The Swoop! or, How Clarence Saved England: A Tale of the Great Invasion

by P. G. Wodehouse

  So that in the end England's defenders were narrowed down to theBoy Scouts, of whom Clarence Chugwater was the pride, and a largecivilian population, prepared, at any moment, to turn out for theircountry's sake and wave flags. A certain section of these, too, couldsing patriotic songs.

  * * * * *

  It was inevitable, in the height of the Silly Season, that such a topicas the simultaneous invasion of Great Britain by nine foreign powersshould be seized upon by the press. Countless letters poured into theoffices of the London daily papers every morning. Space forbids morethan the gist of a few of these.

  Miss Charlesworth wrote:--"In this crisis I see no alternative. I shalldisappear."

  Mr. Horatio Bottomley, in _John Bull_, said that there was somevery dirty and underhand work going on, and that the secret history ofthe invasion would be published shortly. He himself, however, preferredany invader, even the King of Bollygolla, to some K.C.'s he could name,though he was fond of dear old Muir. He wanted to know why InspectorDrew had retired.

  The _Daily Express_, in a thoughtful leader, said that Free Tradeevidently meant invaders for all.

  Mr. Herbert Gladstone, writing to the _Times_, pointed out that hehad let so many undesirable aliens into the country that he did not seethat a few more made much difference.

  Mr. George R. Sims made eighteen puns on the names of the invadinggenerals in the course of one number of "Mustard and Cress."

  Mr. H. G. Pelissier urged the public to look on the bright side. Therewas a sun still shining in the sky. Besides, who knew that some foreignmarksman might not pot the censor?

  Mr. Robert FitzSimmons offered to take on any of the invading generals,or all of them, and if he didn't beat them it would only be because thereferee had a wife and seven small children and had asked him as apersonal favour to let himself be knocked out. He had lost severalfights that way.

  The directors of the Crystal Palace wrote a circular letter to theshareholders, pointing out that there was a good time coming. With thisaddition to the public, the Palace stood a sporting chance of once morefinding itself full.

  Judge Willis asked: "What is an invasion?"

  Signor Scotti cabled anxiously from America (prepaid): "Stands Scotlandwhere it did?"

  Mr. Lewis Waller wrote heroically: "How many of them are there? I amusually good for about half a dozen. Are they assassins? I can tackleany number of assassins."

  Mr. Seymour Hicks said he hoped they would not hurt George Edwardes.

  Mr. George Edwardes said that if they injured Seymour Hicks in any wayhe would never smile again.

  A writer in _Answers_ pointed out that, if all the invaders in thecountry were piled in a heap, they would reach some of the way to themoon.

  Far-seeing men took a gloomy view of the situation. They laid stress onthe fact that this counter-attraction was bound to hit first-classcricket hard. For some years gates had shown a tendency to fall off,owing to the growing popularity of golf, tennis, and other games. Thedesire to see the invaders as they marched through the country mustdraw away thousands who otherwise would have paid their sixpences atthe turnstiles. It was suggested that representations should be made tothe invading generals with a view to inducing them to make a smallcharge to sightseers.

  In sporting circles the chief interest centered on the race to London.The papers showed the positions of the various armies each morning intheir Runners and Betting columns; six to four on the Germans wasfreely offered, but found no takers.

  Considerable interest was displayed in the probable behaviour of thenine armies when they met. The situation was a curious outcome of themodern custom of striking a deadly blow before actually declaring war.Until the moment when the enemy were at her doors, England had imaginedthat she was on terms of the most satisfactory friendship with herneighbours. The foe had taken full advantage of this, and also of thefact that, owing to a fit of absent-mindedness on the part of theGovernment, England had no ships afloat which were not entirelyobsolete. Interviewed on the subject by representatives of the dailypapers, the Government handsomely admitted that it was perhaps insome ways a silly thing to have done; but, they urged, you could notthink of everything. Besides, they were on the point of laying down a_Dreadnought_, which would be ready in a very few years. Meanwhile,the best thing the public could do was to sleep quietly in their beds.It was Fisher's tip; and Fisher was a smart man.

