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The “Vaterland” Is Disabled7
Bert got the news last, and chiefly in broken English, from a linguist among his mates. It was only far on in the night that the weary telegraphist got an answer to his calls, but then the messages came clear and strong. And such news it was!
"I say," said Bert at his breakfast, amidst a great clamour, "tell us a bit."
"All de vorlt is at vor!" said the linguist, waving his cocoa in an illustrative manner, "all de vorlt is at vor!"
Bert stared southward into the dawn. It did not seem so.
"All de vorlt is at vor! They haf burn` Berlin; they haf burn` London; they haf burn` Hamburg and Paris. Chapan hass burn San Francisco. We haf mate a camp at Niagara. Dat is whad they are telling us. China has cot drachenflieger and luftschiffe beyont counting. All de vorlt is at vor!"
"Gaw I" said Bert.
"Yess," said the linguist, drinking his cocoa.
"Burnt up London, `ave they? Like we did New York?"
"It wass a bombardment."
"They don`t say anything about a place called Clapham, or Bun Hill, do they?"
"I haf heard noding," said the linguist.
That was all Bert could get for a time. But the excitement of all the men about him was contagious, and presently he saw Kurt standing alone, hands behind him, and looking at one of the distant waterfalls very steadfastly. He went up and saluted, soldier-fashion. "Beg pardon, lieutenant," he said.
Kurt turned his face. It was unusually grave that morning. "I was just thinking I would like to see that waterfall closer," he said. "It reminds me--what do you want?"
"I can`t make `ead or tail of what they`re saying, sir. Would you mind telling me the news?"
"Damn the news," said Kurt. "You`ll get news enough before the day`s out. It`s the end of the world. They`re sending the Graf Zeppelin for us. She`ll be here by the morning, and we ought to be at Niagara--or eternal smash--within eight and forty hours.... I want to look at that waterfall. You`d better come with me. Have you had your rations?"
"Yessir."
"Very well. Come."
And musing profoundly, Kurt led the way across the rocks towards the distant waterfall.
For a time Bert walked behind him in the character of an escort; then as they passed out of the atmosphere of the encampment, Kurt lagged for him to come alongside.
"We shall be back in it all in two days` time," he said. "And it`s a devil of a war to go back to. That`s the news. The world`s gone mad. Our fleet beat the Americans the night we got disabled, that`s clear. We lost eleven--eleven airships certain, and all their aeroplanes got smashed. God knows how much we smashed or how many we killed. But that was only the beginning. Our start`s been like firing a magazine. Every country was hiding flying-machines. They`re fighting in the air all over Europe--all over the world. The Japanese and Chinese have joined in. That`s the great fact. That`s the supreme fact. They`ve pounced into our little quarrels.... The Yellow Peril was a peril after all! They`ve got thousands of airships. They`re all over the world. We bombarded London and Paris, and now the French and English have smashed up Berlin. And now Asia is at us all, and on the top of us all.... It`s mania. China on the top. And they don`t know where to stop. It`s limitless. It`s the last confusion. They`re bombarding capitals, smashing up dockyards and factories, mines and fleets."
"Did they do much to London, sir?" asked Bert.
"Heaven knows...."
He said no more for a time.
"This Labrador seems a quiet place," he resumed at last. "I`m half a mind to stay here. Can`t do that. No! I`ve got to see it through. I`ve got to see it through. You`ve got to, too. Every one.... But why?... I tell you--our world`s gone to pieces. There`s no way out of it, no way back. Here we are! We`re like mice caught in a house on fire, we`re like cattle overtaken by a flood. Presently we shall be picked up, and back we shall go into the fighting. We shall kill and smash again--perhaps. It`s a Chino-Japanese air-fleet this time, and the odds are against us. Our turns will come. What will happen to you I don`t know, but for myself, I know quite well; I shall be killed."
"You`ll be all right," said Bert, after a queer pause.
"No!" said Kurt, "I`m going to be killed. I didn`t know, it before, but this morning, at dawn, I knew it-as though I`d been told."
"`Ow?"
"I tell you I know."
"But `ow COULD you know?"
"I know."
"Like being told?"
"Like being certain.
"I know," he repeated, and for a time they walked in silence towards the waterfall.
