something to eat, and I should like to explain that on our side in the
war is the right. The Fatters have behaved like savages. They have
burned cities, murdered old men and children, raped women and committed
every outrage.”
“I have seen something of warfare myself,” said Siebenhaar. “It is
a bestial occupation. When a man has become accustomed to slaughter
by license, what is there to make him stop at minor offences such as
theft, rape, and wounding? Soldiers who are unchaste in peace do not
become chaste when war is declared. In a friendly country the women
consent. In a hostile country some of them protest, generally because
they are panic-stricken and in terror of worse happening to them.”
“This war,” said the Rear-Admiral, “is holy.”
“I am a Fatter,” replied Siebenhaar, “and the Fatters have been taught
for generations that all war is holy and sanctifies all that is done in
its name.”
“We,” said the Fattishman, “fight like gentlemen.”
“And,” retorted the philosopher, “like gentlemen you burn and rape and
pillage.”
“Your conversation,” said Ultimus, “has interested me extremely. I am
filled with a burning desire to see civilisation, war, soldiers, and,
above all, women. We will go to the centre of civilisation, and if I do
not like it I shall blow it in pieces.”
“Two can play at that game,” said Bich. “We have explosives too.”
For answer, Ultimus reached out and pressed two wires together. There
was a rumble, a crash, a thud, and hundreds of tons of rock were torn
away from the side of the mountain and hurled into the air to fall,
miles away, into the sea.
IV: WAR AND WOMEN
As a sailor, Charles Bich, though middle-aged, liked nothing better
than to talk about women. He was sentimental about them, but at the
same time sensually appreciative of their beauty. To such an extent did
he inflame the young man’s imagination that Siebenhaar had to protest.
“It is a shame,” he cried, “that the son of such a father should be
polluted with the obsessions of civilised men.”
With the air of leaving no more to be said, Ultimus remarked:
“I like them.”
“So do all unintelligent men,” replied Siebenhaar, “and they are driven
mad by them and hope against hope for the day when all restraint will
be removed. This is another potent factor in the production of war.
Women are not to the same degree subject to these terrible obsessions,
but they do regret their limited opportunities in the organised society
of peace. Further, in times of war they like to think that men are
fighting for them, and they love to be regaled with stories of violence
and outrage, especially those who have been entirely chaste, and have
no hope of anything else.”
The Rear-Admiral blushed.
“When we fight,” he said, “we fight for our country, our King, our
Empire, for the all-red map of the world.”
“These,” replied Siebenhaar, “are words. Country, King, Empire, are
protective ideas. What you love and what you defend is your mode of
living, which you have adopted partly because you have a prejudice in
favour of it, partly because you like it better than any other you
can conceive. Your living consists in eating, drinking, consorting
with women, and rearing any family you may produce. Everything else
is introduced merely to disguise any unpleasantness there may be in
the exercise of those functions. For the most part they are lies,
illusions, hallucinations, obsessions, which you find convenient to
cloak your unimportance. As a naval officer you justify the absurd
occupation by which you procure your livelihood. My young friend here
is under no such painful necessity and I wish him to be spared all
mental confusion.”
“Personally,” interrupted Ultimus, “I do not wish to be influenced by
either of you. You, sir,” addressing Siebenhaar, “have given me all
the knowledge and wisdom you have stored up in your adventurous life,
and you, sir, have out of your life of duty, given me a new interest
in the two things, war and women, which have hitherto been denied me.
I am much obliged to you, and, if you don’t mind we will continue the
erection of the wireless installation we began yesterday, because I am
anxious to establish communication with the world as soon as possible.”
Ultimus and Bich retired to the top of the mountain leaving Siebenhaar
sadly tracing on the sands a rough caricature of a woman. So horrible
was it to him that he could not finish it and obliterated it with his
foot.
V: WIRELESS
Every day brought messages from the world. The Fattish had made
a glorious retreat of sixty miles. The Waltzians were offering a
glorious resistance to the Grossians. With the help of God the Fatters
had gloriously evacuated their trenches on the west, and heroically
withdrawn from a river on the east. With assistance from above the
Fattish navy had swept the Fatter flag from the seven seas. The
Bilgians had been nobly extinguished, though their flag was still
flying and their King ruled over a flooded country. Hundreds of
thousands of men were killed, wounded, and lost. From country to
country General congratulated General, Admirals sent their applause to
Field-Marshals, Statesmen exchanged bravos, and monarchs thanked each
other and God for timely assistance.
