Meanwhile, Carswell began to describe his plans in more detail.
‘See the bus?’ he said. Thomas watched as Jud and half a dozen other men clambered over it, securing with ropes the mast structure that protruded through the roof. ‘Well, that will be our gunship on wheels. I’m going to fix four cannon to where the seats once where. Two at each side. They will fire straight out through the windows.’
‘You mean something like the pirate ships of old where the cannon fired directly out from the flanks?’
‘If you like. Fortunately, the artillery pieces of today are breech-loaders so it will increase the rate of fire.’
Sam jumped in. ‘And I take it those extensions at the sides of the bus and the Range Rover aren’t actually wings?’
‘No, although they do resemble wings, don’t they, Sam old boy? Why, you didn’t think I believed these vehicles would actually fly, did you?’
Sam shook his head and feigned a smile.
Carswell gave a cold laugh. ‘No, we won’t be flying into the attack against the barbarians, even though it is a charming idea. No, Mr Baker, those wing-like protrusions will carry the rocket pods.’
‘You mean we’re actually going to fire rockets from them?’
‘Of course. Rockets have been used by the British army since they were badly mauled by them in India in 1799. Naturally, they developed their own war rocket. One Sir William Congreve successfully developed a missile that had an explosive warhead and a range of several thousand yards.’
‘But they were something like firework rockets, weren’t they? Lit by a match? How do you propose to fire them from rocket tubes outside the bus?’
‘Ah, I’ll give you all a practical demonstration of that in a little while. But now you have an idea of how our gunship on wheels will actually work. The artillery guns mounted inside will deliver a heavyweight broadside with their 18-pound shells. Firing forward from the wing-assemblies – for want of a better description – will be 16 three-inch-diameter rockets, tipped with high-explosive warheads. The Range Rover will carry eight rockets. I also plan to pack the bus to the gunwales with soldiers wielding rifles and throwing grenades. Devastating firepower, hmm, gentleman?’
Sam rubbed his jaw. ‘But once the rockets are fired aren’t we going to have to withdraw to a safe place to reload?’
‘Yes, absolutely. We hit the barbarians hard as they come through the narrow pass between the cliff face and the river. Then we withdraw, reload, attack again. Those barbarian Bluebeards won’t know what hit them.’
‘I see,’ Thomas said, ‘that you have it all thought out.’
As Carswell painted a verbal picture of victory over the Bluebeards, more and more people stopped work to listen to him.
‘Now for a practical demonstration,’ he said. ‘Sam, you’re quite right. The rockets are little more than larger versions of the sort of firework rockets used by you on 4th July and here in Britain on Guy Fawkes Night: the fuses are normally lit by a match. That won’t be possible in the field. These rockets must actually be fired when the bus is moving forward, so…’ He waved his hand over a workbench on which was a metal dish. From the dish a pair of wires trailed to a battery. One of the wires lay loose on the workbench, still awaiting connection to its terminal.
‘Some people have been questioning why I have asked them to remove the glass casing from light bulbs. Well, here’s the reason.’ People formed a semicircle in front of the bench like students watching their lecturer perform an experiment.
Carswell smiled, enjoying the moment.
‘The light bulb makes light when an electric current is passed through a fine filament, causing it to glow white-hot. Reverend Hather, I take it you won’t be familiar with light bulbs since they won’t be invented for several more decades.’
Again the patronising tone, but Thomas merely gave a diplomatic nod.
Carswell continued, ‘Expressed simply, my idea is to remove the glass case from around the filament and insert the remainder of the bulb into the fuse end of the rocket with a small quantity of gunpowder. A cable connected to the bus’s battery via a switching arrangement on the bus itself runs out to the rocket. When the switch is pressed the electric current turns the filament incandescent, which in turn ignites the gunpowder, which in turn ignites the rocket propellant. A second later the rocket screeches from its firing tube to the target.’
There was an appreciative murmur from some parts of Carswell’s audience; already they were falling for the image of saviour-genius the man was projecting.
‘Now pay attention, please,’ Carswell said, waving his hand above the workbench. ‘Here is a battery. The wires are connected to one of the bulbs with the glass removed. I have placed the bulb into a small quantity of gunpowder in the metal dish. See what happens when I connect the wire to the battery terminal and send a charge of electricity down into the bulb’s filament.’
Carswell picked up the wire and brought the end into contact with the battery terminal.
People leaned forward to watch what happened in the bowl. The Reverend Thomas Hather shielded his eyes against the expected flash.
Someone put their hands over their ears.
Nothing happened.
Carswell brushed the bare end of the wire against the terminal. There was a clicking sound and Sam clearly saw the blue-white spark of the contact.
But no flash and no puff of smoke from the metal dish.
‘Let’s see, there must be some… ahm…’ Carswell lifted the bulb assembly from the bowl, blew it, checked that the wires were connected, then rested it on the small mound of gunpowder and brushed the wire against the battery contact again.
And again nothing happened.
Sam expected Carswell to make some excuse about a loose connection or a lack of charge in the battery, but suddenly he locked up as if every muscle in his body had gone into spasm. His face turned white, a sweaty dangerous-looking white; his eyes locked onto the dish of gunpowder with his light-bulb rocket trigger; for all the world he could have been a snake, its eyes transfixing a victim, ready to strike.
The silence became uncomfortable.
At last Jud cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps one of the wires inside the casing has cracked?’
Carswell didn’t appear to hear. The only thing that existed in his universe right now was the light bulb that had treacherously betrayed his great scheme. Veins stood out in his temples and neck, a tracery of purple cables beneath his skin that seemed to pulsate with pure boiling rage.
Without a word he marched out of the doorway into the yard.
A moment later someone said, ‘Well, they do say there’s a thin line between genius and madness.’
That was enough to break the tension. A couple of women even laughed, but it was high and scared-sounding. People drifted away to sit around the barn. No-one resumed their work.
‘What now?’ Jud asked. ‘Carry on without him?’
‘Or forget the whole stupid thing,’ a man said. ‘We could still just get out of town until all this is over.’
‘Through those blocked roads?’
‘Why not?’
‘One reason why not is that we’d have to leave the old, the very young and the sick. behind. They’d never make it through the hills on foot. It’s like the Arctic out there.’
‘Well, what’s the alternative?’
‘There’s only one course of action,’ Thomas said thoughtfully, while gazing at the open door through which Carswell had exited. ‘Someone has to go to Mr Carswell, eat humble pie, and persuade him to come back so he can complete what he started.’
Sam looked at Thomas. ‘You think Carswell’s plan will work?’
A grey-haired man laughed. ‘Did you see the man? He’s off his head.’