Ostrog
: When The Sleeper WakesGraham could now take a clearer view of his position. For a long time
yet he wandered, but after the talk of the old man his discovery of this
Ostrog was clear in his mind as the final inevitable decision. One
thing was evident, those who were at the headquarters of the revolt had
succeeded very admirably in suppressing the fact of his disappearance.
But every moment he expected to hear the report of his death or of his
recapture by the Council.
Presently a man stopped before him. "Have you heard?" he said.
"No!" said Graham starting.
"Near a dozand," said the man, "a dozand men!" and hurried on.
A number of men and a girl passed in the darkness, gesticulating and
shouting: "Capitulated! Given up!" "A dozand of men." "Two dozand of
men." "Ostrog, Hurrah! Ostrog, Hurrah!" These cries receded, became
indistinct.
Other shouting men followed. For a time his attention was absorbed
in the fragments of speech he heard. He had a doubt whether all were
speaking English. Scraps floated to him, scraps like Pigeon English,
like 'nigger' dialect, blurred and mangled distortions. He dared
accost no one with questions. The impression the people gave him jarred
altogether with his preconceptions of the struggle and confirmed the
old man's faith in Ostrog. It was only slowly he could bring himself
to believe that all these people were rejoicing at the defeat of the
Council, that the Council which had pursued him with such power and
vigour was after all the weaker of the two sides in conflict. And if
that was so, how did it affect him? Several times he hesitated on the
verge of fundamental questions. Once he turned and walked for a long
way after a little man of rotund inviting outline, but he was unable to
master confidence to address him.
It was only slowly that it came to him that he might ask for the
"wind-vane offices," whatever the "wind-vane offices" might be.
His first enquiry simply resulted in a direction to go on towards
Westminster. His second led to the discovery of a short cut in which
he was speedily lost. He was told to leave the ways to which he had
hitherto confined himself knowing no other means of transit--and
to plunge down one of the middle staircases into the blackness of a
crossway. Thereupon came some trivial adventures; chief of these an
ambiguous encounter with a gruff-voiced invisible creature speaking in
a strange dialect that seemed at first a strange tongue, a thick flow of
speech with the drifting corpses of English words therein, the dialect
of the latter-day vile. Then another voice drew near, a girl's voice
singing, "tralala tralala." She spoke to Graham, her English touched
with something of the same quality. She professed to have lost her
sister, she blundered needlessly into him he thought, caught hold of him
and laughed. But a word of vague remonstrance sent her into the unseen
again.
The sounds about him increased. Stumbling people passed him, speaking
excitedly. "They have surrendered!" "The Council! Surely not the
Council!" "They are saying so in the Ways." The passage seemed wider.
Suddenly the wall fell away. He was in a great space and people were
stirring remotely. He inquired his way of an indistinct figure. "Strike
straight across," said a woman's voice. He left his guiding wall, and in
a moment had stumbled against a little table on which were utensils of
glass. Graham's eyes, now attuned to darkness, made out a long vista
with pallid tables on either side. He went down this. At one or two of
the tables he heard a clang of glass and a sound of eating. There were
people then cool enough to dine, or daring enough to steal a meal
in spite of social convulsion and darkness. Far off and high up he
presently saw a pallid light of a semi-circular shape. As he approached
this, a black edge came up and hid it. He stumbled at steps and found
himself in a gallery. He heard a sobbing, and found two scared little
girls crouched by a railing. These children became silent at the near
sound of feet. He tried to console them, but they were very still until
he left them. Then as he receded he could hear them sobbing again.
Presently he found himself at the foot of a staircase and near a wide
opening. He saw a dim twilight above this and ascended out of the
blackness into a street of moving Ways again. Along this a disorderly
swarm of people marched shouting. They were singing snatches of the song
of the revolt, most of them out of tune. Here and there torches flared
creating brief hysterical shadows. He asked his way and was twice
puzzled by that same thick dialect. His third attempt won an answer
he could understand. He was two miles from the wind-vane offices in
Westminster, but the way was easy to follow.
When at last he did approach the district of the wind-vane offices it
seemed to him, from the cheering processions that came marching along
the Ways, from the tumult of rejoicing, and finally from the restoration
of the lighting of the city, that the overthrow of the Council must
already be accomplished. And still no news of his absence came to his
ears.
The re-illumination of the city came with startling abruptness. Suddenly
he stood blinking, all about him men halted dazzled, and the world was
incandescent. The light found him already upon the outskirts of the
excited crowds that choked the Ways near the wind-vane offices, and the
sense of visibility and exposure that came with it turned his colourless
intention of joining Ostrog to a keen anxiety.
