IN Merlin's Cave -- Clarence and
I and fifty-two fresh, bright,
well-educated, clean-minded
young
British boys. At dawn I sent an order to the factories
and to all our great works to stop operations and remove all life to a safe distance,
as everything was going to
be blown up by secret mines, "AND
NO TELLING AT WHAT MOMENT
-- THEREFORE, VACATE AT ONCE." These
people knew me, and had confidence
in my word. They would clear
out without waiting to part
their hair, and I could take
my own time about dating
the explosion. You couldn't
hire one of them to go back
during the century, if the
explosion was still impending.
We had a week
of waiting. It was not dull
for me, because
I was writing all the time. During
the first three days, I finished
turning my old diary into this
narrative form; it only required
a chapter or so to bring it down
to date. The rest of the week
I took up in writing letters
to my wife. It was always my
habit to write to Sandy every
day, whenever we were separate,
and now I kept up the habit for
love of it, and of her, though
I couldn't do anything with the
letters, of course, after I had
written them. But it put in the
time, you see, and was almost
like talking; it was almost as
if I was saying, "Sandy, if you
and Hello-Central were here in
the cave, instead of only your
photographs, what good times
we could have!" And then, you
know, I could imagine the baby
googooing something out in reply,
with its fists in its mouth and
itself stretched across its mother's
lap on its back, and she a-laughing
and admiring and worshiping,
and now and then tickling under
the baby's chin to set it cackling,
and then maybe throwing in a
word of answer to me herself
-- and so on and so on -- well,
don't you know, I could sit there
in the cave with my pen, and
keep it up, that way, by the
hour with them. Why, it was almost
like having us all together again.
I had spies out every night,
of course, to get news. Every
report made things look more
and more impressive. The hosts
were gathering, gathering; down
all the roads and paths of England
the knights were riding, and
priests rode with them, to hearten
these original Crusaders, this
being the Church's war. All the
nobilities, big and little, were
on their way, and all the gentry.
This was all as was expected.
We should thin out this sort
of folk to such a degree that
the people would have nothing
to do but just step to the front
with their republic and --
Ah, what a
donkey I was! Toward the end
of the week I began to
get this large and disenchanting
fact through my head: that the
mass of the nation had swung
their caps and shouted for the
republic for about one day, and
there an end! The Church, the
nobles, and the gentry then turned
one grand, alldisapproving frown
upon them and shriveled them
into sheep! From that moment
the sheep had begun to gather
to the fold -- that is to say,
the camps -- and offer their
valueless lives and their valuable
wool to the "righteous cause." Why,
even the very men who had lately
been slaves were in the "righteous
cause," and glorifying it, praying
for it, sentimentally slabbering
over it, just like all the other
commoners. Imagine such human
muck as this; conceive of this
folly!
Yes, it was
now "Death to the
Republic!" everywhere -- not
a dissenting voice. All England
was marching against us! Truly,
this was more than I had bargained
for.
I watched my fifty-two boys
narrowly; watched their faces,
their walk, their unconscious
attitudes: for all these are
a language -- a language given
us purposely that it may betray
us in times of emergency, when
we have secrets which we want
to keep. I knew that that thought
would keep saying itself over
and over again in their minds
and hearts, ALL ENGLAND IS MARCHING
AGAINST US! and ever more strenuously
imploring attention with each
repetition, ever more sharply
realizing itself to their imaginations,
until even in their sleep they
would find no rest from it, but
hear the vague and flitting creatures
of the dreams say, ALL ENG- LAND
-- ALL ENGLAND! -- IS MARCHING
AGAINST YOU! I knew all this
would happen; I knew that ultimately
the pressure would become so
great that it would compel utterance;
therefore, I must be ready with
an answer at that time -- an
answer well chosen and tranquilizing.
I was right. The time came.
They HAD to speak. Poor lads,
it was pitiful to see, they were
so pale, so worn, so troubled.
At first their spokesman could
hardly find voice or words; but
he presently got both. This is
what he said -- and he put it
in the neat modern English taught
him in my schools:
"We have tried
to forget what we are -- English
boys! We have
tried to put reason before sentiment,
duty before love; our minds approve,
but our hearts reproach us. While
apparently it was only the nobility,
only the gentry, only the twenty-five
or thirty thousand knights left
alive out of the late wars, we
were of one mind, and undisturbed
by any troubling doubt; each
and every one of these fifty-two
lads who stand here before you,
said, 'They have chosen -- it
is their affair.' But think!
-- the matter is altered -- ALL
ENG- LAND IS MARCHING AGAINST
US! Oh, sir, consider! -- reflect!
