Kitabı oku: «The Fall of a Nation», sayfa 16

CHAPTER XLII

THE preparations for the grand celebration of the Conqueror’s birthday by the people of America were complete to the last detail at noon on the day preceding.

The Governor-General was determined to make this event an example in promptness, glorious display and perfect efficiency. How prompt and efficient its real managers were going to make it he could not dream!

Every suspicion of disloyalty had been put at rest by the eager enthusiasm with which the Woman’s Legion of Honor, with its five thousand chapters, had taken the lead in preparation under Virginia’s brilliant direction. For three months the most beautiful girls in America had vied with one another in courting the favor of the army for the approaching festival. From the Governor-General down to the sailors of the fleet our girls had eyes only for the Imperial Army uniforms.

The artillerymen, the aviators, and the submarine experts were the favorites. The conquerors began to feel a contemptuous pity for the poor native devils their charms had put out of the running.

Even the chauffeurs and railroad officials were everywhere courted and fêted by the fair ones. Every railroad agent, conductor, dispatcher, and superintendent was an officer in the Imperial Army. These men, who had rarely shared the glory of the regular army, were particularly elated over their triumphs with the girls.

When the Day dawned every terminal and every train in America was decorated with the royal flags. The spirit of abandonment to joy in a strange, subdued mania swept the nation. Beneath it beat the throbbing hearts of a million Sons of the New Revolution and a million Daughters of Jael who had offered their souls and bodies a living sacrifice for the glory of the Day. The contagion of earnestness from these eager millions of young men and women set every heart to beating with expectant awe.

Angela received her final instructions at the Holland house at six o’clock. The magnificent display of fireworks would begin at eight-thirty, the dancing at nine-thirty, the banquet at eleven-thirty.

“You have a girl with every chauffeur?” Virginia asked sharply.

“Si, signorina – “ Angela paused and smiled. “And they have learned to drive, too – yes – they have had some fun these three months!”

“At the Seventy-first Armory, a girl for every sailor of the fleet?”

“For every one – ”

“At the Twelfth Regiment?”

“For the birdmen’s chauffeurs – I have two – very prettiest girls – two for each – ”

“At the Seventh Regiment?”

“A girl for every waiter to help them serve. My girls they help the waiters everywhere – ”

A look of fierce triumph overspread the dark features of the little mother. Her eyes grew misty. She fumbled in her bosom and slowly drew out the blood-stained flag her boy had worn on his breast.

“And I have the flag, signorina! When I tear the red crown from the staff I wave this one and shout for my bambino.”

Virginia merely nodded. Her mind was sweeping the last possibility of accident.

“You haven’t been able to reach a single man among the wireless operators of the Woolworth tower?” she asked dreamily.

“Not one, signorina. The old devil up there don’t like the girls. He is not human – ”

“There’s no help for it then,” she answered. “We’ll try another way. When all is ready attend me at the palace of the Governor-General. When the signal flashes from the Metropolitan tower I want the car I always drive at the door instantly – ”

“Si, signorina – my chauffeur he like me very much – I must think of my bambino when I strike!”

“You will not fail?” Virginia sternly asked.

Angela touched the little flag and shook her head.

“Do not fear – I shall not fail!” She paused, bent close and whispered, “My chauffeur join our men, signorina – the Sergeant of the big guns, too. He swear to me the guns shall be ours!”

With a quick pressure of her hand Virginia hurried to enter the car of state which was already standing at the door.

The streets were thronged with thousands who talked in subdued tones. They had felt the iron hand on their throats too often during the past three years to abandon themselves to the occasion.

There were no screeching horns, no riotous boys and girls hurling confetti. Such crude expressions of liberty were forbidden.

Beneath the outer quiet slumbered the coming volcano.

Virginia drove to the Waldorf-Astoria, sent her card to a distinguished guest and was ushered into his parlors.

The dark foreigner with a Van Dyke beard bowed over her hand.

“Your Lordship had a pleasant trip across I trust?” she asked.

The door closed and they were alone.

With a smothered cry she was in Vassar’s arms murmuring foolish, inarticulate sounds.

She freed herself with quick decision.

“There’s not a moment to be lost,” Virginia whispered. “I’ve failed to reach a single man in the Woolworth tower.”

