A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
by Mark Twain
Chapter 43 - The Battle of the Sand Belt
IN Merlin's Cave -- Clarence and I and fifty-two fresh, bright,
well-educated, clean-minded young British boys. At dawn I sent an order to the factories
and to all our great works to stop operations and remove all life to a safe distance, as
everything was going to be blown up by secret mines, "AND NO TELLING AT WHAT MOMENT
-- THEREFORE, VACATE AT ONCE." These people knew me, and had confidence in my word.
They would clear out without waiting to part their hair, and I could take my own time
about dating the explosion. You couldn't hire one of them to go back during the century,
if the explosion was still impending.
We had a week of waiting. It was not dull for me,
because I was writing all the time. During the first three days, I finished turning my old
diary into this narrative form; it only required a chapter or so to bring it down to date.
The rest of the week I took up in writing letters to my wife. It was always my habit to
write to Sandy every day, whenever we were separate, and now I kept up the habit for love
of it, and of her, though I couldn't do anything with the letters, of course, after I had
written them. But it put in the time, you see, and was almost like talking; it was almost
as if I was saying, "Sandy, if you and Hello-Central were here in the cave, instead
of only your photographs, what good times we could have!" And then, you know, I could
imagine the baby googooing something out in reply, with its fists in its mouth and itself
stretched across its mother's lap on its back, and she a-laughing and admiring and
worshiping, and now and then tickling under the baby's chin to set it cackling, and then
maybe throwing in a word of answer to me herself -- and so on and so on -- well, don't you
know, I could sit there in the cave with my pen, and keep it up, that way, by the hour
with them. Why, it was almost like having us all together again.
I had spies out every night, of course, to get news. Every report made things look more
and more impressive. The hosts were gathering, gathering; down all the roads and paths of
England the knights were riding, and priests rode with them, to hearten these original
Crusaders, this being the Church's war. All the nobilities, big and little, were on their
way, and all the gentry. This was all as was expected. We should thin out this sort of
folk to such a degree that the people would have nothing to do but just step to the front
with their republic and --
Ah, what a donkey I was! Toward the end of the week I began to get this large and
disenchanting fact through my head: that the mass of the nation had swung their caps and
shouted for the republic for about one day, and there an end! The Church, the nobles, and
the gentry then turned one grand, alldisapproving frown upon them and shriveled them into
sheep! From that moment the sheep had begun to gather to the fold -- that is to say, the
camps -- and offer their valueless lives and their valuable wool to the "righteous
cause." Why, even the very men who had lately been slaves were in the "righteous
cause," and glorifying it, praying for it, sentimentally slabbering over it, just
like all the other commoners. Imagine such human muck as this; conceive of this folly!
Yes, it was now "Death to the Republic!" everywhere -- not a dissenting
voice. All England was marching against us! Truly, this was more than I had bargained for.
I watched my fifty-two boys narrowly; watched their faces, their walk, their
unconscious attitudes: for all these are a language -- a language given us purposely that
it may betray us in times of emergency, when we have secrets which we want to keep. I knew
that that thought would keep saying itself over and over again in their minds and hearts,
ALL ENGLAND IS MARCHING AGAINST US! and ever more strenuously imploring attention with
each repetition, ever more sharply realizing itself to their imaginations, until even in
their sleep they would find no rest from it, but hear the vague and flitting creatures of
the dreams say, ALL ENG- LAND -- ALL ENGLAND! -- IS MARCHING AGAINST YOU! I knew all this
would happen; I knew that ultimately the pressure would become so great that it would
compel utterance; therefore, I must be ready with an answer at that time -- an answer well
chosen and tranquilizing.
I was right. The time came. They HAD to speak. Poor lads, it was pitiful to see, they
were so pale, so worn, so troubled. At first their spokesman could hardly find voice or
words; but he presently got both. This is what he said -- and he put it in the neat modern
English taught him in my schools:
"We have tried to forget what we are -- English boys! We have tried to put reason
before sentiment, duty before love; our minds approve, but our hearts reproach us. While
apparently it was only the nobility, only the gentry, only the twenty-five or thirty
thousand knights left alive out of the late wars, we were of one mind, and undisturbed by
any troubling doubt; each and every one of these fifty-two lads who stand here before you,
said, 'They have chosen -- it is their affair.' But think! -- the matter is altered -- ALL
ENG- LAND IS MARCHING AGAINST US! Oh, sir, consider! -- reflect! -- these people are our
people, they are bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh, we love them -- do not ask us to
destroy our nation!"
