The Land Leviathan (A Nomad of the Time Streams Novel) (16 page)

L
ooking back, I suppose I should count myself fortunate in being, by a strange set of circumstances, witness to Hood’s decision to risk everything he had gained by invading America, and to experience the invasion (and its aftermath) itself. Not many young officers are given such an opportunity.

My determination to take the law into my own hands if I judged Hood “guilty” remained as strong, but I was already beginning to realize that the Black Attila was a far subtler individual than I had at first supposed. Moreover, I soon came to learn that his ferocity, his reputation for putting to death or enslaving whole cities, was something of a myth which he encouraged. It was useful to him if his enemies believed the myth, for it quite often resulted in all but bloodless conquests! The defenders would prefer to parley rather than fight, and would often ask for terms quite inferior to those Hood was prepared to grant! This meant that, when he proposed terms which were better than they had expected, he gained the reputation of munificence which was quite undeserved, but encouraged the conquered to work willingly for him—out of a sense of relief as much as any other consideration!

I saw little of Hood or Una Persson in the following week. They were far too involved in their plans for mobilization. We of the diplomatic mission could only gather what information was available and relay it to Bantustan. We were allowed, in the first days, to communicate information of all kinds freely to our own country, but a little later a certain censorship was imposed as General Hood became nervous of news reaching Tokyo. I think he had heard that the A.J.F. fleet was making for the Atlantic. The largest part of the Ashanti fleet had been based in Europe, where it was most useful, and some ships had to be recalled, while others were ordered to assemble in Hamburg, Copenhagen, Gothenburg and other Northern European ports, preparatory to sailing for America.

I gathered that Hood was not merely relying on his vast land, air and sea fleets, but had another counter to play. From something Una Persson had said, I thought her trip to England had played a part in Hood’s ‘secret weapon’ being developed, but I was to learn more of this later.

My next surprise came a day or two before Hood was due to sail. Una Persson visited me at the legation, where I was busy with some sort of meaningless paperwork. She apologized for disturbing me and said that General Hood would like to see me for a few moments during luncheon.

I went unwillingly. Privately I was sure that the powerful Australasian-Japanese Federation would put a stop to his dreams of conquest for ever and that I no longer had a part to play in the history of this world. I was looking forward to returning to Bantustan when the Ashanti Empire collapsed, as it was bound to do.

Hood had almost finished luncheon when I arrived at the palace. He was sitting at the head of a long table surrounded by his chief ministers and generals. There were charts spread among the remains of a simple meal and black faces were bent over them, conversing in low, urgent tones. All looked up as I arrived, and several frowned, making insulting remarks about their meal being spoiled by the sight of a white man. I had become quite used to this sort of thing from Hood’s lieutenants (though, to be fair, not all were so ill-mannered) and was able to ignore the comments, saying: “You sent for me, general?”

Hood seemed surprised to see me. He looked vaguely at me for a moment and then snapped his fingers as if remembering why he had sent for me. “Ah, yes, Mr. Bastable. Just to tell you to have a bag packed by tomorrow morning and to present yourself to the captain of the
Dingiswayo.
He is expecting you. I’ve exchanged communications with President Gandhi and he is agreeable to the scheme. You have been seconded to my staff. You’re coming with us to America, Mr. Bastable. Congratulations.”

There was nothing I could say. I tried to think of some retort, failed, and saluted. “Very well, sir.” Whether there was some deeper motive involved, or whether this was just another example of Hood’s quixotic and whimsical behaviour where my fate was concerned I did not know. It seems that by taking my initial decision I was now bound to follow it through all the way.

And that was how I came to be the only white officer to accompany the sea-borne Black Horde when it sailed out over the Atlantic bound for New York with the express intention of destroying for ever the power of the Caucasian race!

My life has been full of ironies since my first, ill-fated expedition to Teku Benga, but I think that that remains the greatest irony of them all.