For a time he was jostled, obstructed, and endangered by men hoarse and
weary with cheering his name, some of them bandaged and bloody in his
cause. The frontage of the wind-vane offices was illuminated by some
moving picture, but what it was he could not see, because in spite
of his strenuous attempts the density of the crowd prevented his
approaching it. From the fragments of speech he caught, he judged it
conveyed news of the fighting about the Council House. Ignorance and
indecision made him slow and ineffective in his movements. For a time he
could not conceive how he was to get within the unbroken facade of this
place. He made his way slowly into the midst of this mass of people,
until he realised that the descending staircase of the central Way led
to the interior of the buildings. This gave him a goal, but the crowding
in the central path was so dense that it was long before he could reach
it. And even then he encountered intricate obstruction, and had an hour
of vivid argument first in this guard room and then in that before he
could get a note taken to the one man of all men who was most eager
to see him. His story was laughed to scorn at one place, and wiser for
that, when at last he reached a second stairway he professed simply to
have news of extraordinary importance for Ostrog. What it was he would
not say. They sent his note reluctantly. For a long time he waited in
a little room at the foot of the lift shaft, and thither at last came
Lincoln, eager, apologetic, astonished. He stopped in the doorway
scrutinising Graham, then rushed forward effusively.
"Yes," he cried. "It is you. And you are not dead!"
Graham made a brief explanation.
"My brother is waiting," explained Lincoln. "He is alone in the
wind-vane offices. We feared you had been killed in the theatre. He
doubted--and things are very urgent still in spite of what we are
telling them there--or he would have come to you."
They ascended a lift, passed along a narrow passage, crossed a
great hall, empty save for two hurrying messengers, and entered a
comparatively little room, whose only furniture was a long settee and a
large oval disc of cloudy, shifting grey, hung by cables from the wall.
There Lincoln left Graham for a space, and he remained alone without
understanding the shifting smoky shapes that drove slowly across this
disc.
His attention was arrested by a sound that began abruptly. It was
cheering, the frantic cheering of a vast but very remote crowd, a
roaring exultation. This ended as sharply as it had begun, like a sound
heard between the opening and shutting of a door. In the outer room was
a noise of hurrying steps and a melodious clinking as if a loose chain
was running over the teeth of a wheel.
Then he heard the voice of a woman, the rustle of unseen garments. "It
is Ostrog!" he heard her say. A little bell rang fitfully, and then
everything was still again.
Presently came voices, footsteps and movement without. The footsteps
of some one person detached itself from the other sounds and drew
near, firm, evenly measured steps. The curtain lifted slowly. A tall,
white-haired man, clad in garments of cream coloured silk, appeared,
regarding Graham from under his raised arm.
For a moment the white form remained holding the curtain, then dropped
it and stood before it. Graham's first impression was of a very broad
forehead, very pale blue eyes deep sunken under white brows, an aquiline
nose, and a heavily-lined resolute mouth. The folds of flesh over the
eyes, the drooping of the corners of the mouth contradicted the
upright bearing, and said the man was old. Graham rose to his feet
instinctively, and for a moment the two men stood in silence, regarding
each other.
"You are Ostrog?" said Graham.
"I am Ostrog."
"The Boss?"
"So I am called."
Graham felt the inconvenience of the silence. "I have to thank you
chiefly, I understand, for my safety," he said presently.
"We were afraid you were killed," said Ostrog.
"Or sent to sleep again--for ever. We have been doing everything to keep
our secret--the secret of your disappearance. Where have you been? How
did you get here?"
Graham told him briefly.
Ostrog listened in silence.
He smiled faintly. "Do you know what I was doing when they came to tell
me you had come?"
"How can I guess?"
"Preparing your double."
"My double?"
"A man as like you as we could find. We were going to hypnotise him, to
save him the difficulty of acting. It was imperative. The whole of this
revolt depends on the idea that you are awake, alive, and with us. Even
now a great multitude of people has gathered in the theatre clamouring
to see you. They do not trust... You know, of course--something of your
position?"
"Very little," said Graham.
"It is like this." Ostrog walked a pace or two into the room and turned.
"You are absolute owner," he said, "of more than half the world. As a
result of that you are practically King. Your powers are limited in
many intricate ways, but you are the figure head, the popular symbol of
government. This White Council, the Council of Trustees as it is called."
"I have heard the vague outline of these things."
"I wondered."
"I came upon a garrulous old man."
