James Clavell - Gai-Jin

He saw Tyrer blown to one side, helplessly trying to grope to his hands and knees, suffocating, surrounded by flames that in an instant turned the oil-sprayed shoji wall behind him into a sheet of fire. Other flames gorged on oil-drenched walls and supports and roof and licked at the remains of the futon and down coverlet Tyrer lay on. The hem of his ripped sleeping kimono caught fire. Hiraga jumped forward, stamped out the flame and pulled him up. One look at Fujiko was enough. The bomb had cut her in half. Already she was hairless and turning to cinder.

Half blinded by the smoke, Hiraga dragged Tyrer out onto the path. At that second the blazing roof collapsed sending them reeling away to fall in a heap, the resulting gusher of sparks and embers turned into a flamethrower by the wind, blowtorching other houses, fences, and the next Teahouse. Shouts and screams and fire warnings, already lines of people were dashing this way and that with water buckets or fetching buckets, most now wearing dampened face masks against smoke inhalation that were always ready in abundance.

Astonished to be still alive, coughing and gagging, Hiraga beat out a smoldering patch on the chest of his kimono, his short sword still in his belt, the long sword vanished. As far as he could tell Tyrer was unhurt but it was impossible to be sure for he was not truly conscious, chest heaving, gasping and vomiting from inhaling the smoke. Painfully Hiraga stood over him to collect his breath and his reason, looking around against new dangers. The nearby dwelling burst into flames, then the next, cutting their escape route.

Katsumata was right, he thought. With this wind the Yoshiwara's doomed. And, with it the Settlement.

On the edge of No Man's Land the patrol of soldiers stood shock still--with everyone else in Drunk Town who was sober--and stared over the fence toward the Yoshiwara. Two columns of flames and billowing smoke reached skywards amid distant shouts and bells brought closer by the wind.

Faintly a third explosion sounded. A third fountain of flames. Smoke began to surround them. A few embers swirled past.

"Christalmighty," the Sergeant said, moving out of the lee of the godown to see better, "was that a bomb?"

"Doan' know, Sarge, could be a barrel of oil exploding, but we'd better get back, that bleeder's heading our way an--"

The fire bomb that Takeda had planted against the far side of the godown detonated.

Instinctively they all ducked. More smoke, fire crackling, bellowing from nearby Drunk Towners and cries for water buckets and "Fire! Fire! Hurry for Christ's sake-- that's the lamp-oil depot!"

Half-naked men dashed in and out of adjoining houses to save their valuables. Down the street Mrs. Fortheringill's was emptying, inmates and customers raving and swearing, climbing into their clothes. More warning bells. Looting began.

And down at the South Gate, disciplined samurai streamed in, racing for the Yoshiwara with ladders and fire buckets, wet smoke masks over their faces. A few diverted to fight the godown fire, the remainder rushed onwards. Flames from the blazing godown roof, fanned by the wind, jumped the alley to attack the next line of hovels. They caught instantly.

From his hiding place in No Man's Land Takeda saw the soldiers in confusion and gloated with the success of the bombs, a large section of the Yoshiwara already ablaze. Time to make a run for it. Quickly he adjusted his face mask, the mask and the dirt and his soot-blackened, filthy kimono making him even more ominous.

In flickering alternations of night and light, he hurried for the well head, found the knapsack, stuck his arms through the straps and, as quickly as he dared, picked a precarious way through the dump.

Warning cries behind him. He thought he had been spotted but it was only about the building as one wall caved in with a roar, showering more sparks and fire on scattering people and on neighboring property. Now the abundance of flames allowed him to see better. Elated, he began to run.

Ahead was the village and safety.

"Hey you!"

He did not understand the words but the shout jerked him to a stop. In front was another group of British soldiers with an officer who had come running from the village area to probe the danger and had stopped, startled. They blocked his escape.

"Must be a looter! Or arsonist! Hey you!"

"My God, watch out, sir, it's a samurai an' he's armed!"

"Cover me, Sergeant! You! You there, samurai, what're you doing? What's that you're carrying?"

In panic Takeda saw the officer unbuttoning his holster, start towards him, soldiers unslinging their rifles and all the time the sound of the holocaust, flames chasing weird shadows. He whirled and ran. At once they gave chase.

On the other side of No Man's Land the godown blaze was totally out of control, soldiers impotently striving to organize a fire-fighting party to protect abutting dwellings and streets.

The fire gave enough light to help Takeda dart through the dump, avoiding most obstacles, the knapsack banging against his back. His breath was coming in gulps. With a sudden gush of hope he saw safety in the empty alley beside the burning building ahead. He raced for it, easily outstripping the soldiers behind him.

"Stop or I shoot!" The words were meaningless to him but not the hostility. Onwards in his headlong dash, no need for evading action now, any moment safe. He had forgotten the light that helped him aided them, etching him clearly against the flames.

"Stop him, Sergeant! Wound him, don't kill him!"

"Right, sir... Wait, God Almighty, it's, isn't he the bugger Sir William's after, Nakama, that bloody assassin!"

"Damn my eyes you're right, that's him. Quick, Sergeant, cut him down, wound him!"

The Sergeant aimed. His target was escaping down the alley. He squeezed the trigger.

"Got him," he shouted gleefully and charged.

"Come on, lads!"

The bullet sent Takeda sprawling. It had smashed through the knapsack into his upper back, piercing a lung, to come out from his chest cleanly, not a fatal wound if a man was lucky. But Takeda knew none of that, only that he felt destroyed and he lay in the dirt howling with shock but without pain, one arm useless and dangling, the roar of the nearby fire drowning his cries. Terror dragged him to his knees, the heat from approaching fire ghastly, safety only a few paces ahead down the alley. He crawled forward. Then through his tears he heard the shouts of soldiers close behind him. No escape!

His reflexes took command. Using his good hand as a prop, he was driven to his feet andwitha mighty shriek, he hurled himself into the flames. The leading young soldier skidded to a stop, scrambled back to safety, hands held up against the inferno, the structure due to fall any moment.

"Sod it!" the soldier said, and glared at the flames that sizzled, consuming his prey, the stench of burning flesh making him gag. "Another second an' I'da had the bugger, sir, it were him all right, the bugger wot Sir William..."

That was the last thing the youth ever said.

Katsumata's bombs in the knapsack detonated violently, a piece of metal tore out the soldier's throat, strewing the officer and other men like ninepins, breaking a few limbs.

As if in echo, an oil drum exploded as violently, then another and another with cataclysmic effect. Plumes of flames and embers shot into the air to be seized and used ruthlessly by the gathering force of the wind, now self-generating in ferocity because of its heat.

The first of the village houses began to burn.

The shoya, his family and all villagers, already masked against smoke and prepared within moments of the first alarm, continued to work with well-rehearsed but stoic speed to pack away valuables into the small, fireproofed brick shelters that were in every garden.