The Sleeper Awakes

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE STRUGGLE IN THE COUNCIL HOUSE

  As Asano and Graham hurried along to the ruins about the Council House,they saw everywhere the excitement of the people rising. "To your wards!To your wards!" Everywhere men and women in blue were hurrying fromunknown subterranean employments, up the staircases of the middle path;at one place Graham saw an arsenal of the revolutionary committeebesieged by a crowd of shouting men, at another a couple of men in thehated yellow uniform of the Labour Police, pursued by a gathering crowd,fled precipitately along the swift way that went in the oppositedirection.

  The cries of "To your wards!" became at last a continuous shouting asthey drew near the Government quarter. Many of the shouts wereunintelligible. "Ostrog has betrayed us," one man bawled in a hoarsevoice, again and again, dinning that refrain into Graham's ear until ithaunted him. This person stayed close beside Graham and Asano on theswift way, shouting to the people who swarmed on the lower platforms ashe rushed past them. His cry about Ostrog alternated with someincomprehensible orders. Presently he went leaping down and disappeared.

  Graham's mind was filled with the din. His plans were vague and unformed.He had one picture of some commanding position from which he couldaddress the multitudes, another of meeting Ostrog face to face. He wasfull of rage, of tense muscular excitement, his hands gripped, his lipswere pressed together.

  The way to the Council House across the ruins was impassable, but Asanomet that difficulty and took Graham into the premises of the centralpost-office. The post-office was nominally at work, but the blue-clothedporters moved sluggishly or had stopped to stare through the arches oftheir galleries at the shouting men who were going by outside. "Every manto his ward! Every man to his ward!" Here, by Asano's advice, Grahamrevealed his identity.

  They crossed to the Council House by a cable cradle. Already in the briefinterval since the capitulation of the Councillors a great change hadbeen wrought in the appearance of the ruins. The spurting cascades of theruptured sea-water mains had been captured and tamed, and huge temporarypipes ran overhead along a flimsy looking fabric of girders. The sky waslaced with restored cables and wires that served the Council House, and amass of new fabric with cranes and other building machines going to andfro upon it projected to the left of the white pile.

  The moving ways that ran across this area had been restored, albeit foronce running under the open sky. These were the ways that Graham had seenfrom the little balcony in the hour of his awakening, not nine dayssince, and the hall of his Trance had been on the further side, where nowshapeless piles of smashed and shattered masonry were heaped together.

  It was already high day and the sun was shining brightly. Out of theirtall caverns of blue electric light came the swift ways crowded withmultitudes of people, who poured off them and gathered ever denser overthe wreckage and confusion of the ruins. The air was full of theirshouting, and they were pressing and swaying towards the centralbuilding. For the most part that shouting mass consisted of shapelessswarms, but here and there Graham could see that a rude disciplinestruggled to establish itself. And every voice clamoured for order in thechaos. "To your wards! Every man to his ward!"

  The cable carried them into a hall which Graham recognised as theante-chamber to the Hall of the Atlas, about the gallery of which he hadwalked days ago with Howard to show himself to the Vanished Council, anhour from his awakening. Now the place was empty except for two cableattendants. These men seemed hugely astonished to recognise the Sleeperin the man who swung down from the cross seat.

  "Where is Ostrog?" he demanded. "I must see Ostrog forthwith. He hasdisobeyed me. I have come back to take things out of his hands." Withoutwaiting for Asano, he went straight across the place, ascended the stepsat the further end, and, pulling the curtain aside, found himself facingthe perpetually labouring Titan.

  The hall was empty. Its appearance had changed very greatly since hisfirst sight of it. It had suffered serious injury in the violentstruggle of the first outbreak. On the right hand side of the greatfigure the upper half of the wall had been torn away for nearly twohundred feet of its length, and a sheet of the same glassy film that hadenclosed Graham at his awakening had been drawn across the gap. Thisdeadened, but did not altogether exclude the roar of the people outside."Wards! Wards! Wards!" they seemed to be saying. Through it there werevisible the beams and supports of metal scaffoldings that rose and fellaccording to the requirements of a great crowd of workmen. An idlebuilding machine, with lank arms of red painted metal stretched gauntlyacross this green tinted picture. On it were still a number of workmenstaring at the crowd below. For a moment he stood regarding thesethings, and Asano overtook him.

