The Swoop! or, How Clarence Saved England: A Tale of the Great Invasion

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  THE SWOOP!

  or

  How Clarence Saved England

  _A Tale of the Great Invasion_

  by P. G. Wodehouse

  1909

  PREFACE

  It may be thought by some that in the pages which follow I have paintedin too lurid colours the horrors of a foreign invasion of England.Realism in art, it may be argued, can be carried too far. I prefer tothink that the majority of my readers will acquit me of a desire to beunduly sensational. It is necessary that England should be roused to asense of her peril, and only by setting down without flinching theprobable results of an invasion can this be done. This story, I maymention, has been written and published purely from a feeling ofpatriotism and duty. Mr. Alston Rivers' sensitive soul will be jarredto its foundations if it is a financial success. So will mine. But in atime of national danger we feel that the risk must be taken. After all,at the worst, it is a small sacrifice to make for our country.

  P. G. WODEHOUSE.

  _The Bomb-Proof Shelter,_ _London, W._

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  AN ENGLISH BOY'S HOME

  _August the First, 19--_

  Clarence Chugwater looked around him with a frown, and gritted histeeth.

  "England--my England!" he moaned.

  Clarence was a sturdy lad of some fourteen summers. He was neatly, butnot gaudily, dressed in a flat-brimmed hat, a coloured handkerchief, aflannel shirt, a bunch of ribbons, a haversack, football shorts, brownboots, a whistle, and a hockey-stick. He was, in fact, one of GeneralBaden-Powell's Boy Scouts.

  Scan him closely. Do not dismiss him with a passing glance; for you arelooking at the Boy of Destiny, at Clarence MacAndrew Chugwater, whosaved England.

  To-day those features are familiar to all. Everyone has seen theChugwater Column in Aldwych, the equestrian statue in Chugwater Road(formerly Piccadilly), and the picture-postcards in the stationers'windows. That bulging forehead, distended with useful information; thatmassive chin; those eyes, gleaming behind their spectacles; that_tout ensemble_; that _je ne sais quoi_.

  In a word, Clarence!

  He could do everything that the Boy Scout must learn to do. He couldlow like a bull. He could gurgle like a wood-pigeon. He could imitatethe cry of the turnip in order to deceive rabbits. He could smile andwhistle simultaneously in accordance with Rule 8 (and only those whohave tried this know how difficult it is). He could spoor, fell trees,tell the character from the boot-sole, and fling the squaler. He didall these things well, but what he was really best at was flinging thesqualer.

  * * * * *

  Clarence, on this sultry August afternoon, was tensely occupiedtracking the family cat across the dining-room carpet by itsfoot-prints. Glancing up for a moment, he caught sight of the othermembers of the family.

  "England, my England!" he moaned.

  It was indeed a sight to extract tears of blood from any Boy Scout. Thetable had been moved back against the wall, and in the cleared spaceMr. Chugwater, whose duty it was to have set an example to hischildren, was playing diabolo. Beside him, engrossed in cup-and-ball,was his wife. Reggie Chugwater, the eldest son, the heir, the hope ofthe house, was reading the cricket news in an early edition of theevening paper. Horace, his brother, was playing pop-in-taw with hissister Grace and Grace's _fiance_, Ralph Peabody. Alice, the otherMiss Chugwater, was mending a Badminton racquet.

  Not a single member of that family was practising with the rifle, ordrilling, or learning to make bandages.

  Clarence groaned.

  "If you can't play without snorting like that, my boy," said Mr.Chugwater, a little irritably, "you must find some other game. You mademe jump just as I was going to beat my record."

  "Talking of records," said Reggie, "Fry's on his way to his eighthsuccessive century. If he goes on like this, Lancashire will win thechampionship."

  "I thought he was playing for Somerset," said Horace.

  "That was a fortnight ago. You ought to keep up to date in an importantsubject like cricket."

  Once more Clarence snorted bitterly.

  "I'm sure you ought not to be down on the floor, Clarence," said Mr.Chugwater anxiously. "It is so draughty, and you have evidently got anasty cold. _Must_ you lie on the floor?"

