He was not so stupid as not to know that there were possible protectors
for her, if he could find them in time. Then he seized his stick and
hurried as fast as his tottering limbs would carry him to the nearest
field, where he knew the sailor, named John, or Jack, Carera, was
employed for the time among the peas and beans.
"Jack Carera!" he cried, looking wildly about him and flourishing with
his stick. "Jack! they are going to kill her! Jack--Jack Carera!--I
say," he repeated. "Where is Jack Carera? Call him, somebody. They are
going to kill her! They have taken my child a prisoner to the House of
Life. I say Jack--Jack! Where is he? Where is he?"
The men were working in gangs. Nobody paid the least heed to the old
man. They looked up, saw an old man--his hat blown off, his long white
hair waving in the wind--brandishing wildly his stick, and shrieking
for Jack. Then they went on with their work; it was no business of
theirs. Docile, meek, and unquestioning are the People.
By accident, however, Jack was within hearing, and presently ran across
the field.
"What is it?" he cried. "What has happened?"
"They have taken prisoner," the old man gasped, "the--the--Arch
Physician--and--Lady Mildred--They are going to try them to-day
before the College of Physicians. And now they have taken my girl--my
Christine--and they will try her too. They will try them all, and they
will kill them all."
"That shall be seen," said Jack, a fierce look in his eyes. "Go back
to the Museum, old man, and wait for me. Keep quiet, if you can: wait
for me."
In half an hour he had collected together the whole of the company, men
and women, which formed their Party. They were thirty in number, and
they came in from work in the Regulation Dress.
The sailor briefly related what had happened.
"Now," he said, "before we do anything more, let us put on the dress of
the nineteenth century. That will help us to remember that our future
depends upon ourselves, and will put heart in us."
This done, he made them a speech.
First, he reminded them how, by the help of one girl alone, the memory
of the Past had been restored to them; next, he bade them keep in their
minds the whole of that Past--every portion of it--and to brace up
their courage with the thought of it--how delightful and desirable it
was. And then he exhorted them to think of the Present, which he called
loathsome, shameful, vile, and other bad names.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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