“It must be taken then!” he answered firmly. “I have ordered the other stations destroyed. We must hold that before we strike in the banquet halls. I’ve made my plans to call our cavalry and automobile orders from there. Our first line of men must mobilize and be on their way within five minutes after the searchlight signals from the Square – ”

He paused thoughtfully.

“There’s not a moment to be lost. I’ll take that tower myself. Send three of your girls to meet me there at nine o’clock dressed as country folks on a sight-seeing trip to the city – ”

“Armed of course?”

“Yes – with automatics if you have them – I’ll find a way to get them up to see the fireworks.”

At nine o’clock a noisy group of country louts succeeded in reaching the room that led by a narrow winding stairs to the upper room of the Woolworth tower. They were singing loyal songs for God and Emperor! Their pilot was drunk but good-natured and determined to show them the pinnacle.

The cautious red-faced Captain in charge of the wireless, who had been celebrating a little on the quiet, had thawed to a genial mood.

“T’ree cheers for Zemperor!” the jovial pilot from the country shouted.

The Captain laughed and joined the chorus. He glanced contemptuously at the giggling girls.

“Say, Cap,” the leader cried, leaning heavily on his shoulder – “my girls gotter see the fireworks – from the top – tip top! I promised ’em I’d take ’em to the very tip top – gotter make good – ”

His legs wobbled and his breath was heavy with beer.

The Captain laughed.

“Think you could climb these winding stairs?”

“Surest thing you know.”

The drunken man staggered to the steps, rushed half way up, slipped and fell, sprawling to the floor.

The Captain roared.

“Try again!” he shouted. “I’ll let you go but not these women!”

The girls joined in the laughter while he made another ludicrous effort and slipped again.

The two operators left their instruments and peered down the shaft.

“Go back to your places – this is my show!” the Captain called.

The drunken countryman watched them withdraw with wagging head but keen eye. He saw there were only two. He knew his task now.

He made another desperate effort to climb the spiral, turned a complete somersault and came down headforemost.

The Captain slipped to a sitting posture weak with laughter.

“Shay, pardner, help me!” the drunken one pleaded.

“No – this is my show – it’s too good to lose – I’m the audience – help yourself!”

The drunken countryman tried it backward this time, holding first to the rail.

The Captain wiped the tears from his eyes and bent again to laugh as the fool reached the last step and waved in triumph. He turned and staggered against the wall feeling his way to the door beyond.

The girls crowded about the Captain.

“Please let us go too!” they chimed in chorus.

The Captain was adamant. They kept up their parrot cries until the crash above came. They heard the blow that felled the first operator – the shuffle of feet, the tiger spring, the smothered cry.

It was all over with the Captain before the cry. Three fierce, athletic girls bore him to the floor and held his writhing body until it was still.

“All right!” Vassar called. “Stand guard now at the door leading from the elevator – inside the door. Let no one pass!”

The leader of his guard touched her hat in salute. He took his place at the operator’s table and answered a call from the tower of the Governor-General’s palace.

“Your wireless stations have all answered?” the machine sang.

“All” – was the brief answer.

“I’ll give you the signal for the Emperor’s toast on the stroke of twelve.”

“Good!” Vassar answered with a grim smile.

CHAPTER XLIII

BEFORE eleven o’clock the Daughters of Jael, accorded the place of honor at every banquet hall, had succeeded in slipping from drunken soldiers and sailors thousands of arms. Swift automobiles, commandeered by their persuasive voices, or taken by direct attack from maudlin chauffeurs, were speeding with these guns to the appointed places. More than two hundred thousand soldiers of the Imperial Army have deserted to our colors.

Ten thousand rough riders from the Western plains had been smuggled into the suburban districts of New York since the embargo on horses had been lifted. They were armed with lances and only awaited the advent of revolvers to lead the attack.

Each soldier from the Far West had reached the Eastern seaboard as an individual and reported secretly to his commander. They were in their brown kahki suits tonight stripped for action, awaiting the signal to strike.

Billy Holland, a captain of infantry, had been chosen by Vassar to lead the assault on Waldron’s place. His sweetheart and sister were behind the walls of the Governor-General’s magnificent house and the division leader knew the boy’s mettle. That he would give a good account of himself Vassar was absolutely sure.

As Waldron entered the grand ballroom, accompanied by Virginia, Marya, Zonia and a group of young admiring officers, Billy led his men cautiously through the underbrush toward the house.