-- these people are our people,
they are bone of our bone, flesh
of our flesh, we love them --
do not ask us to destroy our
nation!"
Well, it shows the value of
looking ahead, and being ready
for a thing when it happens.
If I hadn't foreseen this thing
and been fixed, that boy would
have had me! -- I couldn't have
said a word. But I was fixed.
I said:
"My boys, your
hearts are in the right place,
you have thought
the worthy thought, you have
done the worthy thing. You are
English boys, you will remain
English boys, and you will keep
that name unsmirched. Give yourselves
no further concern, let your
minds be at peace. Consider this:
while all England is marching
against us, who is in the van?
Who, by the commonest rules of
war, will march in the front?
Answer me."
"The mounted
host of mailed knights."
"True. They
are 30,000 strong. Acres deep
they will march. Now,
observe: none but THEY will ever
strike the sand-belt! Then there
will be an episode! Immediately
after, the civilian multitude
in the rear will retire, to meet
business engagements elsewhere.
None but nobles and gentry are
knights, and NONE BUT THESE will
remain to dance to our music
after that episode. It is absolutely
true that we shall have to fight
nobody but these thirty thousand
knights. Now speak, and it shall
be as you decide. Shall we avoid
the battle, retire from the field?"
"NO!!!"
The shout was unanimous and
hearty.
"Are you --
are you -- well, afraid of
these thirty thousand
knights?"
That joke brought out a good
laugh, the boys' troubles vanished
away, and they went gaily to
their posts. Ah, they were a
darling fifty-two! As pretty
as girls, too.
I was ready for the enemy now.
Let the approaching big day come
along -- it would find us on
deck.
The big day arrived on time.
At dawn the sentry on watch in
the corral came into the cave
and reported a moving black mass
under the horizon, and a faint
sound which he thought to be
military music. Breakfast was
just ready; we sat down and ate
it.
This over, I made the boys
a little speech, and then sent
out a detail to man the battery,
with Clarence in command of it.
The sun rose presently and
sent its unobstructed splendors
over the land, and we saw a prodigious
host moving slowly toward us,
with the steady drift and aligned
front of a wave of the sea. Nearer
and nearer it came, and more
and more sublimely imposing became
its aspect; yes, all England
was there, apparently. Soon we
could see the innumerable banners
fluttering, and then the sun
struck the sea of armor and set
it all aflash. Yes, it was a
fine sight; I hadn't ever seen
anything to beat it.
At last we could make out details.
All the front ranks, no telling
how many acres deep, were horsemen
-- plumed knights in armor. Suddenly
we heard the blare of trumpets;
the slow walk burst into a gallop,
and then -- well, it was wonderful
to see! Down swept that vast
horse-shoe wave -- it approached
the sand-belt -- my breath stood
still; nearer, nearer -- the
strip of green turf beyond the
yellow belt grew narrow -- narrower
still -- became a mere ribbon
in front of the horses -- then
disappeared under their hoofs.
Great Scott! Why, the whole front
of that host shot into the sky
with a thunder-crash, and became
a whirling tempest of rags and
fragments; and along the ground
lay a thick wall of smoke that
hid what was left of the multitude
from our sight.
Time for the second step in
the plan of campaign! I touched
a button, and shook the bones
of England loose from her spine!
In that explosion all our noble
civilization-factories went up
in the air and disappeared from
the earth. It was a pity, but
it was necessary. We could not
afford to let the enemy turn
our own weapons against us.
Now ensued one of the dullest
quarter-hours I had ever endured.
We waited in a silent solitude
enclosed by our circles of wire,
and by a circle of heavy smoke
outside of these. We couldn't
see over the wall of smoke, and
we couldn't see through it. But
at last it began to shred away
lazily, and by the end of another
quarter-hour the land was clear
and our curiosity was enabled
to satisfy itself. No living
creature was in sight! We now
perceived that additions had
been made to our defenses. The
dynamite had dug a ditch more
than a hundred feet wide, all
around us, and cast up an embankment
some twenty-five feet high on
both borders of it. As to destruction
of life, it was amazing. Moreover,
it was beyond estimate. Of course,
we could not COUNT the dead,
because they did not exist as
individuals, but merely as homogeneous
protoplasm, with alloys of iron
and buttons.
