The Japanese had suffered fearfully by the first combat beyond and on the walls. “There was none but had been shot at by five or ten or fifteen arrows.” One of their captains reckoned their loss at eighteen thousand three hundred and sixty men, which left them but a garrison of five thousand fighting men. A large number of non-combatants, including many of the friendly people of the neighborhood, had crowded into the fortifications, and had to be fed. Food growing scarcer, and danger increasing, Asano sent word to Kato for help. On a fleet horse the messenger arrived, after a ride of two days. Kato had, in Japan, taken oath to Asano’s father to help him in every strait. Immediately, with seventy picked companions, he put out to sea in seven boats, and, after hard rowing, succeeded in entering the castle. On January 31, 1598, the war-conch sounded in the Ming camp, as the signal of attack, and the ears of the besieged were soon deafened by the yells of the “eighty thousand” besiegers. The Japanese were at first terrified at the clouds of dust, through which the awful sight of ranks of men, twenty deep, were on all sides visible. The enemy, armed with shields shaped like a fowl’s wings, upon which they received the missiles of the garrison, charged on the outer works, but when into and on the slope of the ditch, flung their shields away, and plied axe, knife, sword, and lance. Though seven attacks were repulsed, the wall was breached, the outer works were gained by overwhelming numbers, and the garrison was driven into the inner enclosure. Night fell upon the work of blood, but at early morn, the enemy waked the garrison with showers of arrows, and with ladders and hurdles of bamboo, tried to scale the walls. In four hours, seven attacks in force had been repulsed, yet the fighting went on. In spite of the intense cold, the soldiers perspired so that the sweat froze on their armor. Over their own heaps of corpses the Chinese attempted to force one of the gates, while, from the walls of the inner citadel, and from the higher gate above them, the Japanese smote them. The next day the carnage ceased from the third to the ninth hour. On February 3d, the Chinese, with their ladders, were again repulsed. At night their sentinels “gathered hoar-frost on their helmets,” while guarding the night long against the sortie, which they feared. Another attack from the clouds of enemies kept up the work of killing. Some of the Japanese warriors now noticed that their stockings and greave-bands kept slipping down, though adjusted repeatedly. The fact was their flesh had shrunk until their bones were nearly visible, and “their legs were as lean as bamboo sticks.” Another warrior, taking off his helmet and vizor, was seen to have a face so thin and wizen that he reminded his comrades of one of those hungry demons of the nether world, which they had seen so often depicted in temple pictures at home.