Part 35 (2/2)

”But who fired them?” said Bland. ”Who have you got who understands them? Those were big guns.”

”Malcolmson,” I said, ”always said he understood guns.”

”He does,” said Bland. ”If he'd shot just the least shade better he'd have sunk that s.h.i.+p.”

On the bridge we met McConkey, sweating profusely, taking his favourite weapon along at a rapid trot. He stopped when he saw us and halted his breathless team.

”I have her working again,” he said, ”and she'll shoot the now.”

”You're too late,” said Bland.

”Is she sunken?” said McConkey. ”Man o' man but I'm sorry for it. I wanted sore to have a shot at her.”

”She's not sunk,” said Bland, ”but she's gone. Steamed clean out of range of your gun.”

”I'd have liked well to have got to her before she quit,” said McConkey. ”Did you hear tell what she did with that sh.e.l.l she fired into the town?”

”No,” I said. ”Did it kill many people?”

”Sorra the one,” said McConkey. ”But I'll tell you what it did do.”

His voice sank to a hoa.r.s.e but singularly impressive whisper. ”It made flitters of the statue of the old Queen that was sitting fornint the City Hall. The like of thon is nice work for men that's wearing the King's uniform.”

Bland burst into a sudden fit of boisterous laughter.

”You may laugh if it pleases you,” said McConkey, ”but I'm thinking it's time for loyal men to be getting guns of their own when the Government is that thick with rebels and Papishes that they'd go shooting at the ould Queen who was always a decent woman, so she was, and too good for the like of them.”

McConkey's story was perfectly true. The solitary sh.e.l.l which was fired into Belfast fell just outside the City Hall. It injured that building a good deal; and it entirely destroyed the statue of Queen Victoria. It is a curious evidence of the amazing loyalty of the people of Belfast that many of them were more angry at this insult to Majesty than they would have been if the sh.e.l.l had killed half a dozen volunteers. McConkey was not by any means the only man who saw in the accident evidence of an unholy alliance between the Liberal Government and the men whom Babberly was accustomed to describe as ”Steeped to the lips in treason.”

CHAPTER XXIV

Bland and I stood together outside the City Hall and surveyed the shattered fragments of the statue. The sh.e.l.l must have exploded quite close to it, and I was immensely impressed at first with the terrific power of modern artillery. Then I began to think about the moral effects of the bombardment, and I saw my way to helping Bland in his profession. He had been very kind to me and very helpful. I wanted to do him a good turn if I could.

”This,” I said, ”is a magnificent opportunity for you. You'll be able to send off a telegram to your newspaper which will make your fortune as a correspondent.”

”I don't see that,” said Bland. ”If there'd been a little slaughter I might have made something out of it. But a statue! Hang it all! One statue is rather a poor bag for the British Fleet. The people are proud of their navy. They've spent a lot of money on it, and they won't like being told that it has. .h.i.t nothing but a statue, after a long morning's shooting.”

Bland had not grasped my idea. For a moment I was inclined to keep it for my own use and work it up into an article when I got time. But Bland deserved something from me. I resisted the temptation and gave him the idea.

”I wish,” I said, ”that I were a special correspondent. I'd--”

”Well,” said Bland. ”What would you say?”

”I should take that New Zealander who stood on the broken arch of Westminster Bridge and--”

”Macaulay's,” said Bland. ”I don't think that the public would stand him again. He's played out.”

”Not in the way I mean to use him. I should, so to speak, spiritualize him, and--”

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