No life was in sight, but necessarily
there must have been some wounded
in the rear ranks, who were carried
off the field under cover of
the wall of smoke; there would
be sickness among the others
-- there always is, after an
episode like that. But there
would be no reinforcements; this
was the last stand of the chivalry
of England; it was all that was
left of the order, after the
recent annihilating wars. So
I felt quite safe in believing
that the utmost force that could
for the future be brought against
us would be but small; that is,
of knights. I therefore issued
a congratulatory proclamation
to my army in these words:
SOLDIERS, CHAMPIONS OF HUMAN
LIBERTY AND EQUALITY: Your General
congratulates you! In the pride
of his strength and the vanity
of his renown, an arrogant enemy
came against you. You were ready.
The conflict was brief; on your
side, glorious. This mighty victory,
having been achieved utterly
without loss, stands without
example in history. So long as
the planets shall continue to
move in their orbits, the BATTLE
OF THE SAND-BELT will not perish
out of the memories of men.
THE BOSS.
I read it well, and the applause
I got was very gratifying to
me. I then wound up with these
remarks:
"The war with the English nation,
as a nation, is at an end. The
nation has retired from the field
and the war. Before it can be
persuaded to return, war will
have ceased. This campaign is
the only one that is going to
be fought. It will be brief --
the briefest in history. Also
the most destructive to life,
considered from the standpoint
of proportion of casualties to
numbers engaged. We are done
with the nation; henceforth we
deal only with the knights. English
knights can be killed, but they
cannot be conquered. We know
what is before us. While one
of these men remains alive, our
task is not finished, the war
is not ended. We will kill them
all." [Loud and long continued
applause.]
I picketed the great embankments
thrown up around our lines by
the dynamite explosion -- merely
a lookout of a couple of boys
to announce the enemy when he
should appear again.
Next, I sent an engineer and
forty men to a point just beyond
our lines on the south, to turn
a mountain brook that was there,
and bring it within our lines
and under our command, arranging
it in such a way that I could
make instant use of it in an
emergency. The forty men were
divided into two shifts of twenty
each, and were to relieve each
other every two hours. In ten
hours the work was accomplished.
It was nightfall now, and I
withdrew my pickets. The one
who had had the northern outlook
reported a camp in sight, but
visible with the glass only.
He also reported that a few knights
had been feeling their way toward
us, and had driven some cattle
across our lines, but that the
knights themselves had not come
very near. That was what I had
been expecting. They were feeling
us, you see; they wanted to know
if we were going to play that
red terror on them again. They
would grow bolder in the night,
perhaps. I believed I knew what
project they would attempt, because
it was plainly the thing I would
attempt myself if I were in their
places and as ignorant as they
were. I mentioned it to Clarence.
"I think you are right," said
he; "it is the obvious thing
for them to try."
"Well, then," I said, "if
they do it they are doomed.
"Certainly."
They won't
have the slightest show in
the world."
"Of course
they won't."
"It's dreadful,
Clarence. It seems an awful
pity."
The thing disturbed me so that
I couldn't get any peace of mind.for
thinking of it and worrying over
it. So, at last, to quiet my
conscience, I framed this message
to the knights:
TO THE HONORABLE THE COMMANDER
OF THE INSURGENT CHIVALRY OF
ENGLAND: YOU fight in vain. We
know your strength -- if one
may call it by that name. We
know that at the utmost you cannot
bring against us above five and
twenty thousand knights. Therefore,
you have no chance -- none whatever.
Reflect: we are well equipped,
well fortified, we number 54.
Fifty-four what? Men? No, MINDS
-- the capablest in the world;
a force against which mere animal
might may no more hope to prevail
than may the idle waves of the
sea hope to prevail against the
granite barriers of England.
Be advised. We offer you your
lives; for the sake of your families,
do not reject the gift. We offer
you this chance, and it is the
last: throw down your arms; surrender
unconditionally to the Republic,
and all will be forgiven.
(Signed) THE BOSS.
I read it to Clarence, and
said I proposed to send it by
a flag of truce. He laughed the
sarcastic laugh he was born with,
and said:
"Somehow it
seems impossible for you to
ever fully realize
what these nobilities are. Now
let us save a little time and
trouble. Consider me the commander
of the knights yonder. Now, then,
you are the flag of truce; approach
and deliver me your message,
and I will give you your answer."
I humored the idea. I came
forward under an imaginary guard
of the enemy's soldiers, produced
my paper, and read it through.
For answer, Clarence struck the
paper out of my hand, pursed
up a scornful lip and said with
lofty disdain:
"Dismember
me this animal, and return
him in a basket to
the base-born knave who sent
him; other answer have I none!"
How empty is theory in presence
of fact! And this was just fact,
and nothing else. It was the
thing that would have happened,
there was no getting around that.
I tore up the paper and granted
my mistimed sentimentalities
a permanent rest.