  "Ostrog," said Asano, "will be in the small offices beyond there." Thelittle man looked livid now and his eyes searched Graham's face.

  They had scarcely advanced ten paces from the curtain before a littlepanel to the left of the Atlas rolled up, and Ostrog, accompanied byLincoln and followed by two black and yellow clad negroes, appearedcrossing the remote corner of the hall, towards a second panel that wasraised and open. "Ostrog," shouted Graham, and at the sound of his voicethe little party turned astonished.

  Ostrog said something to Lincoln and advanced alone.

  Graham was the first to speak. His voice was loud and dictatorial. "Whatis this I hear?" he asked. "Are you bringing negroes here--to keep thepeople down?"

  "It is none too soon," said Ostrog. "They have been getting out of handmore and more, since the revolt. I under-estimated--"

  "Do you mean that these infernal negroes are on the way?"

  "On the way. As it is, you have seen the people--outside?"

  "No wonder! But--after what was said. You have taken too much onyourself, Ostrog."

  Ostrog said nothing, but drew nearer.

  "These negroes must not come to London," said Graham. "I am Master andthey shall not come."

  Ostrog glanced at Lincoln, who at once came towards them with his twoattendants close behind him. "Why not?" asked Ostrog.

  "White men must be mastered by white men. Besides--"

  "The negroes are only an instrument."

  "But that is not the question. I am the Master. I mean to be the Master.And I tell you these negroes shall not come."

  "The people--"

  "I believe in the people."

  "Because you are an anachronism. You are a man out of the Past--anaccident. You are Owner perhaps of the world. Nominally--legally. But youare not Master. You do not know enough to be Master."

  He glanced at Lincoln again. "I know now what you think--I can guesssomething of what you mean to do. Even now it is not too late to warnyou. You dream of human equality--of some sort of socialistic order--youhave all those worn-out dreams of the nineteenth century fresh and vividin your mind, and you would rule this age that you do not understand."

  "Listen!" said Graham. "You can hear it--a sound like the sea. Notvoices--but a voice. Do _you_ altogether understand?"

  "We taught them that," said Ostrog.

  "Perhaps. Can you teach them to forget it? But enough of this! Thesenegroes must not come."

  There was a pause and Ostrog looked him in the eyes.

  "They will," he said.

  "I forbid it," said Graham.

  "They have started."

  "I will not have it."

  "No," said Ostrog. "Sorry as I am to follow the method of theCouncil--. For your own good--you must not side with--Disorder. And nowthat you are here--. It was kind of you to come here."

  Lincoln laid his hand on Graham's shoulder. Abruptly Graham realised theenormity of his blunder in coming to the Council House. He turnedtowards the curtains that separated the hall from the ante-chamber. Theclutching hand of Asano intervened. In another moment Lincoln hadgrasped Graham's cloak.

  He turned and struck at Lincoln's face, and incontinently a negro had himby collar and arm. He wrenched himself away, his sleeve tore noisily, andhe stumbled back, to be tripped by the other attenda
nt. Then he struckthe ground heavily and he was staring at the distant ceiling of the hall.

  He shouted, rolled over, struggling fiercely, clutched an attendant's legand threw him headlong, and struggled to his feet.

  Lincoln appeared before him, went down heavily again with a blow underthe point of the jaw and lay still. Graham made two strides, stumbled.And then Ostrog's arm was round his neck, he was pulled over backward,fell heavily, and his arms were pinned to the ground. After a few violentefforts he ceased to struggle and lay staring at Ostrog's heaving throat.

  "You--are--a prisoner," panted Ostrog, exulting. "You--were rather afool--to come back."

  Graham turned his head about and perceived through the irregular greenwindow in the walls of the hall the men who had been working the buildingcranes gesticulating excitedly to the people below them. They had seen!

