chap_5HILE Sam accepted the explanations of the editor and Jonas as expressions of wisdom from men who had had a far wider experience than his, he had some faint misgivings as to some of the business enterprises in which his new friends were embarked, and he hinted as much to Cleary."Some of those things do sound rather strange," answered Cleary, as they walked away, "but you must look at the world in abroad way. Is our civilization better than that of the Cubapinos?""Undoubtedly.""Well, then, we must be conferring a favor upon them by giving it to them. We can't slice it up and give them only the plums. That would be ridiculous. They must take us for better and worse. In fact, I think we should be guilty of hypocrisy if we pretended to be better than we are. Suppose we gave them a better civilization than we've got, shouldn't we be open to the charge of misrepresentation?""That's true," said Sam. "I didn't think of that."Yes," Cleary went on; "at first I had some doubts about that saloon business particularly, but the more you think of it, the more you see that it's our duty to introduce them there. It's all a part of our civilization.""So it is," said Sam. "And then people have always done things that way, haven't they?""Yes, of course they have.""Then it must be all right. What right have we to criticize the doings of people so much wiser than we are? I think you are quite right. As a correspondent you ought to be satisfied that you are doing the right thing. To me as a soldier it's a matter of no importance anyway, because a soldier only does what he's told, but you as a civilian have to think, I suppose, and I'm glad you're satisfied and can make such a conclusive case of it. What was it that the editor wanted you to tell me?"
HILE Sam accepted the explanations of the editor and Jonas as expressions of wisdom from men who had had a far wider experience than his, he had some faint misgivings as to some of the business enterprises in which his new friends were embarked, and he hinted as much to Cleary.
"Some of those things do sound rather strange," answered Cleary, as they walked away, "but you must look at the world in abroad way. Is our civilization better than that of the Cubapinos?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Well, then, we must be conferring a favor upon them by giving it to them. We can't slice it up and give them only the plums. That would be ridiculous. They must take us for better and worse. In fact, I think we should be guilty of hypocrisy if we pretended to be better than we are. Suppose we gave them a better civilization than we've got, shouldn't we be open to the charge of misrepresentation?"
"That's true," said Sam. "I didn't think of that.
"Yes," Cleary went on; "at first I had some doubts about that saloon business particularly, but the more you think of it, the more you see that it's our duty to introduce them there. It's all a part of our civilization."
"So it is," said Sam. "And then people have always done things that way, haven't they?"
"Yes, of course they have."
"Then it must be all right. What right have we to criticize the doings of people so much wiser than we are? I think you are quite right. As a correspondent you ought to be satisfied that you are doing the right thing. To me as a soldier it's a matter of no importance anyway, because a soldier only does what he's told, but you as a civilian have to think, I suppose, and I'm glad you're satisfied and can make such a conclusive case of it. What was it that the editor wanted you to tell me?"
"Oh! yes. I came near forgetting. You see what a lot they're going to do for us; now we must help them all we can. They want you to leave behind with them all the material about yourself that you can get together. You must get photographed at Slowburgh in a lot of different positions, and in your cadet uniform and your volunteer rig when you get it. Then you must let them have all your earlier photos if you can. 'Hero Jinks as an infant in arms,' 'Hero Jinks in his baby-carriage,' 'Hero Jinks as a schoolboy'—what a fine seriesit would make! You know what I mean. Then you must write your biography and your opinions about things in general, and give the addresses of all your friends and relations so that they can all be interviewed when the time comes. You'll do it, won't you? It's the up-to-date way of doing things, and it's the only way to be a military success."
"If it's the proper way of doing things I'll do it," said Sam.
"That's a good fellow! I'll send you a list of questions to answer and coach you as well as I can. I'm dying to get off and have this thing started. Isn't Jonas great? He's got just my ideas, only bigger. You see, he explained to me that in this country trusts have grown up with great difficulty, and it was hard work to establish the benefits which they produce for the public. They were fought at every step. But in the Cubapines we have a clean field, and by getting the Government monopoly whenever we want it, we can found one big trust and do ever so much good. I half wish I were a Cubapino, they're going tobe benefited so, and without doing anything to deserve it either. Some people are born lucky."
"I can't quite follow all those business plans," said Sam. "My head isn't trained to it; but I'm glad we're going to do good there, and if I can do something great to bring it about, it will give me real happiness."
"It will, old man, it will. I'm sure of it," cried Cleary, as he took his leave of Sam in front of the hotel. "Let me know what steamer you're going by as soon as you get orders, and I'll try to manage it to get a passage on her too. They often carry newspaper men on our transports."