Rear-Admiral Bich said: “Isn’t it glorious--glorious?”
“At present,” replied Ultimus, “I am so confused that I can make
nothing of it. Why are they all so pleased with themselves? Do they
like to think of thousands of men dying?”
“They have died for their country. They are heroes.”
“I don’t see that. I cannot imagine myself going out of my way to die
for my island, and Fatland is also an island.”
“Ah!” said the Rear-Admiral. “But there are no women on your island, no
little ones, no homes.”
“There is Siebenhaar who has been father and mother to me, master and
instructor.”
“Well! Suppose you saw men designing to murder Siebenhaar, would you
not raise a hand to defend him?”
“Not if I saw there was not the remotest chance of saving him. But that
is nonsense. No one would want to murder Siebenhaar.”
“I don’t know about that. There are times when he is so exasperating
that I hardly dare answer for myself.”
“That is absurd,” replied Ultimus. “You know that I should destroy you
at once if you did anything to Siebenhaar. The case might be different
if you were in such a position that there would be consequences. But
why deal with hypothesis when you are confronted with facts?”
The simple sailor was no hand at an argument, and just at that moment
there came the news of the loss of a Fattish fleet after an encounter
with the Fatters, with an account of the heroic death of the Commander,
Rear-Admiral Sir Charles Bich.
Unfortunately the island was not yet in a position to transmit messages
and the unhappy Bich had to rest inactive, crushed with the burden of
the news of his own death and his inability to contradict it.
“You see,” said Ultimus, “you _have_ died for your country, you are a
hero, and you do not like it at all.”
VI: BICH IS OBSTINATE
The point was argued for many days. Bich would not withdraw from his
assertion that it was glorious to die for his country, but at the same
time he could not disguise his distress at having done so.
“If I had died,” he said, “it would have been glorious.”
“Only in the eyes of your countrymen,” said Siebenhaar. “You already
have that, and if you had died you would not have known anything about
it.”
“There is a heaven above,” cried Bich.
“Which you could never have entered. Has not Heaven enjoined you not to
kill and not to resist evil?”
“In the service of my country!”
“What does heaven know of your country? Heaven is eternal. Its laws are
for eternity. Your country, your Empire are mere temporary arrangements
for the convenience of a few millions of men and women who wish to
profit by the labours of people less fortunate than themselves. You are
therefore contending that it is glorious to die for a man’s material
advantage, or, in other words, for political and financial vested
interests.”
“I am prepared at any moment to die for my country.”
“You _have_ died.”
“I have not.”
“You have died and been given the glory attaching to such death.”
“That is what I cannot bear.”
“Then,” said Ultimus, “I will give you a root which will procure you
a perfectly painless death. I see that you do not mind dying for your
country so long as you do not know about it.”
“And that,” put in Siebenhaar, “is where he is consistent. He is like
all the men of his time and condition; he does not mind living, in
fact he quite likes it, so long as he knows nothing about it and is
not called upon to realise what he is doing. When he is faced with the
consequences of such insensibility he is so appalled that he welcomes
the idea of death, if he can find some excuse for it. Therefore he
has invented a myth called his country and proposes to die for that.
According to his prejudices it is cowardly to draw a fire-arm upon
himself, but it is right and brave to place himself in the line of
some one else’s fire. Such a condition of imbecility is extremely
infectious. It sweeps through crowds of men like a disease through
cattle. But, as men are indomitably hopeful, they do not destroy each
other, as you, Ultimus, might suppose. No, they wait until they can
discover another crowd of men in the same lamentable condition, and
fall upon them in the hope of a victory which shall restore their
self-conceit and once more blind them to the appalling consequences of
their own ill-doing. And here, at last, we do touch upon one of the
prime causes of war. Superficially it looks as though the immediate
cause was this, that the governors of States make such a mess of the
affairs with which they are entrusted and reduce their people to so
lamentable a condition that they must seek war as an outlet, and to
give the male populace as soldiers the food which they have made it
impossible for them to earn as workers. There is also the consideration
that a large proportion of the male populace will be removed from all
possibility of making trouble. That is an interesting but a superficial
view which attaches more blame to the rich than they deserve. No. A
more profound analysis gives us the result I have previously indicated,
that wars are invariably due to moral epidemics. And, since the human
race will always be subject to them, there will always be war.”