Well, it shows the value of looking ahead, and being ready for a thing when it happens.
If I hadn't foreseen this thing and been fixed, that boy would have had me! -- I couldn't
have said a word. But I was fixed. I said:
"My boys, your hearts are in the right place, you have thought the worthy thought,
you have done the worthy thing. You are English boys, you will remain English boys, and
you will keep that name unsmirched. Give yourselves no further concern, let your minds be
at peace. Consider this: while all England is marching against us, who is in the van? Who,
by the commonest rules of war, will march in the front? Answer me."
"The mounted host of mailed knights."
"True. They are 30,000 strong. Acres deep they will march. Now, observe: none but
THEY will ever strike the sand-belt! Then there will be an episode! Immediately after, the
civilian multitude in the rear will retire, to meet business engagements elsewhere. None
but nobles and gentry are knights, and NONE BUT THESE will remain to dance to our music
after that episode. It is absolutely true that we shall have to fight nobody but these
thirty thousand knights. Now speak, and it shall be as you decide. Shall we avoid the
battle, retire from the field?"
The shout was unanimous and hearty.
"Are you -- are you -- well, afraid of these thirty thousand knights?"
That joke brought out a good laugh, the boys' troubles vanished away, and they went
gaily to their posts. Ah, they were a darling fifty-two! As pretty as girls, too.
I was ready for the enemy now. Let the approaching big day come along -- it would find
us on deck.
The big day arrived on time. At dawn the sentry on watch in the corral came into the
cave and reported a moving black mass under the horizon, and a faint sound which he
thought to be military music. Breakfast was just ready; we sat down and ate it.
This over, I made the boys a little speech, and then sent out a detail to man the
battery, with Clarence in command of it.
The sun rose presently and sent its unobstructed splendors over the land, and we saw a
prodigious host moving slowly toward us, with the steady drift and aligned front of a wave
of the sea. Nearer and nearer it came, and more and more sublimely imposing became its
aspect; yes, all England was there, apparently. Soon we could see the innumerable banners
fluttering, and then the sun struck the sea of armor and set it all aflash. Yes, it was a
fine sight; I hadn't ever seen anything to beat it.
At last we could make out details. All the front ranks, no telling how many acres deep,
were horsemen -- plumed knights in armor. Suddenly we heard the blare of trumpets; the
slow walk burst into a gallop, and then -- well, it was wonderful to see! Down swept that
vast horse-shoe wave -- it approached the sand-belt -- my breath stood still; nearer,
nearer -- the strip of green turf beyond the yellow belt grew narrow -- narrower still --
became a mere ribbon in front of the horses -- then disappeared under their hoofs. Great
Scott! Why, the whole front of that host shot into the sky with a thunder-crash, and
became a whirling tempest of rags and fragments; and along the ground lay a thick wall of
smoke that hid what was left of the multitude from our sight.
Time for the second step in the plan of campaign! I touched a button, and shook the
bones of England loose from her spine!
In that explosion all our noble civilization-factories went up in the air and
disappeared from the earth. It was a pity, but it was necessary. We could not afford to
let the enemy turn our own weapons against us.
Now ensued one of the dullest quarter-hours I had ever endured. We waited in a silent
solitude enclosed by our circles of wire, and by a circle of heavy smoke outside of these.
We couldn't see over the wall of smoke, and we couldn't see through it. But at last it
began to shred away lazily, and by the end of another quarter-hour the land was clear and
our curiosity was enabled to satisfy itself. No living creature was in sight! We now
perceived that additions had been made to our defenses. The dynamite had dug a ditch more
than a hundred feet wide, all around us, and cast up an embankment some twenty-five feet
high on both borders of it. As to destruction of life, it was amazing. Moreover, it was
beyond estimate. Of course, we could not COUNT the dead, because they did not exist as
individuals, but merely as homogeneous protoplasm, with alloys of iron and buttons.
