The Raid of Dover: A Romance of the Reign of Woman, A.D. 1940Ford, Douglas Morey
Science
The Raid of Dover: A Romance of the Reign of Woman, A.D. 1940
Ford, Douglas Morey
Imaginary wars and battles -- Fiction; Socialism -- Fiction; Women -- Suffrage -- Great Britain -- Fiction
Again she made an obedient sign; and Linton, guiding her, they moved
cautiously forward in the strange grey twilight which began to enfold
them.
Awe-inspiring sounds had been succeeded by a silence which was scarcely
less terrible. A sense of horror half paralysed their faculties as
they cautiously moved forward down the slope. Almost at their feet
had opened a chasm which revealed many solid blocks of masonry, such
as had been used of old in the construction of the Roman Baths. The
rending of the earth had exposed to view a section of what looked like
the foundations of an ancient and imposing temple. Between the massive
walls, at the bottom of some steps, they observed a narrow cell or
chamber, and as they stepped past the shadowy opening, Zenobia's foot
came into contact with an ancient Roman lamp.
Of these things neither of them was fully conscious at the moment. They
were mental photographs, vivid experiences unconsciously stored in
memory and fraught with a strange confirmatory significance not yet to
be appreciated.
Hand in hand, picking their steps apprehensively, they made their
way between the fallen trees down to the broad avenue leading to the
lower gate of the Park. Here, at the gate, for the first time they
encountered evidence of death and disaster in the town itself. Houses
had collapsed on every side; distracting moans and piteous cries from
unseen sufferers assailed their ears. For a moment they paused before
a monumental heap of stone and timber, impelled to render help in
answer to these vague but terrible appeals.
"We can do nothing," groaned Linton, in answer to Zenobia's questioning
pause. "Come," and he led her quickly round the wreckage of the houses.
Stumbling, half running, they made their way by a devious route down
towards the heart of the town. In Queen Square there was a frightened
crowd. Women and children, weeping and sobbing, were kneeling on
the roadway with hands upraised in prayer. Men came running towards
them shouting unintelligible warnings ... questions. Terrified faces
appeared at many upper windows. They saw a frenzied girl leap from the
parapet of a tottering house and disappear behind a heap of ruins.
In the lower streets the destruction wrought was less noticeable,
but a new terror was revealed. The sound of rushing waters reached
their ears, and every moment white-faced men and women tore past
them, crying in shrill tones: "The Spring! the Spring!" Then they saw
eddying streams of steaming, orange-tinted water creep round street
corners, overflow the gutters, and spread into the road. The water rose
so rapidly that they had to turn aside and once more take to higher
ground. They found themselves crossing Milsom Street, and as they did
so a loud explosion sounded at the upper end, accompanied with an
over-powering smell of gas. Screams rent the air, and another crowd
of men and women, some of them carrying children in their arms, came
rushing helter-skelter down the street.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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