hung this crow's nest, a clear thousand feet above the
roofs, a little disc-shaped speck on a spear of metallic
filigree, cable stayed. To its
summit Graham was
drawn in a little wire-hung
cradle. Halfway down
the frail-seeming stem was a light
gallery about which
hung a
cluster of tubes--minute they looked from
above--rotating slowly on the ring of its outer rail.
These were the specula, __en rapport__ with the wind-vane
keeper's mirrors, in one of which Ostrog had shown
him the coming of his rule. His Japanese
attendantascended before him and they spent nearly an hour
asking and answering questions.
It was a day full of the promise and quality of
spring. The touch of the wind warmed. The sky
was an
intense blue and the vast
expanse of London
shone dazzling under the morning sun. The air was
clear of smoke and haze, sweet as the air of a mountain
glen.
Save for the
irregular oval of ruins about the House
of the Council and the black flag of the
surrender that
fluttered there, the
mighty city seen from above
showed few signs of the swift revolution that had, to
his
imagination, in one night and one day, changed
the destinies of the world. A
multitude of people still
swarmed over these ruins, and the huge openwork
stagings in the distance from which started in times of
peace the service of aeroplanes to the various great
cities of Europe and America, were also black with
the victors. Across a narrow way of planking raised
on trestles that crossed the ruins a crowd of workmen
were busy restoring the
connection between the cables
and wires of the Council House and the rest of the
city,
preparatory to the
transferthither of Ostrog's
headquarters from the Wind-Vane buildings.
For the rest the
luminousexpanse was undisturbed.
So vast was its serenity in
comparison with the areas
of
disturbance, that
presently Graham, looking beyond
them, could almost forget the thousands of men Iying
out of sight in the
artificial glare within the
quasi-subterranean
labyrinth, dead or dying of the overnight
wounds, forget the improvised wards with the hosts of
surgeons, nurses, and bearers feverishly busy, forget,
indeed,' all the wonder,
consternation and novelty
under the electric lights. Down there in the hidden
ways of the anthill he knew that the revolution
triumphed, that black everywhere carried the day, black
favours, black banners, black festoons across the
streets. And out here, under the fresh sunlight,
beyond the
crater of the fight, as if nothing had
happened to the earth, the forest of Wind Vanes that had
grown from one or two while the Council had ruled,
roared
peacefully upon their
incessant duty.
Far away, spiked, jagged and indented by the wind
vanes, the Surrey Hills rose blue and faint; to the
north and nearer, the sharp contours of Highgate and
Muswell Hill were
similarly jagged. And all over the
countryside, he knew, on every crest and hill, where
once the hedges had interlaced, and cottages, churches,
inns, and farmhouses had nestled among their trees,
wind wheels similar to those he saw and
bearing like
vast advertisements, gaunt and distinctive
symbols of the new age, cast their whirling shadows and
stored
incessantly the
energy that flowed away
incessantly through all the arteries of the city. And
underneath these wandered the
countless flocks and herds
of the British Food Trust with their
lonely guards and
keepers.
Not a familiar
outlineanywhere broke the
clusterof
gigantic shapes below. St. Paul's he knew
survived, and many of the old buildings in Westminster,
embedded out of sight,
arched over and covered in
among the giant growths of this great age. The
Themes, too, made no fall and gleam of silver
to break the
wilderness of the city; the thirsty
water mains drank up every drop of its waters