Then, to business. I tested
the electric signals from the
gatling platform to the cave,
and made sure that they were
all right; I tested and retested
those which commanded the fences
-- these were signals whereby
I could break and renew the electric
current in each fence independently
of the others at will. I placed
the brook-connection under the
guard and authority of three
of my best boys, who would alternate
in two-hour watches all night
and promptly obey my signal,
if I should have occasion to
give it -- three revolvershots
in quick succession. Sentry-duty
was discarded for the night,
and the corral left empty of
life; I ordered that quiet be
maintained in the cave, and the
electric lights turned down to
a glimmer.
As soon as it was good and
dark, I shut off the current
from all the fences, and then
groped my way out to the embankment
bordering our side of the great
dynamite ditch. I crept to the
top of it and lay there on the
slant of the muck to watch. But
it was too dark to see anything.
As for sounds, there were none.
The stillness was deathlike.
True, there were the usual night-sounds
of the country -- the whir of
nightbirds, the buzzing of insects,
the barking of distant dogs,
the mellow lowing of far-off
kine -- but these didn't seem
to break the stillness, they
only intensified it, and added
a grewsome melancholy to it into
the bargain.
I presently
gave up looking, the night
shut down so black,
but I kept my ears strained to
catch the least suspicious sound,
for I judged I had only to wait,
and I shouldn't be disappointed.
However, I had to wait a long
time. At last I caught what you
may call in distinct glimpses
of sound�dulled metallic sound.
I pricked up my ears, then, and
held my breath, for this was
the sort of thing I had been
waiting for. This sound thickened,
and approached -- from toward
the north. Presently, I heard
it at my own level -- the ridge-top
of the opposite embankment, a
hundred feet or more away. Then
I seemed to see a row of black
dots appear along that ridge
-- human heads? I couldn't tell;
it mightn't be anything at all;
you can't depend on your eyes
when your imagination is out
of focus. However, the question
was soon settled. I heard that
metallic noise descending into
the great ditch. It augmented
fast, it spread all along, and
it unmistakably furnished me
this fact: an armed host was
taking up its quarters in the
ditch. Yes, these people were
arranging a little surprise party
for us. We could expect entertainment
about dawn, possibly earlier.
I groped my way back to the
corral now; I had seen enough.
I went to the platform and signaled
to turn the current on to the
two inner fences. Then I went
into the cave, and found everything
satisfactory there -- nobody
awake but the working-watch.
I woke Clarence and told him
the great ditch was filling up
with men, and that I believed
all the knights were coming for
us in a body. It was my notion
that as soon as dawn approached
we could expect the ditch's ambuscaded
thousands to swarm up over the
embankment and make an assault,
and be followed immediately by
the rest of their army.
Clarence said:
"They will
be wanting to send a scout
or two in the dark to
make preliminary observations.
Why not take the lightning off
the outer fences, and give them
a chance?"
"I've already
done it, Clarence. Did you
ever know me to be inhospitable?"
"No, you are
a good heart. I want to go
and --"
"Be a reception
committee? I will go, too."
We crossed the corral and lay
down together between the two
inside fences. Even the dim light
of the cave had disordered our
eyesight somewhat, but the focus
straightway began to regulate
itself and soon it was adjusted
for present circumstances. We
had had to feel our way before,
but we could make out to see
the fence posts now. We started
a whispered conversation, but
suddenly Clarence broke off and
said:
"What is that?"
"What is what?"
"That thing
yonder."
"What thing
-- where?"
"There beyond
you a little piece -- dark
something -- a
dull shape of some kind -- against
the second fence."
I gazed and he gazed. I said:
"Could it be
a man, Clarence?"
"No, I think
not. If you notice, it looks
a lit -- why, it IS
a man! -- leaning on the fence."
"I certainly
believe it is; let us go and
see."
We crept along on our hands
and knees until we were pretty
close, and then looked up. Yes,
it was a man -- a dim great figure
in armor, standing erect, with
both hands on the upper wire
-- and, of course, there was
a smell of burning flesh. Poor
fellow, dead as a door-nail,
and never knew what hurt him.
He stood there like a statue
-- no motion about him, except
that his plumes swished about
a little in the night wind. We
rose up and looked in through
the bars of his visor, but couldn't
make out whether we knew him
or not -- features too dim and
shadowed.
We heard muffled
sounds approaching, and we
sank down to the ground
where we were. We made out another
knight vaguely; he was coming
very stealthily, and feeling
his way. He was near enough now
for us to see him put out a hand,
find an upper wire, then bend
and step under it and over the
lower one. Now he arrived at
the first knight -- and started
slightly when he discovered him.
