He opened the papers and glanced at the editorial columns. It was as he feared.
A free press in America no longer existed.
Waldron was dictating every utterance from his tower on the heights of Manhattan.
Each paper earnestly appealed to all citizens to refrain from violence and make the best of their situation until intelligent advice could be given after a sufficient time had passed for reflection and conference with all parts of the nation.
Vassar mopped his brow and groaned.
“Well, boys,” he began, “we must give them credit for doing a good job. They don’t bungle, they don’t muddle, they don’t leave anything to chance. They’ve got us for the moment. There’s but one thing to do, submit—”
“No!—No!” came the angry growl.
Vassar smiled.
“Submit for the present, I was trying to tell you, until we can find the nucleus of an army to support. He didn’t mention our forts or our little army. They failed to get those forts from the rear and they’re intact. There are half a dozen battleships somewhere on the Atlantic side. The main fleet cannot reach us within a month. The Panama Canal has been blown up of course. But the ships that are here with two dozen efficient submarines and aeroplanes will be heard from before the army lands—”
“That’s the talk!” Benda cried. “We’re all Americans, signor!”