The Cimbrians who had got through the gate ran off into the woods. The rain had stopped, though it still ran off the trees.
We caught no more Cimbrians, because they run faster than men. We did come on some untying their horses, chased them away, and took the horses ourselves. We had four killed (besides the sentry) to at least sixteen of them, but nearly all of us had cuts, bruises, or graver hurts.
I recalled most of our men by shouting and started back. We entered the village expecting heroes' welcomes.
Nobody met us. In fact, there seemed to be nobody there until Louis Motta ran out.
"You fools!" he screamed. "Vaud came, but not to aid us! He has taken all the women and infants back to Nouvelle-Arcadie! He and his men assembled the littles, and that menace made the women go quietly."
We stared stupidly, then ran through the village and down to the beach. All the canoes were gone; but, in plain sight a hundred yards out, the whole flotilla bobbed on its way to the island.
The men jumped and howled, but that didn't stop the rise and fall of the paddles. Motta declaimed:
"Now you see what comes of putting confidence in outsiders. Ten minutes sooner and you could have arrested this violation. But no, our great General Fay thinks not of that. This type takes every man in Liberté except Wyss and me, so there is nobody to warn you."
"Where were you?" I said. "Why didn't you warn us?"
"Because I was under the bed of Wyss, that's why. I hid myself there when I saw what they did, and I had no chance to get out until now. Wyss they did not hurt, but neither could they move him in his condition.
"Now, citizens, listen to me. Always have I been a man of peace, me, Louis Motta. I have offered the soft answer and turned the other cheek. But this, it is too much. I shall myself conduct you to vengeance and reparation ..."
Motta was good when he got steamed up. Some grumbled and asked what was the matter with the general they had. I stammered something about being available, but Motta tore into me, denounced my incompetence, and had me twisting my big feet in the sand with nothing to say like a dumb schoolboy.
"First," he said, "we must build new boats to replace those that have been stolen ..."
I watched Motta's new fleet paddle away with lugubrious feelings. Motta had refused to let me come along, I suppose for the obvious reasons.
Although the prospect of a battle terrifies me, I wanted to rescue Adrienne myself. For three days I quarreled furiously with Motta. He had got his political grip back on his men and threatened to have me locked up if I opposed him. Adorn might have helped me if he hadn't been badly hurt in the fight at the outer gate. So I stood on the beach like a big booby, wondering if I ought not to have throttled Motta and chanced a fight with his men.
I slouched back to the guest house to drink Turanian wine with Arthur Ramaswami. While the new canoes had been building, the tender had come back.
"Cheer up, Gerry," said Ramaswami. "We're taking off for good in a few days, and you can forget all this. You've been hero enough for one trip."
I had drunk myself fuzzy and was blubbering into my mug when there was a scuff of feet. A Passivist dashed in.
"Monsieur Fay!" he cried between gasps. "We are fools again! All is lost, because you were not there to lead us!"
I focussed on the man with an effort. "What's lost? And how did you get back so soon?"
"It is a disaster of the most insupportable! Listen; I tell you. We disembark at Elysée in full daylight — and there's no one! But nobody!
"So, we march like real soldiers into the town. We assemble in the square. Motta makes a harangue, full of the noblest sentiments. We are fired with patriotism. The perfidious enemy has fled, says he, but he has taken our dear ones.
Very well, we shall march the length and breadth of the island seeking the cowardly traitor. Motta draws us up in a column. He puts himself at the head. He gives the signal. Maurice Rahn beats the drum. We march into the forest.
"Then out of nowhere come the forces of Vaud. They are not only more than we; they not only surprise us; they are better armed. While we have been making boats, Vaud has been improving upon our armament. Instead of our bucklers of osier and our hatchets, his men have shields, helmets, and even some cuirasses of the bark of the leather tree, bound with strips and hoops of iron. They have swords and spears of iron. They throw the spears and precipitate themselves upon us with the swords, menacing us with horrible cries. Our musketeers shoot in a wild manner; they hit two or three Activists. Then the foe is upon us.
"Thus, Motta is struck down in the first charge. The rest flee. Some are cut down; some are made prisoner. A bare half escape in our boats, mostly without weapons. And afterwards?"
I looked at Ramaswami, who said: "The old man won't lend you guns. He might have done so to help you repulse the Cimbrians, but not for an inter-human feud."
I said to the Passivist: "I don't suppose it occurred to Motta to send scouts out on all sides?"
"But no, monsieur, why should it? Now that you say it, I see that this would be sage. But it is not a thing that would suggest itself to one who knows nothing of war."
"And I don't suppose anybody had time to chop holes in Vaud's boats before shoving off?"
"No."
"Then it seems to me as if the game were over."
"But monsieur, we debated the matter during our return, and we want you for our general again. It was only the rhetoric of the foolish Motta, and the fact that you are an outsider, that made us abandon you before."
"Thanks, but what can I do? Vaud's got the guns, most of the men, and all the women and children. You might as well make your peace with him."
"Excuse me, but that's impossible. When we were in process of paddling away, he stood on the shore and commanded us to return and submit. He menaced us that if we refused, he would never receive us but would have us shot at first view.
One of us hurled an insult, and Vaud tried to pull a musket at us. He did not know how to make it work well, so he missed. But he has made his sentiments evident."
"Well, what then?"
"We want you to lead us. You have already accomplished the impossible, and you can do it again."
There didn't seem anything to do, though. I walked far up the beach to think. Night attacks — surprise attacks — psycho-' logical offensives — guerilla warfare — all the rest of it.
My predicament was complicated by the fact that I didn't really want to kill Activists. It was easy to work up a battle lust against the Cimbrians, who are another species. No doubt they felt the same about us. And I certainly didn't want any women or children killed. Or Adrienne.
I started to sit down on a log; then flinched at the memory of my sting. I looked at the log. No vespoid; but the memory started a train of thought.
Three nights later, before dawn, we paddled up to the shore of Nouvelle-Arcadie, not at Elysée but a few hundred yards north of it.
We climbed ashore looking like spooks from a Gothic novel. Each wore a coverall, a bag with eye holes over his head, goggles over the bags, more bags on his feet, and work gloves. The gloves, goggles, and coveralls we had borrowed from the tender's stores, as they were not weapons. The bags we made. Most of us carried our usual wicker shields and hand weapons, but eight had large cloth bags tied shut. These bags buzzed ominously when jostled.
Carefully carrying our bags, we crept through the woods. The sky had begun to lighten when we sighted the camp. They had a sentry pacing the beach but hadn't thought to watch the landward side. Because of the lack of large animals on the island, Elysée had never been walled.
We crept up to the edge of the fields. I passed the word, when we were drawn up in a line, to walk briskly towards the village until we were discovered, then to run. We started.