Authors: Final Blackout
He stayed for a little longer and then, unwillingly, turned and went out.
The Lieutenant dealt another hand of solitaire, but he did not play it.
Bugles began to blare about the keep. Commands barked. He wandered to the window and, half sitting on the ledge, looked down at the Inner Ward.
Troops were hurrying out, dragging their equipment after them and getting into it as they jolted each other, straightening out their lines. These were infantry scouts whose positions lay about the base of Tower Hill. A company of snipers was hurrying from their quarters in the Bloody Tower to man the battlements of the outer wall, hands full of bandoleers and spare rifles. Gian was checking his men as they leaped by him and up the steps to their guns on the twelve towers of the Inner Wall.
Mounted messengers were saddling skittish Scot horses, holding their orders in their teeth and swearing as only couriers can swear. Bit by bit these streamed out of the Inner Ward and thundered through the Byward Tower and across the moat to be swallowed from sight by the stone houses which circled the base of the hill.
The scout company of the Fourth Brigade, to which was entrusted the defense of the piece de résistance, the White Tower where the Lieutenant had his quarters and offices in company with the ghosts of England's monarchs, followed hard on the heels of Carstair up the steps.
The hot August sun slanted its rays upon the swirling cloaks and helmets, brightened in peace officers who came up from the town to be detailed by Carstair on special duty.
The Lieutenant raised his eyes from the gray walls and blue uniforms below and looked at the banner which floated lazily from its staff upon the Byward Tower, over the gate. Satiny white it was, with the insignia of a lieutenant embroidered upon it in gold. It had been presented to him by the people and, to them, represented peace and security and justice. To him it represented the confidence reposed in him by his people, not unlike that which he had received from the Fourth Brigade. No questions were asked or had ever been asked by his soldiers or his people.
From his vantage point he could see far down the Thames and he looked in that direction now. The river was spotted with traffic, ships from his coasts, sailing up to London, barges plying across the stream or bringing produce down from the upper reaches, small skiffs filled with pleasure seekers. But these, as bugles resounded at the batteries, were now making for shore, leaving the river a great yellow expanse, hot in the sunlight.
. Weasel came in. "Everything is ready, sir. I took it for granted you did not want to be bothered with reports."
"Thank you, Weasel."
"Sir
¯
"
But whatever Weasel said was engulfed in a roar of sound. The Lieutenant instinctively moved back from the window and Weasel threw himself down flat on the pave. But no following scream resulted, no machine guns chattered and, in a moment, Weasel picked himself up. His gesture was so thoroughly a part of training ingrained by the years that he did not even remark upon it. Curiously he advanced to the window beside the Lieutenant.
Mawkey hurled himself into the room and stood there, big-eyed and hunched up. "A plane just went over!"
The snarl resounded again and Mawkey pushed himself flat against the wall and tensed. The ship took two turns above London and then vanished so swiftly to the east that it appeared to have shrunken suddenly to nothing.
"Reconnaissance," said Weasel. "I haven't seen one of those for years!"
Carstair came in from above. "Sir, Gian signaled me to ask if you want to shoot the next time it comes over."
"With what?" said the Lieutenant.
Carstair stood a little straighter. "Yes, that's so. I've never seen anything so fast. All motors and guns and bombs."
The Lieutenant did not turn from the window. "Pass the word if anyone wants to leave this fortress, he has my permission!'
"I can answer that now," said Carstair. "When we leave it will be over the wall into the riverdead."
The Lieutenant did not speak.
Carstair beckoned and Weasel and Mawkey slid out, closing the doors behind them. The Lieutenant hardly knew they were gone. Suddenly he turned around and marched to his desk. He picked up his cards and then hurled them to the floor. He went back to the window.
In a few minutes he saw the sun glance off metal far downriver. And even as he looked the boat grew in size. It hurled back very little spray, but it scudded upstrearn like some possessed water bug. It went into reverse and shot sideways to the Queen's Steps at, the Tower wharf and out of it leaped a guard of marines, resplendent in blue.
The Lieutenant could not see what passed, but, in a moment, Carstair came in. "Sir, they are armed, each man with a sort of miniature machine gun.
Your orders?"
"Is Swinburne here?"
"He came a moment ago."
"Send him up. And let them come in immediately after. I'll appreciate it if you and any other officers who happen to be here will step in for the reception. "
"Let them in armed?"
"Why not?"
"Yes, sir." Carstair went away.
Presently Swinburne came up the steps. He was just back from a long trip inland, inspecting some of the new homes of the countryside, and he was still lathered by his horse and his boots were muddy. But his one good eye blazed and his empty sleeve was thrust angrily into his tunic pocket.
"What's this, old fellow?"
"United States of America. A battleship standing off Sheerness. Its captain and some civilians coming up for an interview."
Swinburne scowled and laid his crop and cap upon the window seat. "Anything I can do?"
"Just stand by."
Carstair stepped in. "Everyone else at his post along the river."
"All right. Show them up."
Swinburne was sensible of a stiffening in the Lieutenant's bearing as he sat down in the great chair. Swinburne stood on his right, hand on the chair back.
A double file of soldiers could be heard taking positions on the landing, to their side of the door, and then Carstair opened it and, standing at attention, said, "Three Americans to see you, sir."
"Let them come in," said Swinburne.
Carstair stepped back on the inside. A glint of polished metal gleamed where the marines stood at the top of the steps. The three Americans marched between the honor-guard files and into the room. Carstair dosed the door and stood with back against it, arms folded. Probably he was the only man in the garrison who knew the United States from actual contact, for he had crossed it on his way to England fourteen years before.
The two gentlemen in the lead were dressed in somber clothing of a loose cut which gave their rotund figures even more breadth. They were both rather soft-looking, for their jowls were loose and their stomachs protruded. One was clearly a dynamic fellow, whose head was bushy with gray hair and whose eyes held a piercing look which was almost a challenge. He was the leader.