On the signal of the toast to the Emperor, the Daughters of Jael had agreed to join their lovers, extinguish the lights, strike down the sentinels and the rest would be easy.

The men in the palace were joyously drunk before eleven. Only a few officers survived the siren call of the cup urged by the charming girls in their white and gold uniforms.

Waldron led the dancing with Virginia Holland. He moved with the easy grace of a master, never missing for an instant the perfect rhythm of her lithe, graceful body.

The surprise of the evening for the Governor-General had been the appearance of every American woman wearing the shining helmet of the soldier of the ranks in token of their full surrender to Imperial authority.

“A beautiful idea – those helmets!” he whispered as they swept through the throng.

“You are pleased?”

“I am more than pleased, I am happy tonight. I know that only your brilliant imagination could have conceived so graceful a tribute to my Imperial Master – ”

He paused.

“You are closer to me tonight than ever before,” he said softly. “I feel it, I know it.”

She turned her head and breathed her answer:

“Yes – ”

The dancing ended at eleven-thirty. Waldron gave his arm to Virginia and led the way to the banquet tables. A band of stringed instruments, concealed in bowers of roses, filled the room with exquisite music. The waiters moved with swift, noiseless tread.

The revelry steadily grew faster, the drinking deeper, the dancing more exciting.

Billy’s men had dropped flat and were crawling toward the open space in front of the palace when a light footfall was distinctly heard approaching. Billy lifted his head and saw Zonia. She halted with quick precision and gave the countersign.

In a moment she was in his arms.

“What on earth’s the matter, little girl?” he whispered excitedly.

“Virginia fears that Waldron suspects,” was the quick answer.

“Nonsense” —

“He has doubled the guard – Virginia says you’d better retreat until a full division comes up – ”

“I’ll not do it,” Billy broke in. “Four to one, or ten to one, I’m going to take that house – ”

“She’ll give the signal if I don’t return,” Zonia warned.

“All right – I’m ready,” was the firm response. In quick business fashion Billy led Zonia back of his lines. “Wait here and report if I fail” —

The young Captain crept back to his place and watched for the flash from the Madison Square tower and the signal of lights out from within.

On the stroke of twelve, Waldron rose, lifted his glass and gave the toast – the exact form of which he had sent to every toastmaster in America:

“To the Lord of War – master of the world – the Emperor!”

Virginia’s left hand clasped the glass, her right was lifted with nervous intensity giving the sign of the Daughters of Jael to Marya whose hand was on the electric switch. The searchlight on the Madison Square tower flashed and every whistle in the city and harbor screamed its tribute.

With a sudden click the lights went out. In total darkness again and again the blows of the dagger found their mark on the sentinels at the door. Over the curses, groans and shouts rang the shrill battle cry of the Daughters of Jael:

“For our God and country!”

Waldron’s keen eye caught the tremor of Virginia’s fingers as she gave the sign to Marya. The uplifted glass came down with a crash and his iron fist closed on her right hand.

“So!” he growled.

She fought with tigress strength to free her hand and reach the knife concealed in her bodice.

Waldron shouted through the darkness, “Lights! Lights!”

His servants threw the switch in vain. The current had been cut.

With muttered curses he choked Virginia still, carried her in his arms into his library, tore the knife from her bodice and flung her across the room.

“Move a muscle now – damn you! and I’ll blow your brains out.” He had found a pair of automatics in his table drawer.

He called from the doorway and two guards who had rushed in from the lawn answered.

He pointed to Virginia.

“If she moves, shoot her dead in her tracks. Stay until I return.”

He sprang up the narrow steps to the wireless tower. His operator sat lifeless in his chair.

He seized the keys and called central in the Woolworth tower.

“The Garrison to arms! At once – every man to his place and every ship’s deck cleared!”

The tower answered O. K.

Vassar sprang to his feet trembling with alarm.

She had failed at the Palace. What did it mean? Her life was in peril. There could be no doubt of it.

He called every wireless station of the enemy on the North Atlantic. Not one answered.

“Good!” he muttered.

He summoned the nearest operator to his relief in the tower:

“Come, for God’s sake, quick,” he called to Brooklyn, “and bring me a car – there’s trouble at the Palace – ”

“Coming!” the answer sang.

In fifteen minutes an automobile dashed across the bridge and drew up on the curb at the Woolworth building.