  Ostrog followed his eyes and started. He shouted something to Lincoln,but Lincoln did not move. A bullet smashed among the mouldings above theAtlas. The two sheets of transparent matter that had been stretchedacross this gap were rent, the edges of the torn aperture darkened,curved, ran rapidly towards the framework, and in a moment the Councilchamber stood open to the air. A chilly gust blew in by the gap, bringingwith it a war of voices from the ruinous spaces without, an elvishbabblement, "Save the Master!" "What are they doing to the Master?" "TheMaster is betrayed!"

  And then he realised that Ostrog's attention was distracted, thatOstrog's grip had relaxed, and, wrenching his arms free, he struggled tohis knees. In another moment he had thrust Ostrog back, and he was on onefoot, his hand gripping Ostrog's throat, and Ostrog's hands clutching thesilk about his neck.

  But now men were coming towards them from the dais--men whose intentionshe misunderstood. He had a glimpse of someone running in the distancetowards the curtains of the antechamber, and then Ostrog had slipped fromhim and these newcomers were upon him. To his infinite astonishment, theyseized him. They obeyed the shouts of Ostrog.

  He was lugged a dozen yards before he realised that they were notfriends--that they were dragging him towards the open panel. When he sawthis he pulled back, he tried to fling himself down, he shouted for helpwith all his strength. And this time there were answering cries.

  The grip upon his neck relaxed, and behold! in the lower corner of therent upon the wall, first one and then a number of little black figuresappeared shouting and waving arms. They came leaping down from the gapinto the light gallery that had led to the Silent Rooms. They ran alongit, so near were they that Graham could see the weapons in their hands.Then Ostrog was shouting in his ear to the men who held him, and oncemore he was struggling with all his strength against their endeavours tothrust him towards the opening that yawned to receive him. "They can'tcome down," panted Ostrog. "They daren't fire. It's all right. We'll savehim from them yet."

  For long minutes as it seemed to Graham that inglorious strugglecontinued. His clothes were rent in a dozen places, he was covered indust, one hand had been trodden upon. He could hear the shouts of hissupporters, and once he heard shots. He could feel his strength givingway, feel his efforts wild and aimless. But no help came, and surely,irresistibly, that black, yawning opening came nearer.

  The pressure upon him relaxed and he struggled up. He saw Ostrog's greyhead receding and perceived that he was no longer held. He turned aboutand came full into a man in black. One of the green weapons cracked closeto him, a drift of pungent smoke came into his face, and a steel bladeflashed. The huge chamber span about him.

  He saw a man in pale blue stabbing one of the black and yellow attendantsnot three yards from his face. Then hands were upon him again.

  He was being pulled in two directions now. It seemed as though peoplewere shouting to him. He wanted to understand and could not. Someone wasclutching about his thighs, he was being hoisted in spite of his vigorousefforts. He understood suddenly, he ceased to struggle. He was lifted upon men's shoulders and carried away from that devouring panel. Tenthousand throats were cheering.

  He saw men in blue and black hurrying after the retreating Ostrogitesand firing. Lifted up, he saw now across the whole expanse of the hallbeneath the Atlas image, saw that he was being carried towards theraised platform in the centre of the place. The far end of the hall wasalready full of people running towards him. They were looking at himand cheering.

  He became aware that a bodyguard surrounded him. Active men about himshouted vague orders. He saw close at hand the black moustached man inyellow who had been among those who had greeted him in the publictheatre, shouting directions. The hall was already densely packed withswaying people, the little metal gallery sagged with a shouting load, thecurtains at the end had been torn away, and the antechamber was revealeddensely crowded. He could scarcely make the man near him hear for thetumult about them. "Where has Ostrog gone?" he asked.

  The man he questioned pointed over the heads towards the lower panelsabout the hall on the side opposite the gap. They stood open, and armedmen, blue clad with black sashes, were running through them and vanishinginto the chambers and passages beyond. It seemed to Graham that a soundof firing drifted through the riot. He was carried in a staggering curveacross the great hall towards an opening beneath the gap.

