A dart whirred past me, to drive through the mid-body of the executioner as he bent to thrust his lance. In the same instant Yuki flung off his pilgrim robe and leaped at Keiki with outflashing sword, his burnished armor glittering in the sun-glare.

Sudden as was the attack, Keiki flung himself away from the stroke with such quickness that the blade barely cut through the mail on his side. Wrenched about by the powerful bit, his stallion reared above Yuki. Instantly the swordmaster struck a slashing upward blow that half severed the beast’s neck at the base.

I saw the stallion rolling over upon his rider—a score of Mito warriors were leaping to drive back Yuki—I saw Azai darting towards me. All about me was a wild swirl of shrieking, fleeing commonfolk, of Mito men yelling and slashing in blind fury, and crestless warriors, still half disguised, who had already cut down their own number of Mito men. I sprang to meet Azai. The eta with the hook grappled my robe and dragged me to the ground. Azai sprang past me. I twisted about and saw her strike at the stooping eta. The pariah fell inert, pierced through the nape of his neck. A mob of yelling, slashing warriors surged about us. Azai flung herself upon me to shield me with her tender body. A Mito man fell heavily across us, the blood gushing from a great wound in his breast. I heard the triumphant shout of Yuki. The wave of fighting men surged back.

My bonds parted under Azai’s dirk edge. She sprang up and tugged with her girlish strength to help me to my feet. From the bosom of her robe she plucked out my revolvers, first one and then the other. As I caught them from her, I glanced around at the wild mÊlÉe. A group of Mito men were dragging their lord from under his horse. The mass were closing in upon my rescuers, who had rallied with Yuki to drive them back from me. All told, his followers numbered less than fifty. Though picked men, they were falling fast before the overwhelming numbers of the Mito men. The pikemen in the rear ranks thrust at them over the shoulders of the Mito swordsmen.

“My lord! to the shore—the boat!” cried Azai.

“First free Kohana!” I commanded.

With unquestioning obedience, she ran with me to the cross and slashed at the bonds of the geisha. A Mito man charged upon me from the side. I shot him through the centre of his demonic face mask. Kohana fell free from the cross. Our defenders were giving back.

“To the boat!—to the boat!” I shouted.

“To the boat!” yelled Keiki.

I thrust Azai and Kohana before me, to rush past the kettle gibbet. Our defenders came backing after us, now rallying, now retreating. Keiki’s voice called from the midst of the Mito men, and half a hundred came charging around to flank and head us off. I began to fire. But the Mito men were not to be stopped by my balls. They rushed in upon us. I drew Azai back. Kohana was too quick for me. She sprang aside to the gibbet. An oil dipper was lying upon the ground. She caught it up and dipped into the boiling oil. With a skilful sweep she dashed the seething fluid into the faces of the foremost warriors. Shrieking in agony, they turned to fly. Again the girl dipped and flung, and again, in quick succession. The Mito leaders plunged back amongst those behind, in wild panic.

Another ladle lay beside the kettle. I caught it up and helped fling out the oil at those who would have boiled me in it. The Mito men of the flanking party turned and rushed back among those who were engaged in furious struggle with our defenders, throwing them into momentary confusion. The moment was not lost by Yuki. At his shout, our men closed about us. The ladles were taken from Kohana and me, and we were swept forward with Azai. The Mito men, charging after us, were again thrown into confusion by ladlefuls of seething oil. They spread out on either side to close around us. But we had gained a slight start.

A few yards offshore I saw waiting the large scullboat. Naked rowers stood ready at their long sweeps. The shoreward gunwale was lined with women, dressed in black robes and stiff black hats and armed with halberds.

The Mito men closed in again upon our rear and flanks, and sought desperately to push forward and head us. Our men fought them off with still greater desperation. The shore was not far. Five and twenty men were left when we gained the beach and splashed down into the water. Yuki, though severely wounded, yet fought best of all, spurring his fellows to superhuman efforts with his cries.

Down the beach with us plunged the Mito men, goaded on by the furious commands of their lord. I caught a glimpse of his bright-armored figure upborne between two of his retainers. But my pistol ball glanced on the shoulder-piece of a warrior who leaped before him down the bank. Azai slipped upon the slimy clay bottom. I caught her up and plunged forward, dragging Kohana by the arm.

On either side of us Mito warriors and our own men fell maimed into the muddied water, to flounder and drown. A dozen of the enemy dashed ahead to board the boat. The samurai women, led by O Setsu San, screamed defiance and struck at the mailed warriors with skilful blows of their halberds. Only two of the enemy gained the side of the boat. Both were overtaken and cut down by the foremost of our party.

Almost outspent, we floundered forward through the knee-deep water to the boat. O Setsu San and her samurai women beat off the Mito men with their halberds while we clambered aboard. I swung Azai and then Kohana over the gunwale, and vaulted in after them. A few of our men were in before me. Such of the others as had not fallen came staggering alongside, all wounded. The stronger ones paused to meet the furious attempt of the Mito men to overwhelm them and capture the boat.

The women whirled their halberds, the naked oarsmen beat at the Mito men with their sweeps. I fired every cartridge that remained in my revolvers, and shouted for all to climb aboard. Those already in the boat stood with brandished swords. Those in the water turned to clamber over the gunwale. The Mito men rushed after. The women redoubled their blows. Yuki still stood with his face to the enemy, and shouted to the oarsmen to back offshore. The brave man meant to stand where he was and guard our retreat until cut down. I reached over and dragged him alongside.