No life was in sight, but necessarily there must have been some wounded in the rear
ranks, who were carried off the field under cover of the wall of smoke; there would be
sickness among the others -- there always is, after an episode like that. But there would
be no reinforcements; this was the last stand of the chivalry of England; it was all that
was left of the order, after the recent annihilating wars. So I felt quite safe in
believing that the utmost force that could for the future be brought against us would be
but small; that is, of knights. I therefore issued a congratulatory proclamation to my
army in these words:
SOLDIERS, CHAMPIONS OF HUMAN LIBERTY AND EQUALITY: Your General congratulates you! In
the pride of his strength and the vanity of his renown, an arrogant enemy came against
you. You were ready. The conflict was brief; on your side, glorious. This mighty victory,
having been achieved utterly without loss, stands without example in history. So long as
the planets shall continue to move in their orbits, the BATTLE OF THE SAND-BELT will not
perish out of the memories of men.
I read it well, and the applause I got was very gratifying to me. I then wound up with
"The war with the English nation, as a nation, is at an end. The nation has
retired from the field and the war. Before it can be persuaded to return, war will have
ceased. This campaign is the only one that is going to be fought. It will be brief -- the
briefest in history. Also the most destructive to life, considered from the standpoint of
proportion of casualties to numbers engaged. We are done with the nation; henceforth we
deal only with the knights. English knights can be killed, but they cannot be conquered.
We know what is before us. While one of these men remains alive, our task is not finished,
the war is not ended. We will kill them all." [Loud and long continued applause.]
I picketed the great embankments thrown up around our lines by the dynamite explosion
-- merely a lookout of a couple of boys to announce the enemy when he should appear again.
Next, I sent an engineer and forty men to a point just beyond our lines on the south,
to turn a mountain brook that was there, and bring it within our lines and under our
command, arranging it in such a way that I could make instant use of it in an emergency.
The forty men were divided into two shifts of twenty each, and were to relieve each other
every two hours. In ten hours the work was accomplished.
It was nightfall now, and I withdrew my pickets. The one who had had the northern
outlook reported a camp in sight, but visible with the glass only. He also reported that a
few knights had been feeling their way toward us, and had driven some cattle across our
lines, but that the knights themselves had not come very near. That was what I had been
expecting. They were feeling us, you see; they wanted to know if we were going to play
that red terror on them again. They would grow bolder in the night, perhaps. I believed I
knew what project they would attempt, because it was plainly the thing I would attempt
myself if I were in their places and as ignorant as they were. I mentioned it to Clarence.
"I think you are right," said he; "it is the obvious thing for them to
"Well, then," I said, "if they do it they are doomed.
They won't have the slightest show in the world."
"Of course they won't."
"It's dreadful, Clarence. It seems an awful pity."
The thing disturbed me so that I couldn't get any peace of mind.for thinking of it and
worrying over it. So, at last, to quiet my conscience, I framed this message to the
TO THE HONORABLE THE COMMANDER OF THE INSURGENT CHIVALRY OF ENGLAND: YOU fight in vain.
We know your strength -- if one may call it by that name. We know that at the utmost you
cannot bring against us above five and twenty thousand knights. Therefore, you have no
chance -- none whatever. Reflect: we are well equipped, well fortified, we number 54.
Fifty-four what? Men? No, MINDS -- the capablest in the world; a force against which mere
animal might may no more hope to prevail than may the idle waves of the sea hope to
prevail against the granite barriers of England. Be advised. We offer you your lives; for
the sake of your families, do not reject the gift. We offer you this chance, and it is the
last: throw down your arms; surrender unconditionally to the Republic, and all will be
(Signed) THE BOSS.
I read it to Clarence, and said I proposed to send it by a flag of truce. He laughed
the sarcastic laugh he was born with, and said:
"Somehow it seems impossible for you to ever fully realize what these nobilities
are. Now let us save a little time and trouble. Consider me the commander of the knights
yonder. Now, then, you are the flag of truce; approach and deliver me your message, and I
will give you your answer."
I humored the idea. I came forward under an imaginary guard of the enemy's soldiers,
produced my paper, and read it through. For answer, Clarence struck the paper out of my
hand, pursed up a scornful lip and said with lofty disdain:
"Dismember me this animal, and return him in a basket to the base-born knave who
sent him; other answer have I none!"
How empty is theory in presence of fact! And this was just fact, and nothing else. It
was the thing that would have happened, there was no getting around that. I tore up the
paper and granted my mistimed sentimentalities a permanent rest.