Hood had thrown virtually everything he had into the invasion fleet. Surface and underwater vessels, airships of every description, came together at last just off the coast of Iceland—a fleet which filled the sky and occupied the ocean for as far as the eye could see. Aboard the ships were stored Hood’s vast collection of land ironclads and in the centre of all these there rose a gigantic hull, specially built but utterly mysterious in its purpose, which could not progress under its own power but which had to be towed by thirty other battleships. I guessed that this must surely be Hood’s secret weapon, but neither I nor any of the other officers aboard the
Dingiswayo
had any inkling of its nature!

And all the while news was coming through of the Australasian-Japanese fleet converging on our own.

Hood’s hope was that we could run ahead of the A.J.F. fleet and get to the coast of North America before it caught up with us, but these new ships of O’Bean’s were much faster than ours (their fire-power was a completely unknown factor) and I knew that we had no chance. There was a school of thought which said that we should disperse our own fleet, but Hood was against this, feeling that we had a better chance if we concentrated our forces. Also, as was evident, he was prepared to risk almost everything to protect the vast hull we towed (or, at least, the contents of the hull) and I had the impression that he might consider sacrificing everything else so long as that hull arrived eventually in New York.

There was scarcely a ship in the fleet which would not have dwarfed one of the ironclads of my own day. Equipped with long-snouted naval guns which could put a stream of incredibly powerful shells into the air in the time it took one of my world’s ships to fire a single shot, capable of cruising at speeds reaching ninety knots, of manoeuvring with the speed and ease of the lightest cruiser, a couple of them could have given our good old British navy a pretty grim time. Hood had a hundred of these alone in his fleet, as well as over fifty underwater battleships and nearly seventy big aerial men-o’-war (which, in turn, were equipped with light fighting airboats capable of leaving the mother ship, striking rapidly at an enemy and returning to safety above the clouds). As well as this massive fighting strength, there were dozens of smaller vessels, many cargo ships, carrying land ’clads and infantry, gunboats and torpedo boats—virtually all the remaining fighting ships of the nations of the world which had taken part in the war.

If I had believed in the cause of the Ashanti Empire I am sure I would have felt a surge of pride when I looked upon the splendour of that fleet as it steamed away from Reykjavik in the early morning of 23rd December, 1907—a mass of black and scarlet upon the grey field of the wintry sea. Wisps of fog drifted from time to time across the scene and, standing on the quarterdeck of the
Dingiswayo
, listening to the sound of ships’ horns bellowing in the distance, I was overwhelmed with a sense of awe. How, I wondered, could anything in the world resist such might? And if there was a God, how could He allow it to have been created in the first place?

It seemed to me, at that moment, that I had been torn from my own world to witness a vision of Armageddon—and, oddly enough, I felt privileged!

I think that it was then that the notion first occurred to me that perhaps I had been selected by Providence to be involved in a countless series of what might be called alternative versions of the Apocalypse—that I was doomed to witness the end of the world over and over again and doomed, too, to search for a world where Man had learned to control the impulses which led to such suicidal conflicts, perhaps never to find it. I still do not quite understand my motives in recording my experiences, but it could be that I hope that, if they are ever read, they will serve as a lesson to a world which has so far managed to avert its own destruction.

But, as I have said before, I am neither introspective nor morbid by nature, and my thoughts soon returned to the more immediate aspects of my situation.

I
t was about 4 p.m. on Christmas Day, 1907, that the Australasian-Japanese fleet was sighted speeding rapidly from south-southwest out of the twilight, firing as it came.

Night had fallen by the time we properly engaged and the fighting was confused. The air was full of fire and noise. Above us the air fleets were locked in terrible conflict, while on every side huge guns poured forth destruction seemingly at random, and when, at sudden moments, there came a lull, when there was a second or two of silence and blackness, I experienced a cold and impossible fear, certain that it was all over, that the world itself had been destroyed and that the sun would never rise again.