  And all the while the Invaders' Marathon continued.

  Who would be the first to reach London?

  Chapter 5

  THE GERMANS REACH LONDON

  The Germans had got off smartly from the mark and were fully justifyingthe long odds laid upon them. That master-strategist, Prince Otto ofSaxe-Pfennig, realising that if he wished to reach the Metropolisquickly he must not go by train, had resolved almost at once to walk.Though hampered considerably by crowds of rustics who gathered, gaping,at every point in the line of march, he had made good progress. TheGerman troops had strict orders to reply to no questions, with theresult that little time was lost in idle chatter, and in a couple ofdays it was seen that the army of the Fatherland was bound, barringaccidents, to win comfortably.

  The progress of the other forces was slower. The Chinese especiallyhad undergone great privations, having lost their way nearLlanfairpwlgwnngogogoch, and having been unable to understand thevoluble directions given to them by the various shepherds theyencountered. It was not for nearly a week that they contrived to reachChester, where, catching a cheap excursion, they arrived in themetropolis, hungry and footsore, four days after the last of theirrivals had taken up their station.

  The German advance halted on the wooded heights of Tottenham. Here acamp was pitched and trenches dug.

  The march had shown how terrible invasion must of necessity be. With nowish to be ruthless, the troops of Prince Otto had done grievousdamage. Cricket-pitches had been trampled down, and in many cases evengolf-greens dented by the iron heel of the invader, who rarely, ifever, replaced the divot. Everywhere they had left ruin and misery intheir train.

  With the other armies it was the same story. Throughcarefully-preserved woods they had marched, frightening the birds anddriving keepers into fits of nervous prostration. Fishing, owing totheir tramping carelessly through the streams, was at a standstill.Croquet had been given up in despair.

  Near Epping the Russians shot a fox....

  * * * * *

  The situation which faced Prince Otto was a delicate one. All his earlytraining and education had implanted in him the fixed idea that, if heever invaded England, he would do it either alone or with thesympathetic co-operation of allies. He had never faced the problem ofwhat he should do if there were rivals in the field. Competition iswholesome, but only within bounds. He could not very well ask the othernations to withdraw. Nor did he feel inclined to withdraw himself.

  "It all comes of this dashed Swoop of the Vulture business," hegrumbled, as he paced before his tent, ever and anon pausing to sweepthe city below him with his glasses. "I should like to find the fellowwho started the idea! Making me look a fool! Still, it's just as badfor the others, thank goodness! Well, Poppenheim?"

  Captain von Poppenheim approached and saluted.

  "Please, sir, the men say, 'May they bombard London?'"

  "Bombard London!"

  "Yes, sir; it's always done."

  Prince Otto pulled thoughtfully at his moustache.

  "Bombard London! It seems--and yet--ah, well, they have few pleasures."

  He stood awhile in meditation. So did Captain von Poppenheim. He kickeda pebble. So did Captain von Poppenheim--only a smaller pebble.Discipline is very strict in the German army.

  "Poppenheim."

  "Sir?"

  "Any signs of our--er--competitors?"

  "Yes, sir; the Russians are coming up on the left flank, sir. They'llbe here in a few hours. Raisuli has been arrested at Purley forstealing chickens. The army of Bollygolla is about ten
miles out. Nonews of the field yet, sir."

  The Prince brooded. Then he spoke, unbosoming himself more freely thanwas his wont in conversation with his staff.

  "Between you and me, Pop," he cried impulsively, "I'm dashed sorry weever started this dashed silly invading business. We thought ourselvesdashed smart, working in the dark, and giving no sign till the greatpounce, and all that sort of dashed nonsense. Seems to me we've simplydashed well landed ourselves in the dashed soup."

  Captain von Poppenheim saluted in sympathetic silence. He and theprince had been old chums at college. A life-long friendship existedbetween them. He would have liked to have expressed adhesion verballyto his superior officer's remarks. The words "I don't think" trembledon his tongue. But the iron discipline of the German Army gagged him.He saluted again and clicked his heels.