The new operator took his instructions and Vassar turned to the chauffeur:

“Quick now – to the Sixty-ninth Regiment Armory. We have men and guns there.”

Angela had waited in the machine for her leader to leap from the Palace and drive to the first cavalry rendezvous in Westchester. Her chauffeur sat by her side, smiling, his belt and automatic about her waist.

She heard the shout of Waldron for the guards and knew that the complete plan had failed. Billy’s men had been crushed by superior numbers and driven to the foot of the hill. The great man’s servants were trained soldiers. They would fight like devils inside.

With quick wit she threw in the clutch and the big touring-car shot down the road and flew over the smooth open way of Riverside Drive. In fifteen minutes she overtook the first division of horsemen on the outskirts of the city galloping to their appointed rendezvous.

“To the Palace of the Governor-General! Quick!” she shouted to the Captain. “Take my car – I can take your horse – quick! Quick! Our leader’s a prisoner – or dead – they fight and fight. Quick!”

The Captain sprang from his horse, called to the chauffeur, leaped into the car and gave his horse to Angela. She had learned horsemanship too in these two years of training.

“You know the rendezvous?” the Captain called.

“Si, signor!” Angela answered. “I know. I have been to every spot. I was to drive my leader there. I go! I tell them. You go to her quick – for God’s sake – quick!”

Urged by her low, nervous voice the horse dashed down the roadway through Yonkers and on to summon the men.

Waldron returned to the banquet hall – an automatic in each hand. He was a man of dauntless courage. The lights were on again. His assistant engineer had found the break and hastily repaired it.

The magnificent hall was deserted. Only the dead sentinels lay in pools of blood on the slippery floor. The Daughters of Jael had done their work and gone – their task to disarm the enemy and deliver the equipments to our waiting men. Every sword and automatic had fallen into their hands except those worn by the sleeping guard in their quarters and the half-dozen men who were scattered over the lawn.

Waldron quickly brought order out of chaos, barred his doors and found that he held his castle still with eighty faithful soldiers and a dozen wounded servants.

He entered the library and took his place as the special guard of Virginia.

He deliberately took her in his arms and kissed her lips. Her mind was still stunned by the anguish of her failure. There was no longer feeling in body or soul. Nothing mattered.

“You’re mine!” he cried fiercely. “I hold you Cossack fashion now!”

He paused in breathless rage, stepped close and struck her a stinging blow with his open hand. She fell across a divan and he stood over the prostrate body with clenched fists.

“To think,” he growled, “that I made this idiotic blunder to win your smile! Well, it’s mine! I’ve won it – do you hear? You’ve failed! My men are coming – do you hear?”

The slender, graceful form lay limp and still – the face chalk-white. She had swooned at last. The blow was more than unconquered pride could endure.

He gazed a moment with bloodshot eyes, dropped suddenly on his knees and took her in his arms.

“I love you – I love you – and you’re all mine now – all – all mine, body and soul! My Lucretia Borgia – eh? Well, you’ve found your master. And you’re worth the fight!”

CHAPTER XLIV

WALDRON left Virginia to recover, as he knew she would, and hurried again to the tower to rush his garrison. The answer came at once:

“The men are on the way, sir.”

They were! Ten thousand cavalrymen with guidons streaming from their lances! A thousand automobiles were sweeping with them in companies of twenty – each machine packed with sturdy infantrymen, their battle standards flying from speeding cars.

The first division of cavalry which Angela had summoned rescued Billy’s hard pressed men, wiped out his opponents, and reached the shelter of the porte-cochère before Waldron’s guard inside realized their presence.

Supposing the Imperial troops had answered the summons the big doors were opened. The entrance was forced before Waldron saw they wore the felt hats of the United States Army.

He slammed the massive doors of the library, dragged Virginia through another exit and reached the upper story by the rear stairway.

The Captain held the lower floor. Waldron’s guard with their rifles and automatics commanded the landings of the two stairs. Vassar found his men holding a council of war when he leaped from his car and entered the blood-stained doorway of the banquet hall.

Vassar had just formed his men in solid mass to rush the stairway and batter in the door above, when the big elevator shot down the shaft, showing Waldron with Virginia under guard. In a flash he recalled that the entrance from the Drive passed through the hill to this shaft. If Waldron could reach the pier he might yet escape on his yacht.