Ultimus had withdrawn at the beginning of the discussion. Having no
knowledge of men in herds, he could not follow the line of Siebenhaar’s
argument. He returned now to say that he had obliterated another
battle. On this the Rear-Admiral was excited and wished to know what
ships he had seen and what flag they were flying.
“I do not know,” replied Ultimus, “but there were nine ships attacking
three and that struck me as so unfair that I decided to make an end of
it.”
“But they may have been Fattish ships! Have you no regard for human
life?”
Said Ultimus:
“There was no sign of anything human. They looked like flies on the
water. When I see three scorpions attacking a smaller insect I always
kill the scorpions for their cowardice and the insect for having called
down their anger upon itself.”
Rear-Admiral Bich drew himself up to his full height and said:
“As a Christian I protest. As an officer and a gentleman I must ask you
to put me ashore at the first opportunity. They may be Fattish ships
which you have destroyed. My King and country need me.”
“Come, come,” interposed Siebenhaar, “your King and country are
probably doing very well without you. They have an immense geographical
advantage which only the blind jealousy of the Fatters makes it
impossible for them to admit. You are already a hero; poems have in
all probability been written to your memory. You had better stay with
us. It will be much more amusing to see what effect Ultimus has on
civilisation than to plunge back into the fever which has seized it.”
The Rear-Admiral looked scornful and very proud and said:
“Herr Siebenhaar, on our previous acquaintance only the protection
of the late heroic Mr. Samways prevented me from denouncing you as a
Fatter spy. I have not forgotten.”
“What,” asked Ultimus, “is a spy?”
“Spies,” replied Siebenhaar, “are corrupt and useless people who are
sent out to frighten a hostile nation by making them think that the
enemy knows more about them than they do themselves. They are only used
when the desire for war is very strong. They exercise a paralysing
effect upon the civil population and deliver them up to the guidance of
their own military authorities. They are like microbes which carry the
war fever from one country to another. I regret that Sir Charles should
have so small an opinion of my intelligence as to think that my country
would make so trivial a use of me.”
“I can’t stand all this talk,” muttered the Rear-Admiral, and he went
away and all night long paced up and down the sands on the other side
of the island, imagining that he was once more serving his King and
country on his own quarter-deck.
VII: PLANS
In secret the indomitable servant of his country made himself a boat,
a coracle of palm branches and mud, and when, a week later, they came
in sight of land and Ultimus put in close to have a good look at it and
the little white city built by the mouth of a river, he put off in it
without so much as saying good-bye or thank you for the hospitality he
had received.
“He will come back,” said Siebenhaar; “he will come and try to annex
the island. No Fattish officer can resist an island and the Fattish
have been known to waste thousands of lives in order to add a bare rock
or a pestilential swamp to their Empire. It is an amiable lunacy which
my unhappy race, who cannot appreciate their geographical disadvantage,
are trying to emulate. What is the news of the war to-day?”
“The official reports all agree in saying that there is no further
development. Every capable man in every country is now bearing arms.
All other activity is at a standstill. Stern measures have had to be
taken by the various governments to stop the emigration of pregnant
women to the peaceful countries on the other side of the world.”
“Ah!” said Siebenhaar, “I thought that would happen, I thought the
women would revolt as soon as war ceased to be an excitement and
became a trade.”
“Some of the Governments,” added Ultimus, “are paying women over
forty-five years of age to go.”
Siebenhaar chuckled.
“It is time we interfered, Ultimus. When they lose their sense of
humour so far as that, it is time for action. We will go to Fatland.
Where are we now?”
“Off the coast of Africa.”