"I see... Our masses--the word comes from your days--you know of course,
that we still have masses--regard you as our actual ruler. Just as a
great number of people in your days regarded the Crown as the ruler.
They are discontented--the masses all over the earth--with the rule
of your Trustees. For the most part it is the old discontent, the old
quarrel of the common man with his commonness--the misery of work and
discipline and unfitness. But your Trustees have ruled ill. In certain
matters, in the administration of the Labour Companies, for example,
they have been unwise. They have given endless opportunities. Already we
of the popular party were agitating for reforms--when your waking came.
Came! If it had been contrived it could not have come more opportunity."
He smiled. "The public mind, making no allowance for your years of
quiescence, had already hit on the thought of waking you and appealing
to you, and--Flash!"
He indicated the outbreak by a gesture, and Graham moved his head to
show that he understood.
"The Council muddled--quarreled. They always do. They could not decide
what to do with you. You know how they imprisoned you?"
"I see. I see. And now--we win?"
"We win. Indeed we win. Tonight, in five swift hours. Suddenly we struck
everywhere. The windvane people, the Labour Company and its millions,
burst the bonds. We got the pull of the aeropiles."
He paused. "Yes," said Graham, guessing that aeropile meant flying
machine.
"That was, of course, essential. Or they could have got away. All the
city rose, every third man almost was in it! All the blue, all the
public services, save only just a few aeronauts and about half the red
police. You were rescued, and their own police of the Ways--not half of
them could be massed at the Council House--have been broken up, disarmed
or killed. All London is ours--now. Only the Council House remains.
"Half of those who remain to them of the red police were lost in that
foolish attempt to recapture you. They lost their heads when they lost
you. They flung all they had at the theatre. We cut them off from
the Council House there. Truly tonight has been a night of victory.
Everywhere your star has blazed. A day ago--the White Council ruled as
it has ruled for a gross of years, for a century and a half of years,
and then, with only a little whispering, a covert arming here and there,
suddenly--So!"
"I am very ignorant," said Graham. "I suppose--. I do not clearly
understand the conditions of this fighting. If you could explain. Where
is the Council? Where is the fight?"
Ostrog stepped across the room, something clicked, and suddenly,
save for an oval glow, they were in darkness. For a moment Graham was
puzzled.
Then he saw that the cloudy grey disc had taken depth and colour, had
assumed the appearance of an oval window looking out upon a strange
unfamiliar scene.
At the first glance he was unable to guess what this scene might be.
It was a daylight scene, the daylight of a wintry day, grey and clear.
Across the picture and halfway as it seemed between him and the remoter
view, a stout cable of twisted white wire stretched vertically. Then he
perceived that the rows of great windwheels he saw, the wide intervals,
the occasional gulfs of darkness, were akin to those through which he
had fled from the Council House. He distinguished an orderly file of red
figures marching across an open space between files of men in black,
and realised before Ostrog spoke that he was looking down on the upper
surface of latter-day London. The overnight snows had gone. He judged
that this mirror was some modern replacement of the camera obscura, but
that matter was not explained to him. He saw that though the file of red
figures was trotting from left to right, yet they were passing out of
the picture to the left. He wondered momentarily, and then saw that the
picture was passing slowly, panorama fashion, across the oval.
"In a moment you will see the fighting," said Ostrog at his elbow.
"Those fellows in red you notice are prisoners. This is the roof space
of London--all the houses are practically continuous now. The streets
and public squares are covered in. The gaps and chasms of your time have
disappeared."
Something out of focus obliterated half the picture. Its form suggested
a man. There was a gleam of metal, a flash, something that swept across
the oval, as the eyelid of a bird sweeps across its eye, and the picture
was clear again. And now Graham beheld men running down among the
wind-wheels, pointing weapons from which jetted out little
smoky flashes. They swarmed thicker and thicker to the right,
gesticulating--it might be they were shouting, but of that the picture
told nothing. They and the windwheels passed slowly and steadily across
the field of the mirror.
"Now," said Ostrog, "comes the Council House," and slowly a black edge
crept into view and gathered Graham's attention. Soon it was no longer
an edge but a cavity, a huge blackened space amidst the clustering
edifices, and from it thin spires of smoke rose into the pallid winter
sky. Gaunt ruinous masses of the building, mighty truncated piers and
girders, rose dismally out of this cavernous darkness. And over these
vestiges of some splendid place, countless minute men were clambering,
leaping, swarming.
"This is the Council House," said Ostrog. "Their last stronghold. And
the fools wasted enough ammunition to hold out for a month in blowing up
the buildings all about them--to stop our attack. You heard the smash?