Vassar rushed to the window and looked toward the river.

The yacht lay beside the wharf, her portholes gleaming, her funnels belching flame and smoke. The engineer had gotten the signal. He was using oil to force the steam.

With a fierce cry of rage Vassar called to Billy and a dozen men leaped after them.

They reached the foot of the hill as Waldron emerged from the tunnel to dash across the fifty-yard space that separated him from the Drive. The yacht was but a hundred yards beyond the road.

The Governor-General formed a hollow square with his faithful guard – Virginia a prisoner within their circle of steel.

Waldron shouted to his men:

“A fortune and a title for every man who fights his way to the water’s edge!”

The guard fired a volley at Vassar’s approaching men and dashed for the roadway at the moment Angela rounded the curve, riding furiously at the head of a company of the Daughters of Jael.

The white-robed girl riders charged straight for their foes. Waldron, taken completely by surprise, raised his automatic to kill Virginia. His finger was pressing the trigger when Angela swept close, thrust a revolver into his face, fired and circled to fire again.

The Governor-General crumpled in his tracks and his men surrendered.

Virginia threw herself into Vassar’s arms.

“I fear I have failed, my love!”

“Your army has not failed, dear heart!” he answered. “You have lifted a fallen nation from the dust!”

It was true.

A hundred cities ran red with blood – but day dawned with the flag of freedom flying from every staff save in Norfolk and Boston.

In both those important ports the plot had been betrayed, hundreds of suspected women arrested and imprisoned. The serious part of it was in these two harbors were stationed four huge dreadnaughts and forty submarines with accompanying hydroplanes.

In New York the insurrection had swept all before it. The crews of the submarines were wiped out. Of all who had gathered at the dance and banquet halls – Angela’s work had been perfect – not a sailor from the fleet set foot again on their decks. Our boys, dressed in their uniforms, had captured every ship before day – hand to hand, muscle against muscle, with six inches of cold steel!

The aviation corps had been practically wiped out. Their machines were circling the skies at dawn passing the signals to our commanders. Every arsenal fell and every ammunition factory.

When the sun rose on the harbor of New York the Stars and Stripes flew from every ship and every fort and an army of five hundred thousand men, half of them with the best rifles in their hands and big guns lumbering in their lines, were mobilizing under General Wood to capture Boston and Norfolk.

The battles that followed were brief, bloody and glorious in their end. Norfolk they abandoned and their fleet was concentrated on Boston.

The Imperial Army and Navy fought with reckless bravery, but the end was sure. They were outnumbered now, two to one. Their submarines stayed with superhuman courage and sent six battleships with five thousand of our bravest men to their graves before they went down.

The captains of the dreadnaughts, when they saw the end had come, swung their prows into the teeth of our fleet and sank with colors flying.

On the day our army marched into Boston with bands playing “The Star Spangled Banner,” three hundred thousand Bostonians stood in silence and tears and watched them pass the old State House, along Columbus Avenue, up Tremont Street and through Beacon to the steps of the Capitol. There they stood for hours and sang

 
“My Country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of Liberty,
Of thee I sing.”
 

The President and his Cabinet, released from Fort Warren, reviewed our victorious fleet the following day.

There were no vulgar cheers. Their souls were stirred to greater depths.

When the triumphal procession swung past the old Armory on the East Side of New York, Virginia Holland, with Zonia and Marya, rode at the head of a division of fifty thousand Daughters of Jael. The orderly outrider on her left was a slender Italian mother, on whose breast was pinned a tiny blood-stained flag of the Republic.

Congress met in December. The Senate used the East Room of the Executive Mansion, the House of Representatives met in the Belasco Theater. These two buildings stood intact.

John Vassar was elected speaker of the House without a dissenting voice. His bride from her seat in the gallery watched through tear-dimmed eyes as he took his seat on the dais, and two wistful girls, with smiling faces, sat beside her.

The first bill for consideration was passed without debate in just the time it took to call the roll – the bill which Vassar had introduced five years before – providing for a mobile army of citizen soldiers of a million men with heavy artillery and perfect equipment.

The cost of our defeat and humiliation with two years of slavery had been more than thirty billions of the wealth of the people. This fabulous sum could have been saved by a paltry half billion invested in a navy.

Taught wisdom at last in the school of defeat, a mighty nation lifted her head and girded her loins for a glorious future.