But now at last I was to see what had been hidden in that gigantic hull which we had towed all the way from Africa. And Una Persson's expression became eager as the hull was towed into position against the dockside.
'This is the result of what I was able to find in England, Mr Bastable,' she said in an excited murmur. 'An invention of O'Bean's that was regarded as too terrible ever to put into production, even at the height of the War. Watch!'
I watched, as the dusk began to gather. From somewhere inside the hull bolts were withdrawn, releasing the sides so that they fell backwards into the sea and forwards on to the dock. One by one the sections swung down until the contents of the hull was revealed. It was a ziggurat of steel. Tier upon tier it rose, utterly dwarfing the assembled machines which had already landed. From each tier there jutted guns which put to shame anything we had had on the Dingisivayo. On the top-most turret (the smallest on this metal pyramid) were mounted four long-snouted guns, on the second turret down there were six such guns, on the third there were twelve, on the fourth there were eighteen. On the fifth tier could be seen banks of smaller guns, perhaps a third of the size of the others, for use in close-range fire. There were about thirty of these. On the sixth tier down were some fifty similar guns, while in the seventh and bottom-most tier were upwards of a hundred of the most modern steam-gatlings, each capable of firing 150 rounds a minute. There were also slits in the armour plating all the way up, for riflemen. There were grilled observation ports in every tier, and each turret was capable of swivelling independently of the others, just as each gun was capable of a wide range of movement within the turret. The whole thing was mounted on massive wheels, the smallest of these wheels being at least four times the height of a man, mounted (I learned later) on separate chassis in groups of ten, which meant that the vast machine could move forwards, backwards or sideways whenever it wished. Moreover, the size of the wheels and the weight they carried could crush almost any obstacle.
This was General Hood's 'secret weapon'. It must have taken half the wealth of Africa and Europe combined to build it. There had never been any moving thing of its size in the world before (and precious few non-mobile things!). With it, I felt sure, the Black Attila was invincible. No wonder he had been prepared to sacrifice the rest of his invasion fleet in order to protect it.
This was truly a symbol of the Final War, of Armageddon I A leviathan released upon the land - a monster capable of destroying anything in its path - a steel-clad, gargantuan dragon bringing roaring death to all who resisted. Its gleaming, blue-grey hull displayed on four sides of each of its tiers the scarlet circle framing the black, rampant lion of Ashanti, symbol of a powerful, vengeful Africa - of an Africa which remembered the millions of black slaves who had been crowded into stinking, disease-ridden hulks to serve the White Dream - of an Africa which had waited for its moment to release this invulnerable creature upon the offspring of those who had tortured its peoples, insulted them, killed them, terrified them and robbed them over the centuries.
If justice it was, then it was to be a fearful and a spectacular justice indeed.
As I watched the Land Leviathan roll through concrete and steel as easily as one might crush grass beneath one's feet, I thought not merely of the fate which was about to befall America, but what might happen to the rest of the world, particularly Bantustan, when Hood had realized his plans here.
Having created such a beast, it seemed to me, he would have to go on using it. Ultimately it must become the master, conquering the conqueror, until nothing of the world survived at all I
Certainly that had been the logic of this world up to now and I saw nothing - save perhaps the ideal that was the country of Bantustan - to deny that logic.
I felt then that it was my moral duty to do anything I could to stop Hood's terrible pattern of conquest, but the assassination of one man no longer seemed the answer. In a quandary I turned away from the scene as night fell and the lights of the Land Leviathan pierced the darkness like so many fearsome eyes.
Miss Persson said something to me, but I did not hear her. I stumbled from the observation deck, my mind in complete confusion, certain that she and I might well be, in a short while, the last surviving members of our race.
3. THE DESERTER
It took five hours to crush New York. And 'crush' is quite literally the proper description. Hood's monstrous machine rolled at will through the ruins, pushing down the few towers which remained standing, firing brief, totally destructive, barrages into the positions of those who resisted. All the Negroes in New York, who had been fighting the whites well before we arrived, rallied at once to Hood's black-and-scarlet banner, and by noon the few defenders who remained alive were rounded up and interrogated for the information they could supply concerning other pockets of 'resistance' across the country.
Hood invited me to be present at one of these questionings and I accepted, hoping only that I could put in a plea for mercy for the poor devils who had fallen into Ashanti hands.
Hood was now dressed in a splendid military uniform -also black and scarlet, but with a considerable quantity of gold and silver braid and a three-cornered hat sporting the same ostrich plumes as his 'Lion Guard'. Hood had confided to me that such braggadocio was completely against his instincts, but that he was expected to affect the proper style both by his enemies and by those who followed him. He had a curved sword almost permanently in his right hand, and stuck into his belt, unholstered, were two large, long-barrelled automatic pistols, rather like Mausers. The prisoners were being questioned in what remained of the cellar of a house which had stood on Washington Square. They were wounded, half-starved, filthy and frightened. Their white hoods (there was some superstition which had grown up that these hoods protected them from the plague) had been torn from their heads and their uniforms, crudely fashioned from flour sacks, were torn and blood-stained. I did not, I must admit, feel any pride in these representatives of my own race. They would have been gutter-rats no matter what conditions prevailed in New York and doubtless it was because they were gutter-rats that they had managed to survive, with the ferocity and tenacity of their kind. They were spitting, snarling, shrieking at their Ashanti conquerors and their language was the foulest I have ever heard. Miss Persson stood near by and I would have given anything in the world for her not to have been subjected to that disgusting swearing.
The man who seemed to be the leader of the group (he had conferred upon himself the title of Governor!) had the surname of Hoover and his companions referred to him as 'Speed'. He was a typical example of that breed of New York small-time 'crooks' who are ready to take up any form of crime so long as there is little chance of being caught. It was written all over his mean, ugly, hate-filled face. Doubtless, before he elected himself 'Governor', he had contented himself with robbing the weak and the helpless, of frightening children and old folk, and running errands for the larger, mote successful 'gang bosses' of the city. Yet I felt a certain sympathy for him as he continued to rant and rave, turning his attention at last upon me.