It shattered half the brittle glass in the city."
And while he spoke, Graham saw that beyond this sea of ruins,
overhanging it and rising to a great height, was a ragged mass of white
building. This mass had been isolated by the ruthless destruction of
its surroundings. Black gaps marked the passages the disaster had torn
apart; big halls had been slashed open and the decoration of their
interiors showed dismally in the wintry dawn, and down the jagged wall
hung festoons of divided cables and twisted ends of lines and metallic
rods. And amidst all the vast details moved little red specks, the
red-clothed defenders of the Council. Every now and then faint flashes
illuminated the bleak shadows. At the first sight it seemed to Graham
that an attack upon this isolated white building was in progress, but
then he perceived that the party of the revolt was not advancing, but
sheltered amidst the colossal wreckage that encircled this last ragged
stronghold of the red-garbed men, was keeping up a fitful firing.
And not ten hours ago he had stood beneath the ventilating fans in a
little chamber within that remote building wondering what was happening
in the world!
Looking more attentively as this warlike episode moved silently across
the centre of the mirror, Graham saw that the white building was
surrounded on every side by ruins, and Ostrog proceeded to describe
in concise phrases how its defenders had sought by such destruction to
isolate themselves from a storm. He spoke of the loss of men that huge
downfall had entailed in an indifferent tone. He indicated an improvised
mortuary among the wreckage showed ambulances swarming like cheese-mites
along a ruinous groove that had once been a street of moving ways. He
was more interested in pointing out the parts of the Council House, the
distribution of the besiegers. In a little while the civil contest
that had convulsed London was no longer a mystery to Graham. It was
no tumultuous revolt had occurred that night, no equal warfare, but
a splendidly organised coup d'etat. Ostrog's grasp of details was
astonishing; he seemed to know the business of even the smallest knot of
black and red specks that crawled amidst these places.
He stretched a huge black arm across the luminous picture, and showed
the room whence Graham had escaped, and across the chasm of ruins the
course of his flight. Graham recognised the gulf across which the gutter
ran, and the wind-wheels where he had crouched from the flying machine.
The rest of his path had succumbed to the explosion. He looked again at
the Council House, and it was already half hidden, and on the right a
hillside with a cluster of domes and pinnacles, hazy, dim and distant,
was gliding into view.
"And the Council is really overthrown?" he said.
"Overthrown," said Ostrog.
"And I--. Is it indeed true that I?"
"You are Master of the World."
"But that white flag--"
"That is the flag of the Council--the flag of the Rule of the World. It
will fall. The fight is over. Their attack on the theatre was their last
frantic struggle. They have only a thousand men or so, and some of these
men will be disloyal. They have little ammunition. And we are reviving
the ancient arts. We are casting guns."
"But--help. Is this city the world?"
"Practically this is all they have left to them of their empire.
Abroad the cities have either revolted with us or wait the issue. Your
awakening has perplexed them, paralysed them."
"But haven't the Council flying machines? Why is there no fighting with
them?"
"They had. But the greater part of the aeronauts were in the revolt with
us. They wouldn't take the risk of fighting on our side, but they would
not stir against us. We had to get a pull with the aeronauts. Quite half
were with us, and the others knew it. Directly they knew you had got
away, those looking for you dropped. We killed the man who shot at
you--an hour ago. And we occupied the flying stages at the outset in
every city we could, and so stopped and captured the airplanes, and as
for the little flying machines that turned out--for some did--we kept up
too straight and steady a fire for them to get near the Council House.
If they dropped they couldn't rise again, because there's no clear space
about there for them to get up. Several we have smashed, several others
have dropped and surrendered, the rest have gone off to the Continent
to find a friendly city if they can before their fuel runs out. Most of
these men were only too glad to be taken prisoner and kept out of harm's
way. Upsetting in a flying machine isn't a very attractive prospect.
There's no chance for the Council that way. Its days are done."
He laughed and turned to the oval reflection again to show Graham what
he meant by flying stages. Even the four nearer ones were remote and
obscured by a thin morning haze. But Graham could perceive they were
very vast structures, judged even by the standard of the things about
them.
And then as these dim shapes passed to the left there came again the
sight of the expanse across which the disarmed men in red had been
marching. And then the black ruins, and then again the beleaguered
white fastness of the Council. It appeared no longer a ghostly pile, but
glowing amber in the sunlight, for a cloud shadow had passed. About it
the pigmy struggle still hung in suspense, but now the red defenders
were no longer firing.
