The War in the Air – Day 91 of 115

“Look at the mischief you done! Look at the way you smashed up New York–the people you killed, the stuff you wasted. Can’t you learn?”

“Dummer Kerl!” said the bird-faced man suddenly in a tone of concentrated malignancy, glaring under his bandages. “Esel!”

“That’s German for silly ass!–I know. But who’s the silly ass– ’im or me? When I was a kid, I used to read penny dreadfuls about ’avin adventures and bein’ a great c’mander and all that rot. I stowed it. But what’s ’e got in ’is head? Rot about Napoleon, rot about Alexander, rot about ’is blessed family and ’im and Gord and David and all that. Any one who wasn’t a dressed-up silly fool of a Prince could ’ave told all this was goin’ to ’appen. There was us in Europe all at sixes and sevens with our silly flags and our silly newspapers raggin’ us up against each other and keepin’ us apart, and there was China, solid as a cheese, with millions and millions of men only wantin’ a bit of science and a bit of enterprise to be as good as all of us. You thought they couldn’t get at you. And then they got flying-machines. And bif!–’ere we are. Why, when they didn’t go on making guns and armies in China, we went and poked ’em up until they did. They ’ad to give us this lickin’ they’ve give us. We wouldn’t be happy until they did, and as I say, ’ere we are!”

The bird-faced officer shouted to him to be quiet, and then began a conversation with the Prince.

“British citizen,” said Bert. “You ain’t obliged to listen, but I ain’t obliged to shut up.”

And for some time he continued his dissertation upon Imperialism, militarism, and international politics. But their talking put him out, and for a time he was certainly merely repeating abusive terms, “prancin’ nincompoops” and the like, old terms and new. Then suddenly he remembered his essential grievance. “’Owever, look ’ere–’ere!–the thing I started this talk about is where’s that food there was in that shed? That’s what I want to know. Where you put it?”

He paused. They went on talking in German. He repeated his question. They disregarded him. He asked a third time in a manner insupportably aggressive.

There fell a tense silence. For some seconds the three regarded one another. The Prince eyed Bert steadfastly, and Bert quailed under his eye. Slowly the Prince rose to his feet and the bird-faced officer jerked up beside him. Bert remained squatting.

“Be quaiat,” said the Prince.

Bert perceived this was no moment for eloquence.

The two Germans regarded him as he crouched there. Death for a moment seemed near.

Then the Prince turned away and the two of them went towards the flying-machine.

“Gaw!” whispered Bert, and then uttered under his breath one single word of abuse. He sat crouched together for perhaps three minutes, then he sprang to his feet and went off towards the Chinese aeronaut’s gun hidden among the weeds.

There was no pretence after that moment that Bert was under the orders of the Prince or that he was going on with the repairing of the flying-machine. The two Germans took possession of that and set to work upon it. Bert, with his new weapon went off to the neighbourhood of Terrapin Rock, and there sat down to examine it. It was a short rifle with a big cartridge, and a nearly full magazine. He took out the cartridges carefully and then tried the trigger and fittings until he felt sure he had the use of it. He reloaded carefully. Then he remembered he was hungry and went off, gun under his arm, to hunt in and about the refreshment shed. He had the sense to perceive that he must not show himself with the gun to the Prince and his companion. So long as they thought him unarmed they would leave him alone, but there was no knowing what the Napoleonic person might do if he saw Bert’s weapon. Also he did not go near them because he knew that within himself boiled a reservoir of rage and fear that he wanted to shoot these two men. He wanted to shoot them, and he thought that to shoot them would be a quite horrible thing to do. The two sides of his inconsistent civilisation warred within him.

Near the shed the kitten turned up again, obviously keen for milk. This greatly enhanced his own angry sense of hunger. He began to talk as he hunted about, and presently stood still, shouting insults. He talked of war and pride and Imperialism. “Any other Prince but you would have died with his men and his ship!” he cried.

The two Germans at the machine heard his voice going ever and again amidst the clamour of the waters. Their eyes met and they smiled slightly.

He was disposed for a time to sit in the refreshment shed waiting for them, but then it occurred to him that so he might get them both at close quarters. He strolled off presently to the point of Luna Island to think the situation out.

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