  The Prince recovered himself with a strong effort.

  "You say the Russians will be here shortly?" he said.

  "In a few hours, sir."

  "And the men really wish to bombard London?"

  "It would be a treat to them, sir."

  "Well, well, I suppose if we don't do it, somebody else will. And wegot here first."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then--"

  An orderly hurried up and saluted.

  "Telegram, sir."

  Absently the Prince opened it. Then his eyes lit up.

  "Gotterdammerung!" he said. "I never thought of that. 'Smash up Londonand provide work for unemployed mending it.--GRAYSON,'" he read."Poppenheim."

  "Sir?"

  "Let the bombardment commence."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And let it continue till the Russians arrive. Then it must stop, orthere will be complications."

  Captain von Poppenheim saluted, and withdrew.

  Chapter 6

  THE BOMBARDMENT OF LONDON

  Thus was London bombarded. Fortunately it was August, and there wasnobody in town.

  Otherwise there might have been loss of life.

  Chapter 7

  A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS

  The Russians, led by General Vodkakoff, arrived at Hampstead half anhour after the bombardment had ceased, and the rest of the invaders,including Raisuli, who had got off on an _alibi_, dropped in atintervals during the week. By the evening of Saturday, the sixth ofAugust, even the Chinese had limped to the metropolis. And the questionnow was, What was going to happen? England displayed a politeindifference to the problem. We are essentially a nation ofsight-seers. To us the excitement of staring at the invaders wasenough. Into the complex international problems to which the situationgave rise it did not occur to us to examine. When you consider that acrowd of five hundred Londoners will assemble in the space of twominutes, abandoning entirely all its other business, to watch acab-horse that has fallen in the street, it is not surprising that thespectacle of nine separate and distinct armies in the metropolis leftno room in the British mind for other reflections.

  The attraction was beginning to draw people back to London now. Theyfound that the German shells had had one excellent result, they haddemolished nearly all the London statues. And what might haveconceivably seemed a draw-back, the fact that they had blown greatholes in the wood-paving, passed unnoticed amidst the more extensiveoperations of the London County Council.

  Taking it for all in all, the German gunners had simply beenbeautifying London. The Albert Hall, struck by a merciful shell, hadcome down with a run, and was now a heap of picturesque ruins;Whitefield's Tabernacle was a charred mass; and the burning of theRoyal Academy proved a great comfort to all. At a mass meeting inTrafalgar Square a hearty vote of thanks was passed, with acclamation,to Prince Otto.

  But if Londoners rejoiced, the invaders were very far from doing so.The complicated state of foreign politics made it imperative that thereshould be no friction between the Powers. Yet here a great number ofthem were in perhaps as embarrassing a position as ever diplomatistswere called upon to unravel. When nine dogs are assembled round onebone, it is rarely on the bone alone that teeth-marks are found at theclose of the proceedings.

  Prince Otto of Saxe-Pfennig set himself resolutely to grapple with theproblem. His chance of grappling successfully with it was not improvedby the stream of telegrams which arrived daily from his ImperialMaster, demanding to know whether he had yet subjugated the country,and if not, why not. He had replied guardedly, stating the difficultieswhich lay in his way, and had received the following: "At once mailedfist display. On Get or out Get.--WILHELM."

  It was then that the distracted prince saw that steps must be taken atonce.

  Carefully-worded letters were despatched by District Messenger boys tothe other generals. Towards nightfall the replies began to come in,and, having read them, the Prince saw that this business could never besettled without a personal interview. Many of the replies wereabsolutely incoherent.

  Raisuli, apologising for delay on the ground that he had been away inthe Isle of Dogs cracking a crib, wrote suggesting that the Germans andMoroccans should combine with a view to playing the Confidence Trick onthe Swiss general, who seemed a simple sort of chap. "Reminds me ofdear old Maclean," wrote Raisuli. "There is money in this. Will youcome in? Wire in the morning."