So, in a dusky stillness, the man from the nineteenth century saw the
closing scene of the great revolt, the forcible establishment of his
rule. With a quality of startling discovery it came to him that this
was his world, and not that other he had left behind; that this was no
spectacle to culminate and cease; that in this world lay whatever
life was still before him, lay all his duties and dangers and
responsibilities. He turned with fresh questions. Ostrog began to answer
them, and then broke off abruptly. "But these things I must explain more
fully later. At present there are--duties. The people are coming by the
moving ways towards this ward from every part of the city--the markets
and theatres are densely crowded. You are just in time for them. They
are clamouring to see you. And abroad they want to see you. Paris,
New York, Chicago, Denver, Capri--thousands of cities are up and in a
tumult, undecided, and clamouring to see you. They have clamoured that
you should be awakened for years, and now it is done they will scarcely
believe--"
"But surely--I can't go..."
Ostrog answered from the other side of the room, and the picture
on the oval disc paled and vanished as the light jerked back again.
"There are kinetotele-photographs," he said. "As you bow to the people
here--all over the world myriads of myriads of people, packed and still
in darkened halls, will see you also. In black and white, of course--not
like this. And you will hear their shouts reinforcing the shouting in
the hall.
"And there is an optical contrivance we shall use," said Ostrog, "used
by some of the posturers and women dancers. It may be novel to you. You
stand in a very bright light, and they see not you but a magnified
image of you thrown on a screen--so that even the furtherest man in the
remotest gallery can, if he chooses, count your eyelashes."
Graham clutched desperately at one of the questions in his mind. "What
is the population of London?"
"Eight and twaindy myriads."
"Eight and what?"
"More than thirty-three millions."
These figures went beyond Graham's imagination "You will be expected to
say something," said Ostrog. "Not what you used to call a Speech, but
what our people call a Word--just one sentence, six or seven words.
Something formal. If I might suggest--' I have awakened and my heart is
with you.' That is the sort of thing they want."
"What was that?" asked Graham.
"'I am awakened and my heart is with you.' And bow--bow royally. But
first we must get you black robes--for black is your colour. Do you
mind? And then they will disperse to their homes."
Graham hesitated. "I am in your hands," he said.
Ostrog was clearly of that opinion. He thought for a moment, turned
to the curtain and called brief directions to some unseen attendants.
Almost immediately a black robe, the very fellow of the black robe
Graham had worn in the theatre, was brought. And as he threw it about
his shoulders there came from the room without the shrilling of a
high-pitched bell. Ostrog turned in interrogation to the attendant,
then suddenly seemed to change his mind, pulled the curtain aside and
disappeared.
For a moment Graham stood with the deferential attendant listening
to Ostrog's retreating steps. There was a sound of quick question and
answer and of men running. The curtain was snatched back and Ostrog
reappeared, his massive face glowing with excitement. He crossed the
room in a stride, clicked the room into darkness, gripped Grahams arm
and pointed to the mirror.
"Even as we turned away," he said.
Graham saw his index finger, black and colossal, above the mirrored
Council House. For a moment he did not understand. And then he perceived
that the flagstaff that had carried the white banner was bare.
"Do you mean--?" he began.
"The Council has surrendered. Its rule is at an end for evermore."
"Look!" and Ostrog pointed to a coil of black that crept in little jerks
up the vacant flagstaff, unfolding as it rose.
The oval picture paled as Lincoln pulled the curtain aside and entered.
"They are clamourous," he said.
Ostrog kept his grip of Graham's arm.
"We have raised the people," he said. "We have given them arms. For
today at least their wishes must be law."
Lincoln held the Curtain open for Graham and Ostrog to pass through.
On his way to the markets Graham had a transitory glance of a long
narrow white-walled room in which men in the universal blue canvas
were carrying covered things like biers, and about which men in medical
purple hurried to and fro. From this room came groans and wailing.
He had an impression of an empty blood-stained couch, of men on other
couches, bandaged and blood-stained. It was just a glimpse from a railed
footway and then a buttress hid the place and they were going on towards
the markets.
The roar of the multitude was near now: it leapt to thunder. And,
arresting his attention, a fluttering of black banners, the waving of
blue canvas and brown rags, and the swarming vastness of the theatre
near the public markets came into view down a long passage. The picture
opened out. He perceived they were entering the great theatre of his
first appearance, the great theatre he had last seen as a chequer-work
of glare and blackness in his flight from the red police. This time he
entered it along a gallery at a level high above the stage. The place
was now brilliantly lit again. He sought the gangway up which he had
fled, but he could not tell it from among its dozens of fellows; nor
could he see anything of the smashed seats, deflated cushions, and such
like traces of the fight because of the density of the people. Except
the stage the whole place was closely packed. Looking down the effect
was a vast area of stippled pink, each dot a still upturned face
regarding him. At his appearance with Ostrog the cheering died away, the
singing died away, a common interest stilled and unified the disorder.
