party of four. The Gobernador, sitting between Janet and Barbara Dasent, was in good spirits and looked appreciatively at the soft harmony of colours. Some sunset gleam had caught the water and the reflection of it brought a delicate glow into the room. Even Barbara’s paleness was rosy.
They talked of many things—of Europe, of politics, of books, of the future of mankind (these were some chaotic speculations of Archie, who seemed to be nervous and had the air of a lower boy breakfasting with the headmaster), of England a little, and much of America. The Gobernador was the soul of courtesy, and was accustomed to respect the prejudices of others. But Barbara was in a mood of candour about her countrymen and she occasionally forced him into a polite agreement. Something had happened to Barbara, for she talked fast and brilliantly, and her eye had an unaccustomed vivacity.
“We are overrun with silly women,” she said. “The United States is a woman’s country, Excellency, and we let them paint the picture which we show to the world. I do not think it is an attractive picture—a mixture of shallow-schwarmerei and comfortless luxury—a life of plumbing, and dentistry, and bi-focal glasses, and facial and mental uplift, and snobbery about mushroom families, and a hard, brittle sweetness stuck on with pins. No wonder you do not like us!”
“I did not say that, Miss Dasent. I am not sure that assent to any of your complaints, except the schwarmerei; and that I think is not confined to your ladies.”
“I was making a catalogue of the details of the picture we present to the world. It is an ugly picture, and I know you hate it. So do I… All the same it is a false picture, for we are the worst publicity agents on earth. The trouble is that we have had no second Columbus. Nobody from outside has ever discovered the true America.”
The Gobernador dissented.
“You are hard on yourselves. If I want acrid criticism of the United States, I pick up an American novel. Or I take the saying of one of your own Presidents that the modern American millionaire has usually a daughter who is a foreign princess and a son who is in a lunatic asylum. I do not take that sort of thing at its face value. You are a great people which has not yet found itself.”
“You do not like us.”
“As a student of humanity I am deeply interested in you.”
“You are tolerant, because you do not like America. I an intolerant because I love it.”
The Gobernador raised his glass and bowed. “A very honourable confession of faith. If all her daughters were you, Miss Dasent, it would be right that America should remain a woman’s country.”
The talk drifted to lighter matters—to music, which Barbara and the Gobernador discussed with a technical profundity appalling to Archie; to a German novel which had set the world talking; to European personalities in art and politics. Presently they left the dining-room, and ascended to a shelter on the upper deck from which the harbour was seen like a gulf of blackness rimmed by fiery particles. The Gobernador, who noticed everything, observed that the patrol boat was no longer there and that the Corinna swam alone in an inky solitude. He saw no signs of his bodyguard; no doubt, he decided, they were ensconced in the shadows beyond, where the lifeboats swung from their davits.
But the three trusties were not there. They had spent a turbulent evening, and were now in a less comfortable state than their master. They had insisted on having their meal in close proximity to the dining-room, and the surly Scotch engineer had shared it with them. Between them these convivial souls had consumed a good deal of liquor, which appeared to go rapidly to the heads of the visitors, The engineer had then proposed an adjournment to his own quarters for further refreshment, and had shepherded them down a narrow alley-way, he himself going last. There was a heavy iron door, and as each of the three passed through it, on the other side he was caught round the middle by powerful arms which prevented him getting at his hip-pocket. Other hands swiftly gagged him, and still others removed his gun. The thing was done in almost complete silence. Only one of the three managed to put up a fight, and he was promptly laid low by a terrific upper-cut from a seaman who had once been known as Battling Hubby, the pride of Jersey City. In something under three minutes the three heroes were gagged and trussed, and reposing, in a somewhat unreposeful state of mind, on a pile of awnings.
“That’s a tidy bit of work, Geordie,” the pugilistic sea-man observed to the morose engineer, and the answer was, “I’ve seen war.”
Then the engineer did a curious thing. He went aft, and with a lantern signalled to the patrol boat which lay a quarter of a mile off. The signal was observed, and presently the boat moved quietly away, leaving the Corinna solitary in the outer basin.
Coffee was served to the party on the upper deck, and the guest filled his ancient briar. The steward, as he left, gave a message to Archie: “Hamilton’s compliments, sir, and the men has finished the job forward “—at which Archie nodded. He was sitting in an alcove, with a small electric bell behind his arm. The Gobernador sat in a wicker chair, with a lamp on his left side, so that, by the configuration of the deck, his splendid head was silhouetted against the opaque velvet of the harbour waters. Janet and Barbara on lower chairs were sitting literally at his feet. The guest seemed to have fallen under the spell of the light which was drawing round them as close as a mantle.
The shore lights did not speak of human habitation; rather they seemed as remote as a star, an extension of the infinite stellar system which faintly patterned the darkness. The stillness, the brooding canopy of the night, silenced the others, but with the Gobernador it acted as a stimulus to talk. He seemed to sit above them like an impersonal mind, his profile growing clearer as the light went out of the background of the sea.
“You are a soldier?” he asked Archie.
“I was. Keen, but undistinguished. The Air Force isn’t a place for high strategy. But I’ve always lived among soldiers and heard their chat.”
“It has been a great profession, but it is closed now, Sir Archibald. Science has reduced war to an everlasting stalemate. It was always on the edge of stalemate. Consider the few moves any general had to his hand. He could break a line or he could outflank it, and he could do either only by superior force or by surprise. But science has now created a norm of weapon and munitionment, which is substantially the same for all armies. It has eliminated the human factor of superiority both in general and troops. It established, too, a norm of intelligence which makes surprise impossible. Therefore there is no room to-day for military Napoleon. The Napoleon of the future must win by other methods than war. Do you agree?”
“No,” said Archie; “I respectfully disagree. I can’t argue properly, but I know what I think. First, I don’t believe you can ever get rid of the human factor. Science has to be applied by mortal men, and the efficiency of its application will depend upon those who use it. You can never create what you call a norm either of character or of brains. Second, I agree that the old rules of war are a back number. A modern army can conquer savages, but in the old style of warfare it can’t conquer another model army. But I believe that one modern nation can still conquer another. You need a wider definition of war, sir. It’s far more than marching and counter-marching, and frontal and flank attacks, and number of men and weight of guns and speed of transport. It’s the effort of one people to smash the morale of another, and there are a thousand ways doing that.”
“I assent. But not in the field.”
“Yes, in the field. We’ve been frozen into convention for two thousand years. The autumn of 1918 saw the end of that regime. Now mankind is going to discover new ways of exercising superiority—in the field, but not by old field tactics. Conquest is always a spiritual conquest, and means will be found for making spirit act directly upon spirit.”
“You
