“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 are quoting. Whom?” The voice from above had a sudden interest.
“A friend of mine who thinks a lot about these things. You wouldn’t know him.”
“I differ from him absolutely. You are still clinging to the old notion of something incalculable and mystic which can defeat reason. You are wrong, for reason is the only power. Every day we are rationalising life, and what we cannot rationalise we can isolate and nullify. You young people are relics of the Middle Ages.”
“But so is human nature.” It was Barbara who spoke.
“Do not misunderstand me. We allow for the spasmodic impulses of human nature. But we analyse them and evaluate them, and by understanding them we can use them. Liberty, for example. That ancient instinct can be worked out to four places of decimals, and can consequently be used by reason. Is the human intelligence to submit docilely to be governed and thwarted by blind reactions which mankind shares with the brutes?”
“You are very clever, Excellency, but I think that there is always an unknown x which will defeat you. You are too clever, for you would make science and reason rule over a dimension to which they don’t apply. Humility may be the more scientific than arrogance.”
The guest laughed pleasantly. “I think you also are quoting. Whom, may I ask?”
“A friend. Sir Archie’s friend.”
Had anyone been observing Archie closely, he would have noticed that he had looked at his watch, and then made a movement towards the electric button behind his elbow. The act seemed to afford him some satisfaction, for he gave a sigh of relief and lit a cigarette.
The Gobernador had turned to catch Barbara’s reply.
“I should like to meet your friend,” he said, and then suddenly he flung his head back and listened. The throb of the propeller was felt through the vessel, and the ear caught the swish of moving water.
“You will soon have that pleasure,” said Barbara, “for we are taking you to him.”
In an instant the guest was on his feet. “What nonsense is this?” he asked sharply. His tall figure towered menacingly above the others, who remained seated in their chairs.
“It is all right, sir,” said Archie. A change had come over the young man, for the diffidence, the lower-boy shyness, which had been noticeable all the evening, had gone. Now he seemed to be at his ease and to be enjoying himself.
“I know it is a bit of a liberty, and we apologise and all that sort of thing, but it had to be done. You see, we greatly admire you and we want you to be our leader… It is no use shouting for your bodyguard. I’m afraid we had to handle them a little roughly, and at this moment they are trussed up and adrift in a boat. The tide’s all right and they’ll be picked up to-morrow morning in the harbour… Please don’t do anything rash, sir. Our men are all about, and they carry guns. You see, we really mean business.”
The Gobernador had his face averted so the other three could not see his change of mood. But a change there was, for he flung himself down in his chair and refilled his pipe.
“I’m a busy man,” he said, “and you are doing more harm than you can realise. Also I am afraid you are making serious trouble for yourselves. But I suppose I must submit to this prank. I was right when I said you were still in the Middle Ages. You are a set of melodramatic children… I hope you don’t mean it to last long. By the way, where are you taking me?”
Janet clapped her hands. “I have won my bet. I knew you would take it well. I told you when we asked you to dinner that we were going to sit at your feet. That is true, you know. We want you to lead us.”
“We are going to help you to discover America,” said Barbara. “You will be our new Columbus.”
“You will meet the friend,” said Archie, “whom Miss Dasent and I have been quoting.”
“Perhaps you will now tell me his name,” said the Gobernador.
“We call him Sandy,” Archie said casually. “His name used to be Arbuthnot. Now it’s Clanroyden.”
The recovered urbanity of the Gobernador was suddenly broken. A cry escaped him, and he turned his face away to the racing seas, but not before Janet had seen his brows knit in a mood so dark that she unconsciously reached for Archie’s hand.
XII
When the Corinna was beginning to move out of the dusk harbour of Olifa, a wireless message was sent from it to an address in the Gran Seco. That message consisted of two words: Francis First. There had been various schemes agreed upon for the handling of the Gobernador, and the numeral was intended to signify the one which had been adopted. By a happy chance, the first and simplest had succeeded. The receipt of this brief message was like a spark to powder. The events of the next few days in the Gran Seco cannot be told in orderly history. They had the speed and apparent inconsequence of moving pictures, and can only be set forth as flashes of light in a fog of confusion.
At the Universum Mine the manager woke as usual, breakfasted on his veranda, read his mail, and was a little surprised that certain telephone calls, which he had expected, had not come through from Headquarters. He was about to ring for his secretary and bid him call up the Gran Seco city, when the chief engineer, a Texan named Varnay, appeared on the scene and accepted a cup of coffee and a cigar. The manager was a newcomer who had been specially chosen by the Gobernador, a highly efficient