It seemed as though every individual of those myriads was watching him.
More
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There was a little silence. I looked upon him with wonder. Clearly he was in deepest earnest. I know the psychology of the Gael is a curious one and that deep in all their hearts their ancient traditions and beliefs have strong and living roots. An... Omar's Slave
OMAR had been at Trigger's a little over two years when a strange incident occurred. We were then both aged about sixteen, he a few months older than myself. The summer holidays had come round again. I had a month ago visited my uncle in London, a... Omega The Man
The silver airship cut swiftly through the hot thin air. The noonday sun blazed down upon it and the desert world below. All about was the solemn silence of death. No living thing appeared either in the air or on the drab, gray earth. Only the air... On Board The Terror
When I came to my senses it was daylight. A half light pierced the thick glass port-hole of the narrow cabin wherein someone had placed me -- how many hours ago, I could not say! Yet it seemed to me by the slanting rays, that the sun could no... On Disscourn
BY THE TIME that they regained the mouth of the cavern, Blodsombre was at its height. In front of them the scenery sloped downward--a long succession of mountain islands in a sea of clouds. Behind them the bright, stupendous crags of Disscourn loome... On Horsell Common
I found a little crowd of perhaps twenty people surrounding the huge hole in which the cylinder lay. I have already described the appearance of that colossal bulk, embedded in the ground. The turf and gravel about it seemed charred as if by... On The Arizona Hills
I am a very old man; how old I do not know. Possibly I am a hundred, possibly more; but I cannot tell because I have never aged as other men, nor do I remember any childhood. So far as I can recollect I have always been a man, a man of about thi... On The Kaolian Road
If there be a fate that is sometimes cruel to me, there surely is a kind and merciful Providence which watches over me. As I toppled from the tower into the horrid abyss below I counted myself already dead; and Thurid must have done likewise, fo... On The Ocean Bed
Lower and lower sank the submarine. There was a swirling and foaming of the water as she went down, caused by the air bubbles which the craft carried with her in her descent. Only the top of the conning tower was out of water now, the ocean havin... On The Revolving Ladder
THE mining operations at New Aberfoyle continued to be carried on very successfully. As a matter of course, the engineer, James Starr, as well as Simon Ford, the discoverers of this rich carboniferous region, shared largely in the profits. In t... On The River Iss
In the shadows of the forest that flanks the crimson plain by the side of the Lost Sea of Korus in the Valley Dor, beneath the hurtling moons of Mars, speeding their meteoric way close above the bosom of the dying planet, I crept stealthily along ... On The Road
THE course of James Starr's ideas was abruptly stopped, when he got this second letter contradicting the first. "What does this mean?" said he to himself. He took up the torn envelope, and examined it. Like the other, it bore the Aberfoyle postm... On The Road To Simla
Almost quicker than could have been expected, considering the heavy work imposed upon the telegraph wires, the communication arrived from Berlin that Captain Heideck should, for the time being, do duty in the Russian army, and that it should be le... On The Spaniard's Walk
I paid the man half-a-sovereign. There was a seat near by and Sarakoff deposited himself upon it. I joined him. On those heights the morning air struck chill. London, misty-blue, lay before us. The taxi-man took out his pipe and began to fill it. ... On The Waters A Raft Voyage
On the thirteenth of August we were up betimes. There was no time to be lost. We now had to inaugurate a new kind of locomotion, which would have the advantage of being rapid and not fatiguing. A mast, made of two pieces of wood fastened togethe... On The Wings Of The Wind
Leaving M'Connell and a few other Cambridge men to take charge of the Great Telescope, Marston and Belfast in little more than an hour after the receipt of the exciting dispatch, were scudding down the slopes of Long's Peak by the only possible ro... On Wednesday Evening
"This is my silk dress, grandpa," said Jewel, coming out on the piazza Sunday morning. Mr. Evringham was sitting there reading the paper. He looked up to behold his granddaughter standing expectantly. She had on the cherished frock. Her plump b... One Enemy V Twenty-five Millions Of Friends
The American public took a lively interest in the smallest details of the enterprise of the Gun Club. It followed day by day the discussion of the committee. The most simple preparations for the great experiment, the questions of figures which ... Operation Haystack
It's hard to ferret out a gang of fanatics; it would, obviously, be even harder to spot a genetic line of dedicated men. But the problem Orne had was one step tougher than that! When the Investigation & Adjustment scout cruiser landed on Mar... Opportunity
