One memorable Friday morning, exactly a fortnight after my call at
Wiltshire House, a rumour ran through the town to the effect that
Woolwich Arsenal had been destroyed. Knowing the precautions that were
taken at that splendid institution to guard against such a thing, the
report was at first discredited. It was soon found, however, to be only
too true. A terrific explosion had taken place, a large number of
employees had been killed and wounded, while the works, then so vitally
necessary, were placed at a complete standstill. The lamentable
occurrence was reported to the House by the Home Secretary that
afternoon, and, as usual, the authorities declared there was no clue to
guide the police in their search for the author of the dastardly deed.
It was in vain that questions were asked in the House; in vain that
public orators demanded of the authorities that they should exercise
more care in guarding their institutions; in vain that the man in the
street forwarded his theories, and suggested remedies, to the Press.
England had a mysterious enemy who could think as well as act, and who,
when he has finished his work, left no trace behind to lead to his
identification.
In consequence of the excitement caused by the last disaster, the guards
upon all the public buildings were doubled, no precaution was omitted
that wisdom could dictate, and then we waited to see where the next blow
would fall. In this fashion another fortnight went by, during which an
incident of no small importance occurred. Quite by chance an explanation
was forthcoming as to how the news of the series of disasters that had
been our portion in South Africa during the last few weeks reached our
shores. It was discovered that the cable, the only one then working, had
been cleverly tampered with, the wires milked, to use an American
expression, and a doctored version sent home for consumption. This was
corroborated by the mail reports, and despatches describing the course
of events in South Africa. Henceforth the most rigid precautions were
taken to guard against a repetition of this practice, and then once more
we sat down to wait.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account