, “once more I shall be your wings,” and he began to croon the bird’s favorite song. No longer conscious of where he was, he drifted through the field of death among the fallen bodies of his foes and followers. It was such a touching sight that Korogachi, seeing it, began himself to weep. Blinded by his tears, and following now only the sound of the emperor’s voice, he did not notice one of the emperor’s warriors creeping up behind him. It was Earaki, a deaf samurai who, since he had not heard the sound of battle, could not now hear that it had ceased. Seizing the opportunity of what he saw only as the momentary lapse of the leader of the enemy, he struck from behind and felled the shogun Korogachi for his emperor. Once again the bird had saved Japan.’
“It was a while before either Collins or I could speak.
“‘You’re here for the bird,’ I said.
“‘We are losing the war. Only a miracle—’ His voice trailed off.
“I nodded. His story had unsergeanted me, dissolved the chevrons from my arms. Silence is golden, I thought, and kept quiet, as grateful to the Japanese as I had been to the general. I looked from one to the other. Collins’s eyes shone. ‘He knows where it is,’ he said suddenly.
“‘Sir?’ I said. I knew enough to be fearful.
“‘He knows where it is. Don’t you see? They’ve already got it. Or maybe they haven’t, but they’re close. Anyway, it’s still on the island. That’s why he told us — so we can get word to the troops not to shoot. Can you think what it would mean if we could capture that bird?’ The Japanese smiled. ‘You see?’ Collins said, pointing at our prisoner and talking fast. ‘He wants us to try. They haven’t got it. They haven’t got it because he’s the expert; he knows its ways and its lairs. The bastard is challenging us to try. He’s teasing us to try. That’s what he was doing in the museum — studying it. Then he was going after it. but that’s when we showed up. Right? Am I right, you?’
“‘All correct,’ the scientist said. He was still smiling.
“‘All correct.’ Collins laughed. ‘You bet all correct. He couldn’t tell the British because there were too many of them, but there are only two of us. So he wants us to try. We bring him along so he can find it for us, then the Japs grab it back. That’s it — that’s what it’s all about.’
“‘But that would only make sense if there were a million Japs around to guarantee that he could get it back,’ I said.
“‘All correct, Sergeant,’ Collins said.
“‘Well, then,’ I said, ‘it’s a trap.’
“‘A beauty,’ Collins said. He turned to the Japanese. ‘We have a jeep. How long till we get to the area?’
“‘About nine hours,’ the scientist said. ‘I’m judging by the time it took the patrol to bring me here after I was captured.’
“Collins had risen and was moving toward the door, the Japanese right behind him. ‘But there’ll be all those Japs!’ I said.
“Collins turned to me. ‘They can’t shoot for fear they’ll madden the bird. We’ll stay out of their way. You’ll see. Even if they get the dodo first they can’t shoot because of the noise. He won’t let them. That’s our chance.’
“Collins got on the jeep radio and told the story to the British. He asked them to hold their fire, to give us twenty-four hours to try to find the dodo. He wanted Sansoni — that was the scientist’s name — to give him the position where we’d be so he could tell the British. The Jap refused. When Collins drew his gun the man just grinned. ‘It’s better, Lieutenant, that they don’t know,’ he said. ‘They’d be drawn to the area. Something could go wrong.’ Collins nodded, and put the gun back. I had been cast adrift among brave men. It is always the case with squires.
“Though I’m not a good driver, Collins made me drive the jeep and Sansoni gave directions. To avoid the British we stayed off the main roads, and after a while we even avoided the secondary roads and were cutting across plantations and through fields. We left Port Lewis in the afternoon, and it was already dark, about ten-thirty or eleven o’clock, before we saw our first Japanese. They were under orders not to shoot, of course, but they signaled us to stop. Collins drew his gun again and pointed it at Sansoni’s head. The soldiers recognized the scientist, and when he spoke to them calmly in Japanese they giggled. ‘I’ve explained the situation to them,’ he told us. ‘They’ll inform the others on the walkie-talkie — that is an interesting English orientalization, “walkie-talkie,” don’t you think — that we’re coming. We won’t be interfered with.’
“‘Excellent,’ Collins said.
“‘Bully,’ I said. ‘Why were they giggling?’
“‘Oh well,’ Sansoni said patiently, ‘they expect that you two stand to lose our little contest.’
“It was fantastic. Every few minutes now we passed great clusters of Japanese troops. When our headlights picked them up they would simply turn and smile and wave us on. Soon we were in a forest, squeezing the jeep between the trees. Here and there we could see soldiers crawling along on their hands and knees. Collins was very excited. ‘It’s true,’ he said hoarsely, ‘they haven’t found it yet.’ By now it was almost impossible to drive. The crawling soldiers took up so much of the space between the trees that there was no longer any clearance.
“I honked the horn to make them move. ‘Don’t do that again,’ Sansoni said fiercely. ‘We’re almost there. Do you want to madden it? Lieutenant, please do something about this man of yours.’
“‘He’s right, Sergeant. Calm down.’
“‘Further,’ Sansoni said, ‘just a little further.’ We drove another half-mile or so. ‘Now,’ Sansoni said.
“‘Lieutenant?’
“‘Do what he says. Sergeant. Stop here.’