  The general of the Monaco forces thought the best way would be tosettle the thing by means of a game of chance of the odd-man-out class.He knew a splendid game called Slippery Sam. He could teach them therules in half a minute.

  The reply of Prince Ping Pong Pang of China was probably brilliant andscholarly, but it was expressed in Chinese characters of the Mingperiod, which Prince Otto did not understand; and even if he had itwould have done him no good, for he tried to read it from the topdownwards instead of from the bottom up.

  The Young Turks, as might have been expected, wrote in their customaryflippant, cheeky style. They were full of mischief, as usual. The bodyof the letter, scrawled in a round, schoolboy hand, dealt principallywith the details of the booby-trap which the general had successfullylaid for his head of staff. "He was frightfully shirty," concluded thenote jubilantly.

  From the Bollygolla camp the messenger-boy returned without a scalp,and with a verbal message to the effect that the King could neitherread nor write.

  Grand Duke Vodkakoff, from the Russian lines, replied in his smooth,cynical, Russian way:--"You appear anxious, my dear prince, to scratchthe other entrants. May I beg you to remember what happens when youscratch a Russian?"

  As for the Mad Mullah's reply, it was simply pure delirium. The journeyfrom Somaliland, and his meeting with his friend Mr. Dillon, appearedto have had the worse effects on his sanity. He opened with thestatement that he was a tea-pot: and that was the only really coherentremark he made.

  Prince Otto placed a hand wearily on his throbbing brow.

  "We must have a conference," he said. "It is the only way."

  Next day eight invitations to dinner went out from the German camp.

  * * * * *

  It would be idle to say that the dinner, as a dinner, was a completesuccess. Half-way through the Swiss general missed his diamondsolitaire, and cold glances were cast at Raisuli, who sat on hisimmediate left. Then the King of Bollygolla's table-manners werefrankly inelegant. When he wanted a thing, he grabbed for it. And heseemed to want nearly everything. Nor was the behaviour of the leaderof the Young Turks all that could be desired. There had been some talkof only allowing him to come down to dessert; but he had squashed in,as he briefly put it, and it would be paltering with the truth to saythat he had not had far more champagne than was good for him. Also, thegeneral of Monaco had brought a pack of cards with him, and wasspoiling the harmony by trying to induce Prince Ping Pong Pang to findthe lady. And the brainless laugh of the Mad Mullah was very trying.

  Altogether Prince Otto was glad when the cloth was removed, and thewaiters left the company to smoke and talk business.

  Anyone who has had anything to do with the higher diplomacy is awarethat diplomatic language s
tands in a class by itself. It is a languagespecially designed to deceive the chance listener.

  Thus when Prince Otto, turning to Grand Duke Vodkakoff, said quietly,"I hear the crops are coming on nicely down Kent way," the habitualfrequenter of diplomatic circles would have understood, as did theGrand Duke, that what he really meant was, "Now about this business.What do you propose to do?"

  The company, with the exception of the representative of the YoungTurks, who was drinking _creme de menthe_ out of a tumbler, theMullah and the King of Bollygolla bent forward, deeply interested, tocatch the Russian's reply. Much would depend on this.

  Vodkakoff carelessly flicked the ash off his cigarette.

  "So I hear," he said slowly. "But in Shropshire, they tell me, they arehaving trouble with the mangel-wurzels."

  The prince frowned at this typical piece of shifty Russian diplomacy.

  "How is your Highness getting on with your Highness's roller-skating?"he enquired guardedly.

  The Russian smiled a subtle smile.

  "Poorly," he said, "poorly. The last time I tried the outside edge Ithought somebody had thrown the building at me."

  Prince Otto flushed. He was a plain, blunt man, and he hated thisbeating about the bush.

  "Why does a chicken cross the road?" he demanded, almost angrily.

  The Russian raised his eyebrows, and smiled, but made no reply. Theprince, resolved to give him no chance of wriggling away from thepoint, pressed him hotly.