  He perceived men working with a sort of rude discipline to keep the crowdoff him, to make a space clear about him. He passed out of the hall, andsaw a crude, new wall rising blankly before him topped by blue sky. Hewas swung down to his feet; someone gripped his arm and guided him. Hefound the man in yellow close at hand. They were taking him up a narrowstairway of brick, and close at hand rose the great red painted masses,the cranes and levers and the still engines of the big building machine.

  He was at the top of the steps. He was hurried across a narrow railedfootway, and suddenly with a vast shouting the amphitheatre of ruinsopened again before him. "The Master is with us! The Master! The Master!"The shout swept athwart the lake of faces like a wave, broke against thedistant cliff of ruins, and came back in a welter of cries. "The Masteris on our side!"

  Graham perceived that he was no longer encompassed by people, that he wasstanding upon a little temporary platform of white metal, part of aflimsy seeming scaffolding that laced about the great mass of the CouncilHouse. Over all the huge expanse of the ruins swayed and eddied theshouting people; and here and there the black banners of therevolutionary societies ducked and swayed and formed rare nuclei oforganisation in the chaos. Up the steep stairs of wall and scaffolding bywhich his rescuers had reached the opening in the Atlas Chamber clung asolid crowd, and little energetic black figures clinging to pillars andprojections were strenuous to induce these congested, masses to stir.Behind him, at a higher point on the scaffolding, a number of menstruggled upwards with the flapping folds of a huge black standard.Through the yawning gap in the walls below him he could look down uponthe packed attentive multitudes in the Hall of the Atlas. The distantflying stages to the south came out bright and vivid, brought nearer asit seemed by an unusual translucency of the air. A solitary monoplanebeat up from the central stage as if to meet the coming aeroplanes.

  "What has become of Ostrog?" asked Graham, and even as he spoke he sawthat all eyes were turned from him towards the crest of the Council Housebuilding. He looked also in this direction of universal attention. For amoment he saw nothing but the jagged corner of a wall, hard and clearagainst the sky. Then in the shadow he perceived the interior of a roomand recognised with a start the green and white decorations of his formerprison. And coming quickly across this opened room and up to the veryverge of the cliff of the ruins came a little white clad figure followedby two other smaller seeming figures in black and yellow. He heard theman beside him exclaim "Ostrog," and turned to ask a question. But henever did, because of the startled exclamation of another of those whowere with him and a lank finger suddenly pointing. He looked, and behold!the monoplane that had been rising from the flying stage when last he hadlooked in that direction, was driving towards them. The swift steadyflight w
as still novel enough to hold his attention.

  Nearer it came, growing rapidly larger and larger, until it had sweptover the further edge of the ruins and into view of the dense multitudesbelow. It drooped across the space and rose and passed overhead, risingto clear the mass of the Council House, a filmy translucent shape withthe solitary aeronaut peering down through its ribs. It vanished beyondthe skyline of the ruins.

  Graham transferred his attention to Ostrog. He was signalling with hishands, and his attendants were busy breaking down the wall beside him. Inanother moment the monoplane came into view again, a little thing faraway, coming round in a wide curve and going slower.

  Then suddenly the man in yellow shouted: "What are they doing? What arethe people doing? Why is Ostrog left there? Why is he not captured? Theywill lift him--the monoplane will lift him! Ah!"

  The exclamation was echoed by a shout from the ruins. The rattling soundof the green weapons drifted across the intervening gulf to Graham, and,looking down, he saw a number of black and yellow uniforms running alongone of the galleries that lay open to the air below the promontory uponwhich Ostrog stood. They fired as they ran at men unseen, and thenemerged a number of pale blue figures in pursuit. These minute fightingfigures had the oddest effect; they seemed as they ran like little modelsoldiers in a toy. This queer appearance of a house cut open gave thatstruggle amidst furniture and passages a quality of unreality. It wasperhaps two hundred yards away from him, and very nearly fifty above theheads in the ruins below. The black and yellow men ran into an openarchway, and turned and fired a volley. One of the blue pursuers stridingforward close to the edge, flung up his arms, staggered sideways, seemedto Graham's sense to hang over the edge for several seconds, and fellheadlong down. Graham saw him strike a projecting corner, fly out, headover heels, head over heels, and vanish behind the red arm of thebuilding machine.

