L.P.M. : The End of the Great WarBarney, J. Stewart (John Stewart)
Science
L.P.M. : The End of the Great War
Barney, J. Stewart (John Stewart)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
By this time they had gotten to the roof, where they found Black,
Stanton, and James eagerly awaiting them.
“Where is Fred?” asked Black, noting his absence as the other two
stepped out to join them.
“Dead by God!” Lawrence started again to become hysterical. “That devil,
Count von Hemelstein, killed him!”
“Shut up, Lawrence!” broke in Edestone sharply. “Cut out that swearing
and get to work. We have no time to lose.”
In the same quick, authoritative tone, he issued his orders to the
others, as they stood staring at the news, each in his different way
showing his breeding. Black was commencing to whine; Stanton with a
scowl of rage was in sympathy with Lawrence; while James, demonstrating
his years of training, stood statue-like with hand behind his back,
leaning forward as if to catch his master’s next order, and carry it out
with perfect decorum.
“Have you locked the door at the foot of the stairs? Ah! That is good!”
he exclaimed, as he saw that they had barricaded the door of the
bulkhead by putting a piece of timber between it and the coping around
one of the skylights.
It had grown quite dark in the interval, but in the glare of the great
searchlights which were playing upon her he could plainly see above him
the Little Peace Maker which had swung into a position directly over the
Embassy, and was now slowly descending.
She was not over a thousand feet above the roof as she hung there, three
of her great searchlights bearing steadily on three different points in
the city, and giving to her the aspect of an enormous spyglass standing
on its gigantic tripod, and by its own weight forcing the feet of the
tripod into the soft earth, as the ship slowly settled.
Shrapnel shells were exploding all about her, and at times she was
almost entirely enveloped in smoke. Between the reports of the heavier
artillery could be heard the staccato spatter of bullets on her iron
sides as the machine-guns sprayed her from end to end. Now and then one
of the gunners would reach one of her searchlights, and as the ray was
extinguished, one almost expected to see her topple in the direction of
her broken support, but in each case it was quickly replaced by another,
and she continued to drop nearer and nearer to the earth.
Excepting for the searchlights there was no sign of life on
board. Silently and without response of any kind, she came. But as she
approached nearer, and the angle of the German guns was still further
reduced, although they must already have been doing frightful damage in
all parts of the city, the shrapnel and small bullets could be heard
screaming over the heads of the little party on the roof.
“It is getting pretty hot here, and we had better lie down,” Edestone
said. But the words were hardly out of his mouth before Stanton fell
with a bullet in his head, and James sat down, probably more abruptly
than he had ever done anything before in all his life.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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