Then, to business. I tested the electric signals from the gatling platform to the cave,
and made sure that they were all right; I tested and retested those which commanded the
fences -- these were signals whereby I could break and renew the electric current in each
fence independently of the others at will. I placed the brook-connection under the guard
and authority of three of my best boys, who would alternate in two-hour watches all night
and promptly obey my signal, if I should have occasion to give it -- three revolvershots
in quick succession. Sentry-duty was discarded for the night, and the corral left empty of
life; I ordered that quiet be maintained in the cave, and the electric lights turned down
to a glimmer.
As soon as it was good and dark, I shut off the current from all the fences, and then
groped my way out to the embankment bordering our side of the great dynamite ditch. I
crept to the top of it and lay there on the slant of the muck to watch. But it was too
dark to see anything. As for sounds, there were none. The stillness was deathlike. True,
there were the usual night-sounds of the country -- the whir of nightbirds, the buzzing of
insects, the barking of distant dogs, the mellow lowing of far-off kine -- but these
didn't seem to break the stillness, they only intensified it, and added a grewsome
melancholy to it into the bargain.
I presently gave up looking, the night shut down so black, but I kept my ears strained
to catch the least suspicious sound, for I judged I had only to wait, and I shouldn't be
disappointed. However, I had to wait a long time. At last I caught what you may call in
distinct glimpses of sound—dulled metallic sound. I pricked up my ears, then, and held my
breath, for this was the sort of thing I had been waiting for. This sound thickened, and
approached -- from toward the north. Presently, I heard it at my own level -- the
ridge-top of the opposite embankment, a hundred feet or more away. Then I seemed to see a
row of black dots appear along that ridge -- human heads? I couldn't tell; it mightn't be
anything at all; you can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.
However, the question was soon settled. I heard that metallic noise descending into the
great ditch. It augmented fast, it spread all along, and it unmistakably furnished me this
fact: an armed host was taking up its quarters in the ditch. Yes, these people were
arranging a little surprise party for us. We could expect entertainment about dawn,
I groped my way back to the corral now; I had seen enough. I went to the platform and
signaled to turn the current on to the two inner fences. Then I went into the cave, and
found everything satisfactory there -- nobody awake but the working-watch. I woke Clarence
and told him the great ditch was filling up with men, and that I believed all the knights
were coming for us in a body. It was my notion that as soon as dawn approached we could
expect the ditch's ambuscaded thousands to swarm up over the embankment and make an
assault, and be followed immediately by the rest of their army.
"They will be wanting to send a scout or two in the dark to make preliminary
observations. Why not take the lightning off the outer fences, and give them a
"I've already done it, Clarence. Did you ever know me to be inhospitable?"
"No, you are a good heart. I want to go and --"
"Be a reception committee? I will go, too."
We crossed the corral and lay down together between the two inside fences. Even the dim
light of the cave had disordered our eyesight somewhat, but the focus straightway began to
regulate itself and soon it was adjusted for present circumstances. We had had to feel our
way before, but we could make out to see the fence posts now. We started a whispered
conversation, but suddenly Clarence broke off and said:
"What is that?"
"What is what?"
"That thing yonder."
"What thing -- where?"
"There beyond you a little piece -- dark something -- a dull shape of some kind --
against the second fence."
I gazed and he gazed. I said:
"Could it be a man, Clarence?"
"No, I think not. If you notice, it looks a lit -- why, it IS a man! -- leaning on
"I certainly believe it is; let us go and see."
We crept along on our hands and knees until we were pretty close, and then looked up.
Yes, it was a man -- a dim great figure in armor, standing erect, with both hands on the
upper wire -- and, of course, there was a smell of burning flesh. Poor fellow, dead as a
door-nail, and never knew what hurt him. He stood there like a statue -- no motion about
him, except that his plumes swished about a little in the night wind. We rose up and
looked in through the bars of his visor, but couldn't make out whether we knew him or not
-- features too dim and shadowed.
We heard muffled sounds approaching, and we sank down to the ground where we were. We
made out another knight vaguely; he was coming very stealthily, and feeling his way. He
was near enough now for us to see him put out a hand, find an upper wire, then bend and
step under it and over the lower one. Now he arrived at the first knight -- and started
slightly when he discovered him. He stood a moment -- no doubt wondering why the other one
didn't move on; then he said, in a low voice, "Why dreamest thou here, good Sir Mar
--" then he laid his hand on the corpse's shoulder -- and just uttered a little soft
moan and sunk down dead. Killed by a dead man, you see -- killed by a dead friend, in
fact. There was something awful about it.
