A premonition of disaster through some subtle sixth sense had caused him at the last moment to issue the order for every man to remain on the ship. The sailors had pleaded in vain. They had turned in cursing their superior for a fool and a tyrant.
The explosions which wrecked the doors of the armories and paralyzed the traffic of the city found the Captain of the Pennsylvania awake, pacing her decks, unable to sleep.
When the division of the Imperial Guard assigned to storm the yard rushed it they ran squarely into the guns of the big gray monster, whose searchlights suddenly swept every nook and corner of the inclosure.
In ten minutes from the time they dynamited the gates and rushed the grounds the shells from the Pennsylvania were tearing them to pieces and incidentally reducing the Navy Yard to a junk heap.
When the Yard had been cleared, the Captain landed his marines, searched the ruins and picked up a wounded officer who in sheer bravado, cocksure of ultimate victory, gave him the information he demanded.
“Who the hell are you anyhow?” the Captain asked.
“Lieutenant Colonel Harden of the Sixty-ninth Imperial Guard of the American Colonies—”
“Colonies, eh?”
The young officer smiled.
“From tonight, the United States of America disappears from the map of the world. It will be divided between the kingdoms comprising the Imperial Federation of Northern Europe. England and France are yet poisoned with your democratic ideas. They have remained neutral, following your illustrious example in the world war. We don’t need them. Our task is so easy it’s a joke. You have my sympathy, Captain. You’re a brave and capable man. You would do honor to the Imperial Navy. You surprised me tonight. I was informed—reliably informed—that you and your men were celebrating the reign of universal peace—”