I was sympathetic. ‘It’s ironic how we hurt ourselves with our own power of invention.’
My friend looked at his watch. ‘We’d better get out of here.’ Taking a short cut between the rows of widely spaced seats, he led me from a side door out into the open air, then up to third deck. It was dark now. I heard a muffled shout from the wheelhouse and saw sailors busying themselves with ropes and chains below. The steam whistle sounded a long, low moan. There came a rattle and a massive shudder, then the great stern paddle smashed into the water. Electric light glittered on white foam. The boat’s machinery was engaged. Her boilers boomed and growled, her pistons squealed. Suddenly we were free of the wharf. We moved with slow majesty out into a dark infinity that was the Mississippi River. The lights of Memphis fell away from us as we sailed steadily into midstream. From other parts of the boat I heard the tramp of feet. At this Major Sinclair hurried me inside our cabin. The whole vessel was filled with that regular beat, positive and military. It kept time with the sublime rhythm of oiled brass, rotating steel and trembling iron. My friend picked up a small bag, asking me to bear with him for a short while. He would be back to collect me as soon as he could. I poured myself a Coca-Cola and sat on the bunk, considering the prospect of meeting the Governor and his staff. Deciding to steady my nerve with cocaine, I was just able to return the packet to my pocket as the steam whistle sounded for the second time. The marching sound died away entirely. The boat was silent again, save for the vibration of the engines, the steady splashing and groaning of the paddle. I was tempted to go out on deck, but respected Major Sinclair’s wishes. A few moments later the pale-faced aviator opened our door, apparently more relaxed than before. He had something tucked under one arm and his body was covered from throat to feet by a long, blue silky robe. Upon the breast of the robe, over his heart, was embroidered a yellow Maltese cross in a blue circle. It was identical, save for the colours, to the one on his airship.
‘Are you ready, colonel?’ His voice was low, as serious as it had been when he first asked me those mysterious questions and issued his equally mysterious invitation. My immediate response was of relief. I was not to undergo the ordeal of meeting the Governor after all. I was to be inducted into a Society of Free Masons, in itself a useful honour. The long gown rippled in the breeze from the river and looked incongruous on the tall flyer as he stood aside to let me out onto the deck. Against the darkness he might have been a householder roused from his bed and caught accidentally wearing his wife’s housecoat. At his request I followed him back down the steps to the lowest deck. The water was black and the banks invisible. We could be drifting in space as easily as on the river, save for the spray from the paddle. He opened a small metal door in the stern and we passed through into dim electric light. We were evidently in a dressing-room area, where the coons had once blacked-up before going out to entertain their audience. The place had a musty smell to it and I thought I could still detect stale greasepaint.
Then Major Sinclair had raised his arms over his head, pulling material down to obscure his face before opening a door. Light almost completely blinded me as he lead me out onto the stage.
I blinked, trying to get my bearings. Gradually I saw that the stage was illuminated by a gigantic cross consisting of hundreds of tiny bulbs. In front of me curtains had been drawn back. In the gloom of the auditorium, lit only by the great crucifix behind me, was a mass of variously coloured hoods and robes, each robe bearing the bold insignia of encircled cross, each right hand raising a clenched, gauntleted fist in salute. There were other robed and masked figures around me on the stage. It was one of the most inspiring moments of my entire life. I gasped. Like some ancient, saintly hero in the presence of the Grail I had to resist an inclination to fall immediately to my knees. I knew now I was in the presence of those legendary Knights of the Fiery Cross, the Freedom Riders who had saved their land from total chaos, who until now I had seen only in news photographs or, of course, on the screen in Birth of a Nation. My legs began to tremble. Sweat formed on my skin. From these satin hoods stared several hundred pairs of eyes, as if in judgment on me. Ich war dort! I was under the steady gaze of the warrior-priests of America, the highest officiaries of the famous Ku Klux Klan!
The sense of power emanating from the men in that room was tremendous. It was psychic energy so enormous I momentarily imagined that floating hall, unable to contain it, must burst like an exploding sun and bring sudden daylight to the shores of Mississippi and Arkansas. In the eery brilliance of the fiery cross, amidst the rustle of robes - white, green, grey, crimson, black and blue - and the growing murmur of deep, manly voices, Major Sinclair led me to a seat at the side of the stage. An impressive banner hung behind the cross, a flying dragon with the legend Quod Semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus, red and black, framed by an isosceles triangle. My senses were profoundly affected by all this and especially by the vibrant presence of the mysterious figure which now stepped forward, his shining purple outlined against the cross, a ripple of light and shadow. It dawned on me how tremendous a privilege had been granted me as it was sonorously announced that we were graced by the presence of the Imperial Wizard himself. Then the opening ritual began.
They bowed visored heads in prayer, led by the firm, musical tones of their Grand Kladd: a simple yet heartfelt plea to God to help them maintain and uphold at all times the most holy ideals of their Klan. The prayer completed, the Imperial Wizard raised flowing sleeves to bring complete and reverential silence upon the gathering.
‘All Genii, Grand Dragons and Hydras. Great Titans and Furies, Giants, Exalted Cyclops and Terrors, and all other citizens of the Invisible Empire, in the name of the Valiant and Venerated dead. I affectionately greet you and welcome you to this most Special and Secret Klonverse. Ye have been summoned from every Realm of our Empire on a matter of great and terrible import, to discuss the very future of these United States of America, to which ye have all sworn undying loyalty unto death.’
I remember only hazily the rituals which followed. There were chants and counter-chants, declarations and revelations, most of which were conducted in the secret language of the Klan. It was impossible to follow the cries of ‘Ayak!’ and ‘Akia!’ or ‘Kigy!’ and ‘San Bog!’, but the chant of The Klansman’s Creed will never leave my memory, for I was to hear it more than once in the time which followed.
I believe in God and the tenets of the Christian religion and that a godless nation cannot long prosper. I believe that a church not grounded on the principles of morality and justice is a mockery to God and to man. I believe that a church that does not have the welfare of the common people at heart is unworthy. I believe in the eternal separation of Church and State.