“We will lie out to sea until we have prepared the island against all
dangers. First of all we will blow up the harbour. Then we will mine
the shores all round. We will prepare the rocks on the tops of the
mountains for missiles and we will lay in a great stock of your new
transmissible explosive. We will then block the mouth of the great
Fattish river, and we shall see what we shall see. An intelligent use
of explosives should be able to counteract and if necessary to crush
the fatuous use of them that is now being made. We will try persuasion,
threats, and violence in that order to stop the war, and if then we
cannot succeed we will abandon the human race altogether and return to
our own Southern Seas.”
“You forget,” expostulated Ultimus, “that I was drawn here out of
curiosity as to something else besides the war, and that is, woman.”
“A man,” said Siebenhaar, “bears a grudge against woman for his birth;
he is a fool to burden himself with others against her.”
“As I imagine them,” replied the young man wistfully, “they are
beautiful.”
“Lord, Lord,” cried Siebenhaar, “if only a young man would be content
with his imaginings.”
VIII: IN FATTISH WATERS
The island moved proudly up the Fattish channel, until they came within
sight of the land on either side of it. Here was drawn up a great array
of ships like those which had been destroyed in the Southern Seas. On
the foremost of the ships were hoisted a number of little flags which
Siebenhaar interpreted as saying:
“Good morning. Welcome home.”
Now, the fragmentary message recorded by the wireless gave the clue to
the purport of this signal. There had been a great rally of the Fattish
Empire, one colony had sent sacks of flour, another black currants,
another black men, another brown sugar; all came to the aid of the
motherland in her need, all forgot their grievances and vowed that they
never would be slaves. In the face of such a demonstration no doubt as
to whether the Fattish empire really existed could survive. Men who
would not admit black, brown, or yellow men to their clubs welcomed
them to their trenches. Such unity, such loyalty, such brotherhood,
must lead to victory. But victory was slow in coming and it was
becoming difficult to maintain interest in the war, when, suddenly,
there burst upon the Fattish public the news that the lost island was
responding to the call and even now coming to place its unique powers
of motion at the service of the Emperor-King. The miraculous had
happened. Once more it was obvious that the right was on the Fattish
side. Once more the streets of Bondon were thronged as on the eve of
the declaration of war. The map of the world with the red blot made
by George Samways was taken down and copies of it were sold for the
Imperial relief fund. It was supposed that George Samways, the only
hero of the last war, was on the island and had induced it to return to
the fold. His downfall was forgotten, his heroism remembered.
Ultimus stopped the island and entered into communication by wireless
with the Fattish fleet.
“Is that Samways Island?”
“Yes.”
“Is George Samways aboard?”
“No. His son and his friend, Siebenhaar.”
“What nationality is Siebenhaar?”
“Fatter.”
“He must be taken prisoner.”
“Nonsense. He is an ex-engineer, now a philosopher.”
“Fatter philosophers are writing the most scurrilous abuse of the
Fattish.”
“Siebenhaar has been for the last twenty years on the island.”
“Tell him to change his name before landing, or he will have to
register.”
“We have no intention of landing.”
“We did not get your last message correctly.”
“We have no intention of landing.”
“Don’t understand. May we send a deputation?”
Ultimus replied:
“I will receive one Cabinet Minister and the most beautiful woman in
Fatland. I shall be in the mouth of the river by two o’clock. You
had better move your ships and be very careful of the backwash. I
understand that the shores of the channel are strewn with wrecks.”
Frantic messages then passed between the ships and the Admiralty in
Bondon. It would be extremely awkward to have the island in the river,
blocking the channels to the port, but the public were thinking of
nothing but the island, and, in default of George Samways, were quite
prepared to take his son to be their darling. There must not be a
hint anywhere of the possibility of the island’s being, after all,
disloyal. The Fattish had been very reticent about their relations with
God, whereas the Fatters had claimed him as their ally. The Fattish
had been favored with miracles, even as the Children of Israel. It was
decided to retain the miracle in the face of all risks and Mr. Samways
was promised that a Cabinet Minister accompanied by the most beautiful
woman in Fatland should call at four o’clock on the following day.
The fleet turned and steamed away out of sight.