"I ' " he said with unction, "am Senator Frisman of Arkansas. This is my brother in diplomacy, Senator Breckwell, Jefferson Breckwell, who represents the proud State of Ohio in our nation's capital at Washington. And while we are party enemies, he being a Socialist and myself a Social-Democrat, we are firm friends. May I present Senator Breckwell?"
Breckwell bowed. He was a rather vacant-faced fellow, completely bald, having a pair of very mild and apologetic eyes which dropped the instant they met the Lieutenant's.
Senator Frisman cleared his throat. "And may I also present that very able captain of our nation's powerful fleet, who commands one of our finest cruisers as well as our admiring respect, Captain Johnson."
Stealing an uneasy glance at Senator Frisman, Captain Johnson bowed. He was a gaunt, hard fellow who smacked of the sea and the bridge. He did not approve of Senator Frisman.
"And so," said Frisman, unaware of the silence which was greeting his loquacity, "we are proud to be able to meet your majesty, for we have excellent news for our English brothers."
Swinburne's voice had always had the quality of a sputtering fuse, but now it sizzled. "You are ad dressing the Lieutenant, gentlemen. He has been good enough to grant you audience. Please come to the point. "
"The Lieutenant?" said Frisman. "But we have nothing to do with your army.
We wish to speak to your dictator or king or Communist leader
¯
"
"'The Lieutenant' is a title," said Swinburne. "He rules here."
"But said Frisman, "a lieutenant is just a lower rank in the army and we
¯
"
"The title," said Swinburne, keeping his patience, "has been removed from our army list out of respect. You said something about a message!'
Frisman realized suddenly that he wasn't doing so well. Captain Johnson was glaring at him and even Senator Breckwell was fumbling with his collar.
They had suddenly become acutely aware of the Lieutenant.
He sat quite still. Altogether too still. His eyes were calm, as though masking a great deal, a fact which was far more effective than an outright glare. He was slender and hard and good-looking, having yet to celebrate his thirty-second birthday. His tunic was blue, faded but well pressed and clean, innocent of any bright work other than the simple insignia of his rank. He wore, as a habit too old to break, crossbelts of dull leather, to which was holstered an automatic pistol. His small blue fatigue cap sat a little over one ear, but his helmet, with visor raised, was close by upon his desk. His cape, patched where a hundred and more bullets had struck, lay over the back of his chair. He did not feel comfortable without these things at his hand, for they had been part of him too long. A shaft of late-afternoon sun came like a beam through the upper windows and lay in a pool upon the desk before him, rendering the Lieutenant all the more indefinite of image behind it.
The antiquity of this place with its thick, scarred walls began to enter into the trio. They were sensible that here was England, whether in the garb of a soldier or in the gaudy robes of a king.
"Captain Johnson' " said the Lieutenant, "will you please step here to the desk and be seated?"
Johnson was made uneasy by the order for it was an affront to the two civilians. But civilians, to the Lieutenant, were either politicians or peasants, both equally bad.
Johnson eased himself into the chair. He was a competent officer and an excellent judge of men and he had some idea now of whom he faced.
"Captain Johnson," said the Lieutenant, "a little while ago a battle plane flew over London. That, I presume, was from your ship?"
"Yes," said Johnson. "We wished to make sure that the river was clear."
"And yet it might have dropped bombs."
"I am sorry if it has offended."
"I do not recall giving any permission other than that you might call here."
"I offer my apologies."
"You have not been at war for many, many years," said the Lieutenant. "At least, so far as I know. You have not seen bombers wipe out whole cities and populations. The presence of that ship in our skies, in other times, would have been construed as a declaration of war. Unfortunately we had no antiaircraft batteries or we would have shot it down without orders, thus creating a very bad incident."
"If I had known
¯
"
"That flight and the pictures you probably took of the countryside and our batteries downriver have told you how poor are our defenses. Against that one plane we are helpless."
Captain Johnson colored a little with shame.
There had been pictures. "I shall turn them over to you. Call in the guard and I shall bring you the strips. "
"That will do no good. You have already seen them. Very well. Let us forget it. Will you please acquaint me with the purpose of this visit?"
Johnson hesitated, glancing at Frisman. The senator and his confrere accepted it as an order and stepped closer to the desk, ranging beside Johnson.
"We have come on a mission of mercy," said Frisman. "We know how desolate your nation has been made by war
¯
"
"Why didn't you come years ago?"
"The disease known as soldier's sickness put a stop to all transatlantic traffic. And then the insect plagues
¯
"
"Why aren't you afraid of these now?" said the Lieutenant.
"Because we have succeeded in perfecting serums and poisons to combat the scourges. We have," he said eagerly, "a great quantity of this serum aboard and if you like
¯
"
"One was developed here. Out of human blood. And we need no serum for we are naturally immune. And we need no plant-insect poison for we have crops which withstand them."
"But food
¯
" began Frisman. It was the start of something dramatic, but it was cut off.
"We raise all the food and supplies which we can use."
Frisman sagged a little. He felt like a man beating against stone. "Lieutenant. It has been long since that cry, 'Hands Across the Sea' was sounded. But now, at last, it can be cried out once more. We wish to do anything we can to rehabilitate your country. We can have shiploads of machinery and skilled workmen, planes, trains, and steamers which we can give you. Our only wish is to see this country blossom. And we mean to say not a word about debts, considering that the surrender of British colonies in the Americas has evened the score completely. We are even prepared to restore this nation to its once proud state, giving it back its African possessions and all the development which has been done upon them. Your land cries out for succor. We are back to the birthplace of our own proud nation, offering to repay the debt of centuries
¯
"