  "I am spooring," said Clarence with simple dignity.

  "But I'm sure you can spoor better sitting on a chair with a nicebook."

  "_I_ think the kid's sickening for something," put in Horacecritically. "He's deuced roopy. What's up, Clarry?"

  "I was thinking," said Clarence, "of my country--of England."

  "What's the matter with England?"

  "_She's_ all right," murmured Ralph Peabody.

  "My fallen country!" sighed Clarence, a not unmanly tear bedewing theglasses of his spectacles. "My fallen, stricken country!"

  "That kid," said Reggie, laying down his paper, "is talking rightthrough his hat. My dear old son, are you aware that England has neverbeen so strong all round as she is now? Do you _ever_ read thepapers? Don't you know that we've got the Ashes and the GolfChampionship, and the Wibbley-wob Championship, and the Spiropole,Spillikins, Puff-Feather, and Animal Grab Championships? Has it come toyour notice that our croquet pair beat America last Thursday by eighthoops? Did you happen to hear that we won the Hop-skip-and-jump at thelast Olympic Games? You've been out in the woods, old sport."

  Clarence's heart was too full for words. He rose in silence, andquitted the room.

  "Got the pip or something!" said Reggie. "Rum kid! I say, Hirst'sbowling well! Five for twenty-three so far!"

  Clarence wandered moodily out of the house. The Chugwaters lived in adesirable villa residence, which Mr. Chugwater had built in Essex. Itwas a typical Englishman's Home. Its name was Nasturtium Villa.

  As Clarence walked down the road, the excited voice of a newspaper-boycame to him. Presently the boy turned the corner, shouting, "Ker-lapseof Surrey! Sensational bowling at the Oval!"

  He stopped on seeing Clarence.

  "Paper, General?"

  Clarence shook his head. Then he uttered a startled exclamation, forhis eye had fallen on the poster.

  It ran as follows:--

  SURREY DOING BADLY GERMAN ARMY LANDS IN ENGLAND

  Chapter 2

  THE INVADERS

  Clarence flung the boy a halfpenny, tore a paper from his grasp, andscanned it eagerly. There was nothing to interest him in the body ofthe journal, but he found what he was looking for in the stop-pressspace. "Stop press news," said the paper. "Fry not out, 104. Surrey 147for 8. A German army landed in Essex this afternoon. LoamshireHandicap: Spring Chicken, 1; Salome, 2; Yip-i-addy, 3. Seven ran."

  Essex! Then at any moment the foe might be at their doors; more, insidetheir doors. With a passionate cry, Clarence tore back to the house.

  He entered the dining-room with the speed of a highly-trained Marathonwinner, just in time once more to prevent Mr. Chugwater lowering hisrecord.

  "The Germans!" shouted Clarence. "We are invaded!"

  This time Mr. Chugwater was really annoyed.

  "If I have told you once about your detestable habit of shouting in thehouse, Clarence, I have told you a hundred times. If you cannot be aBoy Scout quietly, you must stop being one altogether. I had got up tosix that time."

  "But, father----"

  "Silence! You will go to bed this minute; and I shall consider thequestion whether you are to have any supper. It
will depend largely onyour behaviour between now and then. Go!"

  "But, father----"

  Clarence dropped the paper, shaken with emotion. Mr. Chugwater'ssternness deepened visibly.

  "Clarence! Must I speak again?"

  He stooped and removed his right slipper.

  Clarence withdrew.

  Reggie picked up the paper.

  "That kid," he announced judicially, "is off his nut! Hullo! I told youso! Fry not out, 104. Good old Charles!"

  "I say," exclaimed Horace, who sat nearest the window, "there are tworummy-looking chaps coming to the front door, wearing a sort of fancydress!"

  "It must be the Germans," said Reggie. "The paper says they landed herethis afternoon. I expect----"

  A thunderous knock rang through the house. The family looked at oneanother. Voices were heard in the hall, and next moment the door openedand the servant announced "Mr. Prinsotto and Mr. Aydycong."