IX: AN AFTERNOON CALL
The acknowledged most beautiful woman in Fatland was none other than
Arabella’s sister. She was fifty-three, but had managed to preserve
her reputation by the discreet publication of her connection with
illustrious men. She had one rival for the honour of the visit to the
island, a lovely creature, a brilliant singer of popular ballads, who,
during the crisis, had carried all before her and swept hundreds of
young men into the army with her famous ditty: “Won’t I kiss you when
you come back home?” However, her claims were disposed of by Arabella’s
sister astutely pointing out that she was the aunt of the young man
on the island, and therefore, if necessary, could be alone with him in
perfect propriety.
In a motor launch she came out with the Lord High Chief of the
Admiralty in full-dress uniform.
No sooner did she set eyes on Ultimus than she burst into tears and
cried that he was the living image of Arabella. She kissed him and he
drew back outraged and cried:
“Don’t do that again.”
Siebenhaar explained:
“Your nephew, madam, has never seen a woman before and is naturally
alarmed. Your voice must sound strangely to his ears and your costume,
if you will forgive me, leaves room for considerable doubt as to the
normality of your anatomy. I think it would be as well if you made no
attempt to reassure him, but allowed him to look at you and to grow
accustomed to you while I engage your companion in conversation.”
With that he turned to the Lord High Chief and said:
“You can imagine that I am astounded to return after a long absence to
find civilisation plunged once more in the barbarism of war. Surely no
single one of the combatants has anything to gain by it.”
“The war, sir, was not of our seeking.”
“But you were prepared for it?”
“By God we were. I had seen to that.”
“Then you were prepared to join issue in any quarrel that might be
sought?”
“We pledged our word to the Grossians and the Bilgians. Besides,
sir, apart from all that, the Fatters are jealous of our Empire, and
they have deliberately plotted for years to oust us commercially and
politically. They want us wiped off the map. But when it comes to
wiping----”
“Does it ever come to that?” asked Siebenhaar. “Is Athens dead while
Plato lives? Is Rome forgotten while Virgil and Lucretius live in the
minds of men? Was there ever more in Spain than lives in Cervantes?”
“I don’t know about that,” said the Lord High Chief; “but the Fatters
want to dominate the world.”
“So did Alexander: so did Napoleon: but they wrought their own ruin.”
“This is too deep for me,” replied the politician. “I want something
that the newspapers can get hold of. I want to know what you are up
to, how you found the island, how it came to move again, and, if it
isn’t a miracle of loyalty, what is it? Also I want to know what your
intentions are, because if you are not here to support us we shall have
to place you both under arrest,--er--that is, after you have moved the
island out of harm’s way.”
Ultimus took Siebenhaar aside and said: “I want to go away. I have
been looking at the woman, and I think she is horrible.”
X: THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN
The Lord High Chief towards the end of the interview adopted a
peremptory tone and ordered the island to be taken through the enemy’s
minefield and then to blockade the enemy’s fleet. The island was to
be called H.M.S. Samways, to be manned with the crew of a first-class
battleship and commanded by a senior admiral. Ultimus refused
point-blank. He owed nothing to Fatland, and was not going to have
his island or his inventions used in a cause which he as yet did not
understand. The Lord High Chief stormed and blustered until Siebenhaar
told him the truth about Bich’s battle and the nature of the invention
of which Ultimus had spoken. The Lord High Chief went pale and muttered
that he should have thought his country’s cause good enough for any
man. However, since they were so obstinate, he invited the islanders
ashore and undertook to satisfy their curiosity with regard to the war,
or the events which immediately preceded it. Arabella’s sister proposed
that they should stay in her house, but her invitation was refused.
No sooner had the visitors put off in the launch than Ultimus moved the
island further up the river until all channels were blocked and no ship
could get either in or out.
“Now,” said Ultimus, “they will treat me with respect, and will not
rest content until they have satisfied me and persuaded me to move the
island once more.”
The effect he desired was produced. They were taken up to Bondon in one
of the Royal motor-cars, and a whole floor in one of the most expensive
hotels was placed at their disposal. For the first time in his life
Ultimus slept in a bed and was so hot that he could not bear it. He
rang the bell in the middle of the night and a little chambermaid
appeared.
“Take that thing away,” said Ultimus.
The little chambermaid stared at him.