Cæsar's Column: A Story of the Twentieth CenturyDonnelly, Ignatius
Science
Cæsar's Column: A Story of the Twentieth Century
Donnelly, Ignatius
Dystopias -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Science fiction; Social problems -- Fiction; Twentieth century -- Fiction
And then, several blocks away, but within the clear range of my
vision, a light appeared in the street--it blazed--it rose higher and
higher. I could see shadowy figures moving around it, heaping boxes,
barrels and other combustibles upon the flame. It was a bonfire,
kindled to light the work of building a barricade at that point.
Across the street a line of wagons had been placed; the tail of each
one touching the front of another, the horses having been withdrawn.
And then hundreds of busy figures were to be seen at work, tearing up
the pavements of the street and heaping the materials under the
wagons; and then shovels flew, and the earth rose over it all; a deep
ditch being excavated quite across the street, on the side near me.
Then men, lit by the red light, looked, at the distance, like hordes
of busy black insects. Behind them swarmed, as far as I could see,
thousands upon thousands of dark forms, mere masses, touched here and
there by the light of the bonfire, gleaming on glittering steel. They
were the men within the barricades. There was a confused noise in
other quarters, which I supposed was caused by the erection of a
number of similar barricades elsewhere. Then the tramp of the
marching masses past our doors ceased; and for a time the silence was
profound.
So far not a soldier or policeman had been visible. The Oligarchy
were evidently carrying out the plan of the Prince of Cabano. They
were permitting the insurgents to construct their "rat-trap" without
interruption. Only a few stragglers were upon the street, drawn there
doubtless by curiosity; and still the pale faces were at the windows;
and some even talked from window to window, and wondered what it all
meant.
Suddenly there was a terrific explosion that shook the house. I could
see a shower of stones and brick and timbers and dust, rising like a
smoke, seamed with fire, high in the air, within the lines of the
barricades. Then came another, even louder; then another, and
another, and another, until it sounded like a bombardment. Then these
ceased, and after a little time came the sounds of smaller
explosions, muffled as if under ground or within walls.
"They are blowing open the banks," I whispered to Estella.
Then all was quiet for a space. In a little while the bombardment
began again, as if in another part of the territory inclosed in the
barricades.
And still there was not a soldier to be seen in the deserted streets
near me.
And again came other explosions.
At last I saw the red light beginning to touch the clouds along the
eastern horizon with its crimson brush. The fateful day was dawning.
And then, in a little while, far away to the north, soft and dull at
first, but swelling gradually into greater volume, a mighty sound
arose; and through it I could hear bursts of splendid melody, rising
and falling and fluttering, like pennons, above the tumult; and I
recognized the notes of that grand old Scotch air, "The Campbells are
Coming."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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