  "Or, rather," said the first of the two newcomers, a tall, bearded,soldierly man, in perfect English, "Prince Otto of Saxe-Pfennig andCaptain the Graf von Poppenheim, his aide-de-camp."

  "Just so--just so!" said Mr. Chugwater, affably. "Sit down, won't you?"

  The visitors seated themselves. There was an awkward silence.

  "Warm day!" said Mr. Chugwater.

  "Very!" said the Prince, a little constrainedly.

  "Perhaps a cup of tea? Have you come far?"

  "Well--er--pretty far. That is to say, a certain distance. In fact,from Germany."

  "I spent my summer holiday last year at Dresden. Capital place!"

  "Just so. The fact is, Mr.--er--"

  "Chugwater. By the way--my wife, Mrs. Chugwater."

  The prince bowed. So did his aide-de-camp.

  "The fact is, Mr. Jugwater," resumed the prince, "we are not here on aholiday."

  "Quite so, quite so. Business before pleasure."

  The prince pulled at his moustache. So did his aide-de-camp, who seemedto be a man of but little initiative and conversational resource.

  "We are invaders."

  "Not at all, not at all," protested Mr. Chugwater.

  "I must warn you that you will resist at your peril. You wear nouniform--"

  "Wouldn't dream of such a thing. Except at the lodge, of course."

  "You will be sorely tempted, no doubt. Do not think that I do notappreciate your feelings. This is an Englishman's Home."

  Mr. Chugwater tapped him confidentially on the knee.

  "And an uncommonly snug little place, too," he said. "Now, if you willforgive me for talking business, you, I gather, propose making somestay in this country."

  The prince laughed shortly. So did his aide-de-camp. "Exactly,"continued Mr. Chugwater, "exactly. Then you will want some_pied-a-terre_, if you follow me. I shall be delighted to let youthis house on remarkably easy terms for as long as you please. Justcome along into my study for a moment. We can talk it over quietlythere. You see, dealing direct with me, you would escape themiddleman's charges, and--"

  Gently but firmly he edged the prince out of the room and down thepassage.

  The aide-de-camp continued to sit staring woodenly at the carpet.Reggie closed quietly in on him.

  "Excuse me," he said; "talking shop and all that. But I'm an agent forthe Come One Come All Accident and Life Assurance Office. You haveheard of it probably? We can offer you really exceptional terms. Youmust not miss a chance of this sort. Now here's a prospectus--"

  Horace sidled forward.

  "I don't know if you happen to be a cyclist, Captain--er--Graf; but ifyou'd like a practically new motorbike, only been used since lastNovember, I can let you--"

  There was a swish of skirts as Grace and Alice advanced on the visitor.

  "I'm sure," said Grace winningly, "that you're fond of the theatre,Captain Poppenheim. We are getting up a performance of 'Ici on parleFrancais,' in aid of the fund for Supplying Square Meals to Old-AgePensioners. Such a deserving object, you know. Now, how many ticketswill you take?"

  "You can sell them to your friends, you know," added Mrs. Chugwater.

  The aide-de-camp gulped convulsively.

  * * * * *

  Ten minutes later two penniless men groped their way, dazed, to thegarden gate.

  "At last," said Prince Otto brokenly, for it was he, "at last I beginto realise the horrors of an invasion--for the invaders."

  And together the two men staggered on.

  Chapter 3

  ENGLAND'S PERIL

  When the papers arrived next morning, it was seen that the situationwas even worse than had at first been suspected. Not only had theGermans effected a landing in Essex, but, in addition, no fewer thaneight other hostile armies had, by some remarkable coincidence, hit onthat identical moment for launching their long-prepared blow.

  England was not merely beneath the heel of the invader. It was beneaththe heels of nine invaders.

  There was barely standing-room.

