VIII: IN FATTISH WATERS
The island moved proudly up the Fattish channel, until they came within sight of the land on either side of it. Here was drawn up a great array of ships like those which had been destroyed in the Southern Seas. On the foremost of the ships were hoisted a number of little flags which Siebenhaar interpreted as saying:
“Good morning. Welcome home.”
Now, the fragmentary message recorded by the wireless gave the clue to the purport of this signal. There had been a great rally of the Fattish Empire, one colony had sent sacks of flour, another black currants, another black men, another brown sugar; all came to the aid of the motherland in her need, all forgot their grievances and vowed that they never would be slaves. In the face of such a demonstration no doubt as to whether the Fattish empire really existed could survive. Men who would not admit black, brown, or yellow men to their clubs welcomed them to their trenches. Such unity, such loyalty, such brotherhood, must lead to victory. But victory was slow in coming and it was becoming difficult to maintain interest in the war, when, suddenly, there burst upon the Fattish public the news that the lost island was responding to the call and even now coming to place its unique powers of motion at the service of the Emperor-King. The miraculous had happened. Once more it was obvious that the right was on the Fattish side. Once more the streets of Bondon were thronged as on the eve of the declaration of war. The map of the world with the red blot made by George Samways was taken down and copies of it were sold for the Imperial relief fund. It was supposed that George Samways, the only hero of the last war, was on the island and had induced it to return to the fold. His downfall was forgotten, his heroism remembered.
Ultimus stopped the island and entered into communication by wireless with the Fattish fleet.
“Is that Samways Island?”
“Yes.”
“Is George Samways aboard?”
“No. His son and his friend, Siebenhaar.”
“What nationality is Siebenhaar?”
“Fatter.”
“He must be taken prisoner.”
“Nonsense. He is an ex-engineer, now a philosopher.”
“Fatter philosophers are writing the most scurrilous abuse of the Fattish.”
“Siebenhaar has been for the last twenty years on the island.”
“Tell him to change his name before landing, or he will have to register.”
“We have no intention of landing.”
“We did not get your last message correctly.”
“We have no intention of landing.”
“Don’t understand. May we send a deputation?”
Ultimus replied:
“I will receive one Cabinet Minister and the most beautiful woman in Fatland. I shall be in the mouth of the river by two o’clock. You had better move your ships and be very careful of the backwash. I understand that the shores of the channel are strewn with wrecks.”
Frantic messages then passed between the ships and the Admiralty in Bondon. It would be extremely awkward to have the island in the river, blocking the channels to the port, but the public were thinking of nothing but the island, and, in default of George Samways, were quite prepared to take his son to be their darling. There must not be a hint anywhere of the possibility of the island’s being, after all, disloyal. The Fattish had been very reticent about their relations with God, whereas the Fatters had claimed him as their ally. The Fattish had been favored with miracles, even as the Children of Israel. It was decided to retain the miracle in the face of all risks and Mr. Samways was promised that a Cabinet Minister accompanied by the most beautiful woman in Fatland should call at four o’clock on the following day.
The fleet turned and steamed away out of sight.