By means of wireless telegraphy, Hood was able to direct the battle from the
Chaka,
which was riding somewhere above the clouds, and it became evident to me that he was building up a defensive position around the contents of that huge and mysterious hull at the centre of our fleet. The
Dingiswayo
, also close to the centre, was not therefore immediately engaged in battle, but impatiently awaited orders to have a crack at the enemy, firing occasionally, when so commanded, into the sky at one of the Australasian-Japanese airships, which would return our shots with bombs and concentrated cannon-fire, none of which happily scored a direct hit and all of which failed to pierce our superstrong steel armour.

At last we received an order to break formation and moved at full speed to a position on the starboard flank of the main Australasian-Japanese grouping, where our own ships were sustaining particularly heavy losses.

We seemed at first to be moving away from the main battle— away from the crimson and yellow flashes of the guns, the incessant booming, and into utter blackness. Then, suddenly, as if receiving warning of our presence, two battleships turned their searchlights on us. Powerful beams of white light struck us in the eyes and blinded us for the moment. I was still on the quarter- deck, with precious little to do, not being a regular officer of the ship. I heard the captain shouting from the bridge, saw our long guns begin to swing into position, felt the
Dingiswayo
roll as she turned at an acute angle, broadside to the enemy, giving me my first clear view of two long lines of battleships, some mere silhouettes in the darkness, and others speckled with reflected light from the gun-flashes to port. Then the air was full of the whine of shells, the chunky, throaty noise of those shells hitting the water ahead and astern of us, but never, thankfully, scoring on either our hull or superstructure. Then all our guns began to go off and the
Dingiswayo
shuddered from stem to stern so that I thought she might well shake herself to pieces. Our shells left the muzzles of the guns with a kind of high-pitched yell—almost an exultation—and the enemy ships were grouped so tightly together that we could not miss. The shells hit the battleships and exploded. Heavy smoke drifted back to us and we were all forced to don the special masks designed for the purpose of protecting our lungs in just such circumstances.

The air had been cold, the temperature well below zero, but now it began to heat up, becoming tropical, as far as we were concerned. We went about and sought the darkness again, knowing that we had been lucky and that we could not expect to take on a dozen or more battleships alone.

For a while the searchlights roamed across the sea, trying to pick us out, but we skulked just out of their range, using their own lights to try to get some idea of our best chance. A battleship had detached itself from the main formation and was rushing blindly towards us, apparently unaware of our presence in its path. It was a splendid opportunity for us. I heard the order given to release torpedoes but to hold off firing. There was a faint sound, like the striking of a bell, and the torpedoes sped silently towards their prey, darting from our tubes while the enemy ship remained unaware that she was under attack!

The torpedoes scored direct hits below the battleship’s waterline. She was holed in five places and was sinking even before she realized it. I heard a confused shouting from her decks, and her searchlights came on, but already she was keeling over and the lights slowly rose into the sky like the fingers of a clutching, imploring hand. She went down without having fired a single shot. For a little while I saw her electrics gleaming below the surface, winking out slowly as she sank, and then the water was black again, dotted with a few bits of wreckage and a handful of wailing sailors.

There was no time to pick up survivors, even if we had wished to (and the Ashanti did not believe in showing much mercy to defeated enemies). We had been sighted again and two battleships were rushing towards us at speeds which would have seemed incredible on land and which were, to me, all but impossible on sea! We were capable of not much more than half their speed, but again we were successful in finding covering darkness.

It seemed to me that we had moved quite a long way off from the main conflict. At least a mile away now, the sea and the sky seemed to be one vast mass of flame, lighting a wide area and revealing wreck upon wreck. The entire sea was filled with broken remains—both of ordinary battleships and fallen airships—while beneath this mass of torn metal and blazing oil and wood could sometimes be seen the dark shapes of the underwater boats, like so many gigantic killer whales, seeking out fresh prey.

Once I had a glimpse of two subaquatic destroyers locked in conflict several fathoms below, searchlights piercing the gloom, guns flashing in what was to me an eery silence. Then one of the boats wheeled and dived deeper and the other followed it, still firing. I saw something flicker down there and then suddenly the water above the scene gushed up like a monstrous geyser, flinging fragments of metal and corpses high into the air, and I knew it was all over for one of the vessels.