"Middletown is run by a magical brotherhood. You will hear about white and black lodges, the right-hand path and the left-hand path. Believe me, there is no such sharp line. However, the Middletown Brothers would not allow themselves to be placed in a position where they would need to use the usual methods of black magic. Once you achieve body control you don't need that.
"There is no formal initiation into the Brotherhood. Initiation comes through dream guides. At the age of fourteen, when I began to have dreams that culminated in ejaculation, I decided to learn control of the sexual energy. If I could achieve orgasm at will in the waking state, I could do the same in dreams and control my dreams instead of being controlled by them.
"To accomplish sexual control, I abstained from masturbation. In order to achieve orgasm, it is simply necessary to relive a previous orgasm. So while awake, I would endeavor to project myself into sexual dreams, which I was now having several times a week. It was some months before I acquired sufficient concentration to get results.
"One day I was lying naked on my bed, feeling a warm spring wind on my body and watching leaf shadows dance on the wall. I ran through a sex dream like reciting my ABCs when suddenly silver spots boiled in front of my eyes and I experienced a feeling of weakness in the chest—the dying feeling—and I am slipping into my self in the dream and go off.
"Having brought sexual energy under control I now had the key to body control. Errors, fumbles, and ineptitudes are caused by uncontrolled sexual energy which then lays one open to any sort of psychic or physical attack. I went on to bring speech under control, to be used when I want it, not yammering in my ear at all times or twisting tunes and jingles in my brain.
"I used the same method of projecting myself into a time when my mind seemed empty of words. This I would do while walking in the woods or paddling on the lake. Once again, I waited some time for results. One day as I was paddling on the lake and about to put out fishlines, I felt the weakness in my chest, silver spots appeared in front of my eyes with a vertiginous sensation of being sucked into a vast empty space where words do not exist."
*
My time is divided between the library and the gun shop. The library is well stocked with books on weapons, fortifications, shipbuilding, and navigation and has also a large number of maps indicating the number of Spanish troops stationed in different locations, the nature of fortification, and the Spanish sea routes with approximate times when they are in use.
It often happens that quite practical inventions are for some reason not developed. Here are plans for a repeating gun with a number of barrels rotating by means of a hand-turned crank. A repeating gun is one of my dreams but first there is some basic improvement required in the gun itself.
Hans and I, wearing only shorts, are reading the same book, our knees touching. Here are plans for a grenade—simply a metal sphere filled with powder ignited by a fuse, and a mortar that shoots large grenades for a considerable distance. I feel a sudden quickening of interest and a prickling sensation in the back of my neck. Hans seems equally affected. He is breathing through his teeth, eyes boring into the paper as if he were studying an erotic drawing.
We look at each other and stand up, our shorts sticking out at the crotch. We strip our shorts and Hans grins and brings his finger up in three jerks. I prop the book against the wall on the far side of the desk and bend over a chair. As Hans fucks me, the drawings seem to come alive belching red fire and just as I go off, Chinese children set off a string of firecrackers against the door and I see a huge firecracker blow the library to atoms as a gob of sperm hits the book six feet away.
We sit down naked and Hans wipes his brow with one hand and says: "Wheeeeoooo!"
I say: "Firecracker! That's the basic exploding weapon. It's all here, but they didn't see how far it can be carried. Firecrackers ... they can be of any size. Why not exploding cannonballs? One such projectile could sink a galleon."
"Waring is expecting us."
Dink leads the way up a steep path. Waring's house is on top of a hill in grove of trees, concealed by vines. He receives us most cordially in a cool room furnished in the Moroccan style with a low table and settees. A tall aloof black serves mint tea, and Waring passes around a hashish pipe. Dink declines, since he never touches alcohol or any other drug.
At a sign from Dink, Waring gets up and leads us into his studio.
"While there is still light ..."
His paintings are unlike any I have ever seen, containing not one but many scenes, figures, and landscapes that flicker in and out of the canvas. I can see The Great White, Harbor Point, fleeting faces, islands, flying fish, and Indians rowing across the bay.
Back in the sitting room candles have been lit, and there is a partridge pie with flaky pastry and wild turkey tagine on a low table. I do not remember much of what was said during dinner.
At one point, Waring looked at me quizzically and said: "What you are doing is against the rules. Be careful you don't get caught."
It was quite late when we left. Back in the hut, Dink rolled out the pallet and I fell into a deep sleep.
In a dream I see Dink standing over me with the most perfectly formed erect phallus I have ever seen. Now he is fucking me with my legs up and as I wake up ejaculating, I find that he is fucking me. I can feel his face in mine and for a split second he disappears and I hear his fourteen-year-old voice in my throat: "It's me! It's me! It's me! I made it! I landed!"
We can hardly wait to get back to the shop and set all hand to work. In a week, we have several different devices ready for testing. I have made a number of arrows, the heads of hollow iron filled with powder; grenades, with a shaft to be launched from a flintlock rifle; several mortars; and a projectile for a cannon, designed to explode on contact. The nose of this projectile, which is not round but shaped like a short cylinder, is of softer metal packed with flint chips and iron filings so that, being violently depressed on contact with ship or rigging, it explodes the powder charge. Inside, the cylinder is lined with Greek fire—that is, pitch mixed with finely powdered metal, this being separated from the powder charge by a layer of paper.
The time is now ready for testing, There is a stranded ship two hundred yards off the coast a mile down from our station. We proceed to the testing site with our bows and rifle grenades, mortars, and one cannon. Everyone is there: Strobe, the Iguana twins, Nordenholz, even Waring.
Ten arrows and ten rifle grenades are dipped into the fire. Bow is drawn, the head ignited from a torch, and the arrow launched, the same procedure being followed with the rifle grenades, which are of course much larger. The missiles streak towards the ship and in a few seconds are exploding on the decks, in the rigging, and against the sides, starting fires from one end of the boat to the other. Then mortars are launched, and though some fall short or overshoot, those that land cause great damage.
Time now for the cannon: a perfect hit with a ten-pound projectile at the waterline. The explosion tears a gaping hole in the hull and wraps the boatside in fire. There is no doubt as to the deadly effectiveness of these weapons. We are congratulated by Nordenholz and Strobe and the Iguana twins.
Waring smiles and says: "Nice toys. Nice noisy toys to scare the ghosts away."