Fools' Harvest. Erle Cox
expecting him."
"Why the Hawkesbury?" I asked.
"Well," Don drawled, "It appears, from information received, that some warped genius has blown up the railway bridge."
"Cut out the rotting, Don," I felt a little nettled. "What's it all about?"
Don was one of those exasperating men who adopt a pose of never being interested or moved by any event however unusual. He picked up a paper and glanced over it. "According to our correspondent at Brooklyn," he drawled, "at five ten this morning two spans at each end went sky high from their piers. That makes four spans out of seven—I should say the bridge is a washout,"
"Rot!" I exclaimed. "Why should anyone want to blow up the Hawkesbury bridge?"
"That, my young friend, is just what I have sent Max Peters, plus a photographer, to find out. Any objections?" He replaced the telegram on his table.
"It's a preposterous yarn," was my comment.
"Strange to say," replied Don, "I'm inclined to agree with you. So does Max for that matter. The language he used when I sent him out was enough to blow up the Harbour Bridge."
"Don't blame him," I said. "Did you ring The Dinker." The Dinker was our chief, and one who did not suffer fools gladly.
Don regarded me with a pained expression. "Wally, the Dinker is away hacking out divots on the Killara Club greens. Can you imagine what he would say if I called him in to tell him someone had blown up the Hawkesbury railway bridge? Be your age, laddie."
"It would be a bit thick," I laughed. "Anyway the evening rags will get the cream of it if it's true."
"My idea exactly," Don nodded, "so why worry?"
Just then Billings, who had left the room while we were talking, exploded back again. "Look here, Don," he barked. "I wish you would get one of the intellectuals to card the hide off the Water Board. The taps in the lay. are dry."
"'Orrible disaster!" sneered Don. "You don't wash and you never drink water. Body o' me! What you got to howl about? Go and buy yourself a beer!"
I left them to it. It was, I thought, thank goodness none of my business. It must then have been about 11 o'clock. What I did for the next half hour I cannot remember. I know I bought the talcum powder. The next thing I remember was that I was walking just below Hunter Street in George Street.
Then it happened.
The whole city seemed to tremble from one roar of explosion. It was a crash that drowned the roar of traffic for a second. I can still see how the entire pedestrian traffic stopped dead in its tracks. Every. one was staring a question at his neighbour. A young fellow close to me said, "Gosh! That sounds like a powder magazine!"
An older man, wide eyed, retorted, "Magazine be blowed! That was an air bomb, and a dashed big one, too. I heard scores of them in China last year."
Even as he spoke there came two more, almost together. A pause, and then crash! crash! a dozen times in succession followed by a prolonged roar.
Intuition, a pressman's instinct, something clicked in my mind, and connected the Hawkesbury bridge with the riot. There was a taxi passing slowly. I sprang on to the footboard, and shouted at the driver,
"Express office! Castlereagh Street! Drive like blazes!"
The whole city seemed rocking as I slipped in beside the driver. He went into Hunter Street on two wheels. The turn into Pitt. Street almost dislocated my neck. We were blocked for a minute at the Market Street turn, but I don't think it took much more than three minutes before I was going up the office stairs three steps at a time.
Don Ringfield was alone in the subs' room. For once his pose of indifference had dropped. His face was white, and he was speaking in jerks. As I broke into the room he held up his hand to silence my question.
I heard, "Yes! yes! Are you sure? Five squadrons of seven each! Yes! Both of them?" His eyes registered bewildered consternation. "You saw the marks? Positive it was a red diamond in a black square? Good God, no! They couldn't! Impossible!" There was a pause, and Don broke in again. "But Ted, that's crazy; they must have come from somewhere! Yes! Yes! All right! I'm afraid so! Ring again the moment you see anything!" He slammed down the receiver, and sat staring at me with a dead white face between his hands.
"For the love o' mike, Don, spill it!" I demanded.
"Wally," he said, and his voice was hoarse, "Unless my brother Ted has gone completely bughouse, thirty-five big monoplanes have blown in from nowhere, and blasted the forts at the Heads out of existence."
"How from nowhere? It sounds crazy."
"He says they came straight in from dead east. He saw them come. There is not a ship in sight on the horizon. They were flying low over the water, and only took elevation about a mile out. They seemed to know every gun emplacement, and fairly plastered them with bombs. Then they turned, and went back the way they came. He says there isn't a whole pane of glass left in Manly."
"Did you say a red diamond on a black square?" I said breathlessly.
He nodded.
"And that means—!"
"It does my boy, and it means there's a fleet waiting below the horizon, and we're for it." He sat drumming with his fingers on the edge of the table.
"That accounts for the Hawkesbury bridge," I muttered.
Don stared at me without answering. Then suddenly he jumped to his feet and exclaimed, "Great scot! the water! Do you know anyone in the Water Board Office?"
I grabbed the telephone and dialled as well as my shaking fingers would let me. I almost squealed with impatience at the delay in getting my man. When I heard his voice, I said. "Burton, Express here, Williams, what's the dope about there being no water in the taps?"
"How on earth did you hear about it?" the voice demanded.
"Come clean!" managed to laugh.
"Well, the 'Herald' has it, too! Every one of the 72 inch mains from Prospect Reservoir was blasted out in three places beyond the Liverpool Road early this morning. There's hell to pay here."
"Nothing to what there's going to be," I said as I hung up.
As I broke the news to Don he looked round the room, and said, "Well Wally, we're having a very nice day for it, whatever it may be. I suppose we carry on nobly—two blinkin' Casabianeas!"
"Rule me out for five minutes and then I'm with you." I picked up the telephone and dialled my home. Gwen herself, eager and anxious, answered. I cut short her excited questions about the explosions. "Listen, Gwen," I said earnestly, "Get the car out. Don't stop to pack, but throw anything you value that is small into the back seat. Take some milk and clothes for Bunty and yourself, and then get away as soon as you can. Go through French's Forest to Hornsby. Don't mind speed limits. Dodge back from Hornsby by the Galston Road to Windsor. Wait there, and I'll try to get to you."
"Wally, why?"
"Afraid the city will be bombarded. Don't go near it for a short cut. Don't go near it on any account. Have you any money?"
"Yes, about seven pounds, but what about you?"
"Don't ask questions. Get to it, join you as soon as I can. Promise, Gwen!"
"All right. But are you sure?"
"Hope I'm wrong. But hurry and don't talk." I cut her off to ensure her obedience.
Said Don as I turned round, "Thank God I'm a bachelor, and all my people are at Yass, except Ted."
As he was speaking, the 'phone rang again. He beat me in the grab for it.
I watched the tense expression on his face as he listened after saying, "Yes, Ted." It was his brother again. Presently he snapped "Can't you make out their number?" "Certain to be!" "Less than half an hour!" "God only knows." "I would if I were you." "Get while the going's good." He hung up and said, "There's a whole mob of ships coming