More than one citizen, when he left his house to go to his accustomed work, looked up at the sky and wondered, with a sinking heart, how soon it would seem black with war.
A Dreadnaught For Every Effective American Ship
It was a peaceful, soft sky, with baby clouds sleeping on its bland, blue arch. It radiated a tranquil warmth of coming spring; and under it the Atlantic Ocean lay equally peaceful, equally soft, equally tranquil.
Yet even as the people of America were taking up the day’s work, under that soft, tranquil sea a message was darting through the encrusted cables that swept away all peace.
Before noon, from sea to sea and from lakes to gulf, from the valley of the Hudson to the sierras of the Rockies, from Jupiter Inlet to the Philippines, ran the silent alarm of the telegraph that the Great Coalition had declared War!
Forty-eight hours later the combined battle-fleet of the four Nations put to sea with its army transports, bound for the American coast.[6]
The United States learned of its departure before its rear-guard had well cleared the land. The news did not come from American spies. It came from the Coalition itself.
War, the Chameleon, as Clausewitz called it, was presenting a new aspect of its unexpected phases. Not a cable had been cut following the declaration of war; and now the submarine cables and the wireless began to bring official news from the enemy—news addressed not to the American government, but to the American people.
It was news that told of an invulnerable fleet carrying more than a thousand rifled cannon of the largest caliber ever borne by ships in all the world. It told of enough battleships alone (and named them) to match the Republic’s fleet with a dreadnaught for every effective American ship of any kind.[7]
“Clever!” said the Secretary of State to the President. “It is Terrorism.”