  And then a shadow came between Graham and the sun. He looked up and thesky was clear, but he knew the little monoplane had passed. Ostrog hadvanished. The man in yellow thrust before him, zealous and perspiring,pointing and blatant.

  "They are grounding!" cried the man in yellow. "They are grounding. Tellthe people to fire at him. Tell them to fire at him!"

  Graham could not understand. He heard loud voices repeating theseenigmatical orders.

  Suddenly he saw the prow of the monoplane come gliding over the edge ofthe ruins and stop with a jerk. In a moment Graham understood that thething had grounded in order that Ostrog might escape by it. He saw a bluehaze climbing out of the gulf, perceived that the people below him werenow firing up at the projecting stem.

  A man beside him cheered hoarsely, and he saw that the blue rebels hadgained the archway that had been contested by the men in black andyellow a moment before, and were running in a continual stream along theopen passage.

  And suddenly the monoplane slipped over the edge of the Council House andfell like a diving swallow. It dropped, tilting at an angle of forty-fivedegrees, so steeply that it seemed to Graham, it seemed perhaps to mostof those below, that it could not possibly rise again.

  It fell so closely past him that he could see Ostrog clutching the guidesof the seat, with his grey hair streaming; see the white-faced aeronautwrenching over the lever that turned the machine upward. He heard theapprehensive vague cry of innumerable men below.

  Graham clutched the railing before him and gasped. The second seemed anage. The lower vane of the monoplane passed within an ace of touching thepeople, who yelled and screamed and trampled one another below.

  And then it rose.

  For a moment it looked as if it could not possibly clear the oppositecliff, and then that it could not possibly clear the wind-wheel thatrotated beyond.

  And behold! it was clear and soaring, still heeling sideways, upward,upward into the wind-swept sky.

  The suspense of the moment gave place to a fury of exasperation as theswarming people realised that Ostrog had escaped them. With belatedactivity they renewed their fire, until the rattling wove into a roar,until the whole area became dim and blue and the air pungent with thethin smoke of their weapons.

  Too late! The flying machine dwindled smaller and smaller, and curvedabout and swept gracefully downward to the flying stage from which it hadso lately risen. Ostrog had escaped.

  For a while a confused babblement arose from the ruins, and then theuniversal attention came back to Graham, perched high among thescaffolding. He saw the faces of the people turned towards him, heardtheir shouts at his rescue. From the throat of the ways came the song ofthe revolt spreading like a breeze across that swaying sea of men.

  The little group of men about him shouted congratulations on his escape.The man in yellow was close to him, with a set face and shining eyes. Andthe song was rising, louder and louder; tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp.

  Slowly the realisation came of the full meaning of these things to him,the perception of the swift change in his position. Ostrog, who had stoodbeside him whenever he had faced that shouting multitude before, wasbeyond there--the antagonist. There was no one to rule for him anylonger. Even the people about him, the leaders and organisers of themultitude, looked to see what he would do, looked to him to act, awaitedhis orders. He was king indeed. His puppet reign was at an end.

  He was very intent to do the thing that was expected of him. His nervesand muscles were quivering, his mind was perhaps a little confused, buthe felt neither fear nor anger. His hand that had been trodden uponthrobbed and was hot. He was a little nervous about his bearing. He knewhe was not afraid, but he was anxious not to seem afraid. In his formerlife he had often been more excited in playing games of skill. He wasdesirous of immediate action, he knew he must not think too much indetail of the huge complexity of the struggle about him lest be should beparalysed by the sense of its intricacy.

  Over there those square blue shapes, the flying stages, meant Ostrog;against Ostrog, who was so clear and definite and decisive, he who was sovague and undecided, was fighting for the whole future of the world.