The boat had begun to back water under the powerful strokes of the scullers. Finding that I would not release him, Yuki turned and leaped aboard. I caught up the sword of a man who lay dying, and thrust out at the Mito men as they grasped at the boat’s bows. Yuki and such of his men as could still fight beat at the enemy, slashing through the mailed arms that sought to hold the boat. But the brave women did far more with their halberds.

With a cry of triumph, we beat off the last Mito man and swept clear. I glanced about and saw Azai fling down a halberd to kneel beside one of the wounded men. O Setsu and Kohana and all the other women dropped their halberds to follow the example of their mistress.

Yuki sheathed his hacked sword and sank down before me, the blood oozing through his riven armor.

“My lord,” he murmured, “Owari could not strike, but ronins could. Your august father gave me the best swordsmen of the clan. It is for my lord to win his way over the sea to Kagoshima. Satsuma-no-kami pledges shelter to my lord and his wife, the Shogun’s daughter. Farewell, my lord! I go now.”

He sank prostrate at my feet. At my cry, Azai darted to me, and after her O Setsu. Other women aided them to strip off the broken armor. They would save him if he might be saved.

I sprang up to order the boat brought about. The Mito men had floundered after us till the water came to their armpits. They could come no farther. No man could swim in armor such as weighted them down. At my command the scullers brought the boat around, bows on, and headed her for the nearest junk. She drove forward, out across the dancing whitecaps, at racing speed.

Aboard the junk the crew was shortening cable, ready to weigh anchor and set sail. One of the wounded men called to me and pointed to the shore. Mito warriors, stripped of their armor, were running swiftly towards Yedo. Others waved banners and garments, in frantic efforts to signal the many passing junks and boats. A fishing smack sheered out of its course to intercept us, but bore off again at sight of our bared blades.

We raced on, the long sculls bowing under the powerful strokes of the rowers. These men, too, were Owari retainers. They stood in their places and thrust at the handles of their sweeps with their broad chests, rejoiced to serve him who had been the chief of the clan.

The poop of the junk reared high before us. The hope in my heart rose to a certainty. There was no gaping hole in the stern of the clumsy craft. She was one of the junks that the Shogunate had sought to convert into a warship. I remembered that my clan had offered to equip and man part of the fleet.

We shot alongside. Lines were flung to us and made fast. The rowers helped us lift the disabled warriors up over the low bulwarks amidships, while the junk’s crew weighed anchor and hoisted their great square sail. Two men had died of their wounds. But Yuki still breathed. He was lifted aboard and carried into the cabin, followed by Azai and O Setsu and Kohana.

As the ship came about, the crew shouted and pointed up the bay. A squadron of war-junks and guard-boats were bearing down upon us. The women were all aboard. I scrambled after with the rowers. Stones were flung down into the boat to scuttle her, and she was cast adrift with the two dead men.

With the monsoon blowing fresh on her port quarter, the junk was already beginning to run down the bay at a rate that surprised me. The bronzed skipper came pattering down from beside his huge tiller to kowtow to his august lord. I ordered him to rise and come aft with me up on the high poop.

The pursuing squadron had ceased to gain on us as at the first. Most of the craft were falling astern, but one at least was still creeping up on us. The skipper admitted that she was slightly the better sailer on the wind, and that she carried a number of bronze pieces. His own cannon had not yet been shipped.

A few inquiries brought me the information that he had aboard spare sailcloth and spars. Within the minute I had his crew rigging jibs and staysails. There was no time to cut and sew canvas. The sheets were knotted and rigged in a manner to shame a marine. Yet even the first jib that was set drew enough to offset the difference in the speed of our foremost pursuer.

After jibs followed staysails, and last of all, studding-sails. The junk heeled over under the freshening wind and drove down the bay at a speed that astonished the incoming craft. Finding themselves fast falling astern, our pursuers opened fire with their feeble carronades. We cheered, and hauled to our peak the first national flag authorized by the Shogunate,—a red ball on a white field.

The many craft which we met or passed mistook the firing of our pursuers for salutes and cheered us as we drove by in our swift flight. Within two hours we were flying past the outjutting point on the east coast which had given Yoritomo and me so much concern that wild night in June.

We stood boldly on down past the cape above Uraga. In the narrower waters of the bay between us and Cape Sagami, government guard-boats sculled to and fro in vigilant patrol. We drove on past Uraga without putting in, as the regulations required. Guard-boat signalled to guard-boat. They sculled swiftly athwart our course, signalling for us to lay to. Some we slipped past; others backed water to escape being run down, firing at us with their ineffective swivels. Two managed to strike in alongside. But we cut loose their grappling-hooks before their crews could board us.

By mid-afternoon we cleared the last of the guard-boats off Cape Sagami. Before us opened the broad gulf of the outer bay, beyond which rolled the illimitable expanse of the Pacific,—the broad lap of Freedom! We had won our way out of the clutches of Mito.

I set our course between the smoking mass of Vries Island and the distant coast of Idzu and ordered the studding-sails struck. We had now only to coast down Hondo and Shikoku and Kyushu to Cape Satanomi before the steady drive of the northeast monsoon,—a rough voyage against the Japan Current in any craft, yet one fairly safe at this season even for our unwieldy junk. The typhoon season was past.

I went down into the cabin, where mats had been laid and silk drapes hung for the son of Owari. There, alone in the largest room, I found the Shogun’s daughter, waiting to salute and serve her lord. She kowtowed before me, her forehead upon her tiny hands. I bent and caught her up in my arms, and pressed my lips upon her little mouth, after the manner of the tojins.