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Updated: June 19, 2025
A saner world would have perceived this patent need for a reasonable synthesis, would have discussed it temperately, achieved and gone on to organise the great civilisation that was manifestly possible to mankind. The world of Bert Smallways did nothing of the sort.
The essential fact of the politics of the age in which Bert Smallways lived the age that blundered at last into the catastrophe of the War in the Air was a very simple one, if only people had had the intelligence to be simple about it. The development of Science had altered the scale of human affairs.
It blew us right out of action at the rate of eighty miles an hour or so. Gott! what a wind that was! What a fight! And here we are!" "Where?" "In the air, Smallways in the air! When we get down on the earth again we shan't know what to do with our legs." "But what's below us?" "Canada, to the best of my knowledge and a jolly bleak, empty, inhospitable country it looks."
I want it put in the name of Albert Peter Smallways; that's the name I'm going to edop'. That's condition one." "Go on!" said the secretary. "The nex condition," said Bert, "is that you don't make any inquiries as to title. I mean what English gentlemen do when they sell or let you land. You don't arst 'ow I got it. See? 'Ere I am I deliver you the goods that's all right.
A bugle call rang through the airship. Kurt sprang to his feet, saying something in an excited tone, still using German, and went to the door. "I say! What's up?" cried Bert. "What's that?" The lieutenant stopped for an instant in the doorway, dark against the light passage. "You stay where you are, Smallways. You keep there and do nothing. We're going into action," he explained, and vanished.
So it was that Bert Smallways saw the first fight of the airship and the last fight of those strangest things in the whole history of war: the ironclad battleships, which began their career with the floating batteries of the Emperor Napoleon III in the Crimean war and lasted, with an enormous expenditure of human energy and resources, for seventy years.
All Europe was producing big guns and countless swarms of little Smallways. The Asiatic peoples had been forced in self-defence into a like diversion of the new powers science had brought them.
"What was that name?" he asked at last, putting away the tooth-pick; "I must write it down." "Albert Peter Smallways," said Bert, in a mild tone. The secretary wrote it down, after a little difficulty about the spelling because of the different names of the letters of the alphabet in the two languages. "And now, Mr.
And presently, to the great consternation of innumerable people, including among others Mr. Bert Smallways, it became apparent that whatever negotiations were in progress for the acquisition of this precious secret by the British Government were in danger of falling through. The London Daily Requiem first voiced the universal alarm, and published an interview under the terrific caption of, "Mr.
Schmallvays," he said at last, leaning back and resuming the stare, "tell me: how did you ket hold of Mister Pooterage's balloon?" When at last the Graf von Winterfold left Bert Smallways, he left him in an extremely deflated condition, with all his little story told. He had, as people say, made a clean breast of it. He had been pursued into details.
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