These early birds came scattering along after each other, about one every five minutes
in our vicinity, during half an hour. They brought no armor of offense but their swords;
as a rule, they carried the sword ready in the hand, and put it forward and found the
wires with it. We would now and then see a blue spark when the knight that caused it was
so far away as to be invisible to us; but we knew what had happened, all the same; poor
fellow, he had touched a charged wire with his sword and been elected. We had brief
intervals of grim stillness, interrupted with piteous regularity by the clash made by the
falling of an iron-clad; and this sort of thing was going on, right along, and was very
creepy there in the dark and lonesomeness.
We concluded to make a tour between the inner fences. We elected to walk upright, for
convenience's sake; we argued that if discerned, we should be taken for friends rather
than enemies, and in any case we should be out of reach of swords, and these gentry did
not seem to have any spears along. Well, it was a curious trip. Everywhere dead men were
lying outside the second fence -- not plainly visible, but still visible; and we counted
fifteen of those pathetic statues -- dead knights standing with their hands on the upper
One thing seemed to be sufficiently demonstrated: our current was so tremendous that it
killed before the victim could cry out. Pretty soon we detected a muffled and heavy sound,
and next moment we guessed what it was. It was a surprise in force coming! whispered
Clarence to go and wake the army, and notify it to wait in silence in the cave for further
orders. He was soon back, and we stood by the inner fence and watched the silent lightning
do its awful work upon that swarming host. One could make out but little of detail; but he
could note that a black mass was piling itself up beyond the second fence. That swelling
bulk was dead men! Our camp was enclosed with a solid wall of the dead -- a bulwark, a
breastwork, of corpses, you may say. One terrible thing about this thing was the absence
of human voices; there were no cheers, no war cries; being intent upon a surprise, these
men moved as noiselessly as they could; and always when the front rank was near enough to
their goal to make it proper for them to begin to get a shout ready, of course they struck
the fatal line and went down without testifying.
I sent a current through the third fence now; and almost immediately through the fourth
and fifth, so quickly were the gaps filled up. I believed the time was come now for my
climax; I believed that that whole army was in our trap. Anyway, it was high time to find
out. So I touched a button and set fifty electric suns aflame on the top of our precipice.
Land, what a sight! We were enclosed in three walls of dead men! All the other fences
were pretty nearly filled with the living, who were stealthily working their way forward
through the wires. The sudden glare paralyzed this host, petrified them, you may say, with
astonishment; there was just one instant for me to utilize their immobility in, and I
didn't lose the chance. You see, in another instant they would have recovered their
faculties, then they'd have burst into a cheer and made a rush, and my wires would have
gone down before it; but that lost instant lost them their opportunity forever; while even
that slight fragment of time was still unspent, I shot the current through all the fences
and struck the whole host dead in their tracks! THERE was a groan you could HEAR! It
voiced the death-pang of eleven thousand men. It swelled out on the night with awful
A glance showed that the rest of the enemy -- perhaps ten thousand strong -- were
between us and the encircling ditch, and pressing forward to the assault. Consequently we
had them ALL! and had them past help. Time for the last act of the tragedy. I fired the
three appointed revolver shots -- which meant:
"Turn on the water!"
There was a sudden rush and roar, and in a minute the mountain brook was raging through
the big ditch and creating a river a hundred feet wide and twentyfive deep.
"Stand to your guns, men! Open fire!"
The thirteen gatlings began to vomit death into the fated ten thousand. They halted,
they stood their ground a moment against that withering deluge of fire, then they broke,
faced about and swept toward the ditch like chaff before a gale. A full fourth part of
their force never reached the top of the lofty embankment; the three-fourths reached it
and plunged over -- to death by drowning.
Within ten short minutes after we had opened fire, armed resistance was totally
annihilated, the campaign was ended, we fifty-four were masters of England. Twenty-five
thousand men lay dead around us.
But how treacherous is fortune! In a little while -- say an hour -- happened a thing,
by my own fault, which -- but I have no heart to write that. Let the record end here.
The Celtic Hammer June 22, 1996