From where Dick Barrow sat, hundreds of men were visible, occupying benches in every manner of position. Some stretched at full length, sleeping in the morning sun after a night in the park. Others sat with heads hanging; thinking thoughts of thei... Ordination
St. Thomas, Tuesday, 23 July 2571 About mid-afternoon, Shannon was leaning back in his desk chair, planning the March raid that would supposedly mark the beginning of the Brotherhood's real push against the Kingdoms, when he sensed a use of ... Orographic Details
The course taken by the projectile, as we have before remarked, was bearing it toward the moon's northern hemisphere. The travelers were far from the central point which they would have struck, had their course not been subject to an irremediable... Ostrog
Graham could now take a clearer view of his position. For a long time yet he wandered, but after the talk of the old man his discovery of this Ostrog was clear in his mind as the final inevitable decision. One thing was evident, those who were a... Ostrog's Point Of View
Graham found Ostrog waiting to give a formal account of his day's stewardship. On previous occasions he had passed over this ceremony as speedily as possible, in order to resume his aerial experiences, but now he began to ask quick short questio... Our First View Of The Earth From Mars-a Martian Courtship
Within a few days we had our first glimpse of the earth from Mars. It appeared only as a very thin but bright crescent of light, as the lighted portion was less than one-twelfth part of the whole diameter of the disc, and it was only visible ... Our Flight
I got out of bed and began to examine my clothes. They were strewn about the floor and on chairs. The colour of them seemed peculiar to my senses. My frock coat, of heavy black material, with curious braiding and buttons, fascinated me. I counted ... Our Route Reversed
Here ends what I call "My Journal" of our voyage on board the raft, which journal was happily saved from the wreck. I proceed with my narrative as I did before I commenced my daily notes. What happened when the terrible shock took place, when th... Our Start We Meet With Adventures By The Way
The weather was overcast but settled, when we commenced our adventurous and perilous journey. We had neither to fear fatiguing heat nor drenching rain. It was, in fact, real tourist weather. As there was nothing I liked better than horse exercis... Our Voyage To Iceland
The hour of departure came at last. The night before, the worthy Mr. Thompson brought us the most cordial letters of introduction for Baron Trampe, Governor of Iceland, for M. Pictursson, coadjutor to the bishop, and for M. Finsen, mayor of the to... Out Around Rigel
[An astounding chronicle of two Lunarians' conquest of time and interstellar space.] The sun had dropped behind the Grimaldi plateau, although for a day twilight would linger over the Oceanus Procellarum. The sky was a hazy blue, and out... Out To Sea
The following morning an advertisement appeared in the papers, under the heading of help wanted: woman. It was the same address on Morgan Avenue. His heart sank! The man was advertising for a wife! Now Barrow knew he was in for a tough streak of l... Outside The Law
Such was the letter addressed to the government of the United States. As to the person who had placed it in the mail-box of the police, no one had seen him. The sidewalk in front of our offices had probably not been once vacant during the e... Outward Bound
HOW, trembling lest we should be discovered, we left Eastbourne by train two hours later--Kouaga joining the train at Polegate so as to avoid notice--how the Grand Vizier of Mo purchased our travelling necessities in London; how we travelled to Li... Oxenford's Daughter
Constans had now spent nearly a fortnight in the valley of the Swiftwater, and, while he had been hospitably received and entertained, he made but small progress in his mission; it seemed as though this second propaganda were also doomed to failur... Panawe
The husband got up to meet his wife and their guest. He was clothed in white. He had a beardless face, with breve and poigns. His skin, on face and body alike, was so white, fresh, and soft, that it scarcely looked skin at all--it rather resembled a... Pandemic
BY J. F. BONE Generally, human beings don't do totally useless things consistently and widely. So maybe there is something to it "We call it Thurston's Disease for two perfectly good reason... Parallel Planetary Life
I was sleeping soundly on my deliciously soft heap of downy pillows, when in the early morning I was awakened by a pounding on the door of the ante-chamber. As one always wakens from a sound sleep with his most familiar language upon his tongue, I... Pepper
I was seated in my chair, back again in this old study. My glance wandered 'round the room. For a minute, it had a strange, quivery appearance--unreal and unsubstantial. This disappeared, and I saw that nothing was altered in any way. I looked towar... Perfidy