He stood a moment -- no doubt
wondering why the other one didn't
move on; then he said, in a low
voice, "Why dreamest thou here,
good Sir Mar --" then he laid
his hand on the corpse's shoulder
-- and just uttered a little
soft moan and sunk down dead.
Killed by a dead man, you see
-- killed by a dead friend, in
fact. There was something awful
about it.
These early birds came scattering
along after each other, about
one every five minutes in our
vicinity, during half an hour.
They brought no armor of offense
but their swords; as a rule,
they carried the sword ready
in the hand, and put it forward
and found the wires with it.
We would now and then see a blue
spark when the knight that caused
it was so far away as to be invisible
to us; but we knew what had happened,
all the same; poor fellow, he
had touched a charged wire with
his sword and been elected. We
had brief intervals of grim stillness,
interrupted with piteous regularity
by the clash made by the falling
of an iron-clad; and this sort
of thing was going on, right
along, and was very creepy there
in the dark and lonesomeness.
We concluded to make a tour
between the inner fences. We
elected to walk upright, for
convenience's sake; we argued
that if discerned, we should
be taken for friends rather than
enemies, and in any case we should
be out of reach of swords, and
these gentry did not seem to
have any spears along. Well,
it was a curious trip. Everywhere
dead men were lying outside the
second fence -- not plainly visible,
but still visible; and we counted
fifteen of those pathetic statues
-- dead knights standing with
their hands on the upper wire.
One thing seemed to be sufficiently
demonstrated: our current was
so tremendous that it killed
before the victim could cry out.
Pretty soon we detected a muffled
and heavy sound, and next moment
we guessed what it was. It was
a surprise in force coming! whispered
Clarence to go and wake the army,
and notify it to wait in silence
in the cave for further orders.
He was soon back, and we stood
by the inner fence and watched
the silent lightning do its awful
work upon that swarming host.
One could make out but little
of detail; but he could note
that a black mass was piling
itself up beyond the second fence.
That swelling bulk was dead men!
Our camp was enclosed with a
solid wall of the dead -- a bulwark,
a breastwork, of corpses, you
may say. One terrible thing about
this thing was the absence of
human voices; there were no cheers,
no war cries; being intent upon
a surprise, these men moved as
noiselessly as they could; and
always when the front rank was
near enough to their goal to
make it proper for them to begin
to get a shout ready, of course
they struck the fatal line and
went down without testifying.
I sent a current through the
third fence now; and almost immediately
through the fourth and fifth,
so quickly were the gaps filled
up. I believed the time was come
now for my climax; I believed
that that whole army was in our
trap. Anyway, it was high time
to find out. So I touched a button
and set fifty electric suns aflame
on the top of our precipice.
Land, what a sight! We were
enclosed in three walls of dead
men! All the other fences were
pretty nearly filled with the
living, who were stealthily working
their way forward through the
wires. The sudden glare paralyzed
this host, petrified them, you
may say, with astonishment; there
was just one instant for me to
utilize their immobility in,
and I didn't lose the chance.
You see, in another instant they
would have recovered their faculties,
then they'd have burst into a
cheer and made a rush, and my
wires would have gone down before
it; but that lost instant lost
them their opportunity forever;
while even that slight fragment
of time was still unspent, I
shot the current through all
the fences and struck the whole
host dead in their tracks! THERE
was a groan you could HEAR! It
voiced the death-pang of eleven
thousand men. It swelled out
on the night with awful pathos.
A glance showed that the rest
of the enemy -- perhaps ten thousand
strong -- were between us and
the encircling ditch, and pressing
forward to the assault. Consequently
we had them ALL! and had them
past help. Time for the last
act of the tragedy. I fired the
three appointed revolver shots
-- which meant:
"Turn on the
water!"
There was a sudden rush and
roar, and in a minute the mountain
brook was raging through the
big ditch and creating a river
a hundred feet wide and twentyfive
deep.
"Stand to your
guns, men! Open fire!"
The thirteen gatlings began
to vomit death into the fated
ten thousand. They halted, they
stood their ground a moment against
that withering deluge of fire,
then they broke, faced about
and swept toward the ditch like
chaff before a gale. A full fourth
part of their force never reached
the top of the lofty embankment;
the three-fourths reached it
and plunged over -- to death
by drowning.
Within ten short minutes after
we had opened fire, armed resistance
was totally annihilated, the
campaign was ended, we fifty-four
were masters of England. Twenty-five
thousand men lay dead around
us.
But how treacherous is fortune!
In a little while -- say an hour
-- happened a thing, by my own
fault, which -- but I have no
heart to write that. Let the
record end here.
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