  Full details were given in the Press. It seemed that while Germany waslanding in Essex, a strong force of Russians, under the Grand DukeVodkakoff, had occupied Yarmouth. Simultaneously the Mad Mullah hadcaptured Portsmouth; while the Swiss navy had bombarded Lyme Regis, andlanded troops immediately to westward of the bathing-machines. Atprecisely the same moment China, at last awakened, had swooped downupon that picturesque little Welsh watering-place, Lllgxtplll, and,despite desperate resistance on the part of an excursion of Evanses andJoneses from Cardiff, had obtained a secure foothold. While thesethings were happening in Wales, the army of Monaco had descended onAuchtermuchty, on the Firth of Clyde. Within two minutes of thisdisaster, by Greenwich time, a boisterous band of Young Turks hadseized Scarborough. And, at Brighton and Margate respectively, smallbut determined armies, the one of Moroccan brigands, under Raisuli, theother of dark-skinned warriors from the distant isle of Bollygolla, hadmade good their footing.

  This was a very serious state of things.

  Correspondents of the _Daily Mail_ at the various points of attackhad wired such particulars as they were able. The preliminary parley atLllgxtplll between Prince Ping Pong Pang, the Chinese general, andLlewellyn Evans, the leader of the Cardiff excursionists, seems to havebeen impressive to a degree. The former had spoken throughout in pureChinese, the latter replying in rich Welsh, and the general effect,wired the correspondent, was almost painfully exhilarating.

  So sudden had been the attacks that in very few instances was there anyreal resistance. The nearest approach to it appears to have been seenat Margate.

  At the time of the arrival of the black warriors which, like the otheronslaughts, took place between one and two o'clock on the afternoon ofAugust Bank Holiday, the sands were covered with happy revellers. Whenthe war canoes approached the beach, the excursionists seem to havemistaken their occupants at first for a troupe of nigger minstrels onan unusually magnificent scale; and it was freely noised abroad in thecrowd that they were being presented by Charles Frohmann, who wasendeavouring to revive the ancient glories of the Christy Minstrels.Too soon, however, it was perceived that these were no harmless Mooreand Burgesses. Suspicion was aroused by the absence of banjoes andtambourines; and when the foremost of the negroes dexterously scalped asmall boy, suspicion became certainty.

  In this crisis the trippers of Margate behaved well. The MountedInfantry, on donkeys, headed by Uncle Bones, did much execution. TheLadies' Tormentor Brigade harassed the enemy's flank, and ahastily-formed band of sharp-shooters, armed with three-shies-a-pennyballs and milky cocos, undoubtedly troubled the advance guardconsiderably. But superior force told. After half an hour's fightingthe excursionists fled, leaving the beach to the foe.

  At Auchtermuchty and Portsmouth no obstacle, apparently, was offered tothe invaders. At Brighton the enemy were permitted to land unharmed.Scarborough, taken utterly aback by the boyish vigour of the YoungTurks, was an easy prey; and at Yarmouth, though the Grand Dukereceived a nasty slap in the face from a dexterously-
thrown bloater,the resistance appears to have been equally futile.

  By tea-time on August the First, nine strongly-equipped forces werefirmly established on British soil.

  Chapter 4

  WHAT ENGLAND THOUGHT OF IT

  Such a state of affairs, disturbing enough in itself, was renderedstill more disquieting by the fact that, except for the Boy Scouts,England's military strength at this time was practically nil.

  The abolition of the regular army had been the first step. Severalcauses had contributed to this. In the first place, the Socialists hadcondemned the army system as unsocial. Privates, they pointed out, wereforbidden to hob-nob with colonels, though the difference in theirpositions was due to a mere accident of birth. They demanded that everyman in the army should be a general. Comrade Quelch, in an eloquentspeech at Newington Butts, had pointed, amidst enthusiasm, to therepublics of South America, where the system worked admirably.

  Scotland, too, disapproved of the army, because it was professional.Mr. Smith wrote several trenchant letters to Mr. C. J. B. Marriott onthe subject.

  So the army was abolished, and the land defence of the countryentrusted entirely to the Territorials, the Legion of Frontiersmen, andthe Boy Scouts.

  But first the Territorials dropped out. The strain of being referred toon the music-hall stage as Teddy-boys was too much for them.

  Then the Frontiersmen were disbanded. They had promised well at thestart, but they had never been themselves since La Milo had beenattacked by the Manchester Watch Committee. It had taken all the heartout of them.