On the morning that Bulan set out with his three monsters from the deserted long-house in which they had spent the night, Professor Maxon's party was speeding up the river, constantly buoyed with hope by the repeated reports of natives that the wh... Permissive Limits Of Ignorance And Belief In The United States
The immediate result of Barbicane's proposition was to place upon the orders of the day all the astronomical facts relative to the Queen of the Night. Everybody set to work to study assiduously. One would have thought that the moon had just appea... Personal Reminiscences Why We Decided On The Voyage
My name is Wilfrid Poynders, and during the greater part of my lifetime of more than sixty-three years astronomy has been my favourite study. For the last thirty years the planet Mars has been an object of special interest to me, and I have d... Phoebe At The Peacock Inn
While Copernicus Droop was acquiring fame and fortune as a photographer, Rebecca and Phoebe were leading a quiet life in the city. Phoebe was perfectly happy. For her this was the natural continuation of a visit which her father, Isaac Burton, h... Phutra Again
I HASTENED TO THE CLIFF EDGE ABOVE JA AND helped him to a secure footing. He would not listen to any thanks for his attempt to save me, which had come so near miscarrying. "I had given you up for lost when you tumbled into the Mahar temple," h... Pickaxe And Trowel
The same evening Barbicane and his companions returned to Tampa Town; and Murchison, the engineer, re-embarked on board the Tampico for New Orleans. His object was to enlist an army of workmen, and to collect together the greater part of the mate... Pinpoint In Space
Tom knew now that it was the right thing to do. There was no question, after the Major's story, of what Dad had been doing out in the Belt at the time he had been killed. He had been doing a job that was more important to him than asteroid mining ... Pirates Of Space
Apparently motionless to her passengers and crew, the Interplanetary liner Hyperion bored serenely onward through space at normal acceleration. In the railed-off sanctum in one corner of the control room a bell tinkled, a smothered whirr was heard... Points Of View
The light grew stronger as we advanced. In a little time it was nearly as strong as the phosphorescence on Cavor's legs. Our tunnel was expanding into a cavern, and this new light was at the farther end of it. I perceived something that set my hopes... Polecrab
The morning slowly passed. Maskull made some convulsive movements, and opened his eyes. He sat up, blinking. All was night-like and silent in the forest. The strange light had gone, the music had ceased, Dreamsinter had vanished. He fingered his bea... Postmark Ganymede
Consider the poor mailman of the future. To "sleet and snow and dead of night"--things that must not keep him from his appointed rounds--will be added, sub-zero void, meteors, and planets th... Prelude John Carter Comes To Earth
Shea had just beaten me at chess, as usual, and, also as usual, I had gleaned what questionable satisfaction I might by twitting him with this indication of failing mentality by calling his attention to the nth time to that theory, propounded by cer... Preparations For War
The months that followed were the busiest, I think, of my life. I began by a complete reorganization of this government of which I found myself the head. For the doddering old councilors of the late king I substituted men whom I selected from amon... Preparing For Action
The next day was a busy one, not only for Lennard himself but for others whose help he had come to enlist in the working out of the Great Experiment. He turned up at Bowcock's house on the stroke of seven, got into his pit clothes, and was drop... President Barbicane's Communication
On the 5th of October, at eight p.m., a dense crowd pressed toward the saloons of the Gun Club at No. 21 Union Square. All the members of the association resident in Baltimore attended the invitation of their president. As regards the correspondi... President Winthrop 1999
The Secretary of State closed the door. "Well?" he asked. President Winthrop looked up from the desk and blinked. "Hello, Art," he said. "Sit down." "Sorry I'm late," the Secretary told him. "I came as soon as I got the call." "It doesn... Prisoners
Wherever they were planning to take them, the captors took great pains to make sure that their two prisoners did not escape before they were underway. Greg and Johnny were strapped down securely into accelleration cots. Two burly guards were assig... Pro And Con
At the period when these events took place, I had just returned from a scientific research in the disagreeable territory of Nebraska, in the United States. In virtue of my office as Assistant Professor in the Museum of Natural History in Paris, the... Problem
The letter came down the slot too early that morning to be the regular mail run. Pete Greenwood eyed the New Philly photocancel with a dreadful premonition. The letter said: PETER: Can you come East chop-chop, urgent? Grdznth pro... Project Mastodon
The chief of protocol said, "Mr. Hudson of--ah--Mastodonia." The secretary of state held out his hand. "I'm glad to see you, Mr. Hudson. I understand you've been here several times." "That's right," said Hudson. "I had a hard time making your pe...