Kurt, wrapped in his thoughts, walked heedlessly, and at last broke out again. "I`ve always felt young before, Smallways, but this morning I feel old--old. So old! Nearer to death than old men feel. And I`ve always. thought life was a lark. It isn`t.... This sort of thing has always been happening, I suppose--these things, wars and earthquakes, that sweep across all the decency of life. It`s just as though I had woke up to it all for the first time. Every night since we were at New York I`ve dreamt of it.... And it`s always been so--it`s the way of life. People are torn away from the people they care for; homes are smashed, creatures full of life, and memories, and little peculiar gifts are scalded and smashed, and torn to pieces, and starved, and spoilt. London! Berlin! San Francisco! Think of all the human histories we ended in New York!... And the others go on again as though such things weren`t possible. As I went on! Like animals! Just like animals."
He said nothing for a long time, and then he dropped out, "The Prince is a lunatic!"
They came to a place where they had to climb, and then to a long peat level beside rivulet. There a quantity of delicate little pink flowers caught Bert`s eye. "Gaw!" he said, and stooped to pick one. "In a place like this."
Kurt stopped and half turned. His face winced.
"I never see such a flower," said Bert. "It`s so delicate."
"Pick some more if you want to," said Kurt.
Bert did so, while Kurt stood and watched him.
"Funny `ow one always wants to pick flowers," said Bert.
Kurt had nothing to add to that.
They went on again, without talking, for a long time.
At last they came to a rocky hummock, from which the view of the waterfall opened out. There Kurt stopped and seated himself on a rock.
"That`s as much as I wanted to see," he explained. "It isn`t very like, but it`s like enough."
"Like what?"
"Another waterfall I knew."
He asked a question abruptly. "Got a girl, Smallways?"
"Funny thing," said Bert, "those flowers, I suppose.--I was jes` thinking of `er."
"So was I."
"WHAT! Edna?"
"No. I was thinking of MY Edna. We`ve all got Ednas, I suppose, for our imaginations to play about. This was a girl. But all that`s past for ever. It`s hard to think I can`t see her just for a minute--just let her know I`m thinking of her."
"Very likely," said Bert, "you`ll see `er all right."
"No," said Kurt with decision, "I KNOW."
"I met her," he went on, "in a place like this--in the Alps--Engstlen Alp. There`s a waterfall rather like this one--a broad waterfall down towards Innertkirchen. That`s why I came here this morning. We slipped away and had half a day together beside it. And we picked flowers. Just such flowers as you picked. The same for all I know. And gentian."
"I know" said Bert, "me and Edna--we done things like that. Flowers. And all that. Seems years off now."
"She was beautiful and daring and shy, Mein Gott! I can hardly hold myself for the desire to see her and hear her voice again before I die. Where is she?... Look here, Smallways, I shall write a sort of letter-- And there`s her portrait." He touched his breast pocket.
"You`ll see `er again all right," said Bert.
"No`! I shall never see her again.... I don`t understand why people should meet just to be torn apart. But I know she and I will never meet again. That I know as surely as that the sun will rise, and that cascade come shining over the rocks after I am dead and done.... Oh! It`s all foolishness and haste and violence and cruel folly, stupidity and blundering hate and selfish ambition--all the things that men have done--all the things they will ever do. Gott! Smallways, what a muddle and confusion life has always been--the battles and massacres and disasters, the hates and harsh acts, the murders and sweatings, the lynchings and cheatings. This morning I am tired of it all, as though I`d just found it out for the first time. I HAVE found it out. When a man is tired of life, I suppose it is time for him to die. I`ve lost heart, and death is over me. Death is close to me, and I know I have got to end. But think of all the hopes I had only a little time ago, the sense of fine beginnings!... It was all a sham. There were no beginnings.... We`re just ants in ant-hill cities, in a world that doesn`t matter; that goes on and rambles into nothingness. New York--New York doesn`t even strike me as horrible. New York was nothing but an ant-hill kicked to pieces by a fool!
"Think of it, Smallways: there`s war everywhere! They`re smashing up their civilisation before they have made it. The sort of thing the English did at Alexandria, the Japanese at Port Arthur, the French at Casablanca, is going on everywhere. Everywhere! Down in South America even they are fighting among themselves! No place is safe--no place is at peace. There is no place where a woman and her daughter can hide and be at peace. The war comes through the air, bombs drop in the night. Quiet people go out in the morning, and see air-fleets passing overhead--dripping death--dripping death!"
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