On the following day Sam went to visit his uncle at Slowburgh, a small sea-port of some four thousand inhabitants lying several miles away from the railroad. The journey in the train occupied six hours or more, and Sam spent the time in learning the Castalian language in a handbook he had bought in town. He had already taken lessons in the language at East Point and was beginning to be fairly proficient. He alighted at the nearest stationto Slowburgh and entered the rather shabby omnibus which was standing waiting. Sam felt lonely. There was nothing military about the station and no uniform in sight. He no longer wore a uniform himself, and the landscape was painfully civilian. Finally the horses started and the 'bus moved slowly up the road. Sam was impatient. His fellow countrymen were risking their lives thousands of miles away, and here he was, creeping along a country road in the disguise of a private citizen, far away from the post of duty and danger. He looked with disgust at the plowmen in the fields busily engaged in preparing the soil for next year's grain.
"What a mean, poor-spirited lot," he thought. "Here they are, following their wretched plows without a thought of the brave soldiers who are defending their country and themselves so many leagues away. It is the soldier, suffering from hunger and fever and falling on the battlefield in the agony of death, who makes it possible for these fellows to spend their days in pleasant exercise in thefields. The soldier bears civilization on his back, he supports all the rest, he is the pedestal which bears without complaint the civilian as an idle ornament. The soldier, in short, is the real man, the only perfect product of creation."
And his heart was filled with thankfulness that he had selected the career of a soldier and that there never could be any doubt of his usefulness to the world. The only other occupants of the omnibus were two men—one of them a commercial traveler, and the other an aged resident of Slowburgh who had been at the county town for the day, as Sam gathered from their conversation.
"I don't suppose that the war has caused much excitement at Slowburgh?" asked Sam at last, introducing the subject uppermost in his mind.
"It ain't jest what it was when I went to the war," said the old man; "but there is a deal o' talk about it, and all the young men are wanting to go."
"Are they?" cried Sam, in delight. "Anddid you serve in the war? How very interesting! Did you offer your life for your country without hope of reward?"
"That's just what I did, young man, and if you doubt it, here's my pension that I drew to-day in town, twelve dollars a month, and they've paid it now these thirty-four years."
"That's a pretty soft thing," said the commercial man. "Better'n selling fountain-pens in the backwoods."
"A soft thing!" cried the old man, "I ought to have twice as much. There's Abe Tucker gets fifteen dollars because he caught cold on picket duty, and I get a beggarly twelve."
"Were you severely wounded?" asked Sam.
"Well, no-o-o, not exactly, tho I might just as well 'a' been. I was down bad with the measles. This is an ongrateful country. Here it is only thirty-five years after the war, and they're only paying a hundred and forty millions a year to only a million pensioners. It's a beggarly shame!"
"Were there that many men in the war?" asked the traveler.
"Pretty near it, I reckon. But p'r'aps in thirty-five years there'd be a natural increase. Think of it, a million men throwing away their lives for a nothing like that! I jest tell our young fellers that they'd better stay at home. Why, we've had to fight for what we've got. You wouldn't think it, but we've had to pass around the hat, and shove it hard under the nose of Congress, too, just as if we were beggars and frauds, and as if we hadn't sacrificed everything for our country!"
"It's an outrage," cried Sam sympathetically. "But I hope you won't keep the young men from going. I'm going soon, and perhaps the country will be more generous in future."
"Take my advice, young man, and whenever anything happens to you while you're away, take down the names of the witnesses and keep their affidavits. Then you'll be all ready to get your pension as soon as you come back. It took me three years to straightenout mine. Then I got the back pay, of course, but I ought to have had it before. I've got a claim in now for eight dollars more a month running all the way back. It amounts to over three thousand dollars, and I ought to have it."
"Was that for the measles, too?" asked the stranger.
The old man glared at his interrogator, but did not deign to reply.
"Our Congressman, old Jinks, has my claim," he said, turning to Sam. "But he doesn't seem to be able to do anything with it."
"He's my uncle," said Sam, fearing that he might hear something against his worthy relative.
"So you're George Jinks' nephew, are you? Are you goin' to be a captain? Do tell! I read about it in the SlowburghHeraldlast week. I'm real glad to see you. You're the first officer I've seen in ten years except the recruiting officer last week."
"Did they have a recruiting officer here, in Slowburgh?" asked Sam.
"Yes, they did, and there was thirteen fellers wanted to go, but he only took five of 'em, and they hain't gone yet. The rest was too short or too fat or too thin or something."
"Didn't any more men want to go than that?"
"No," said the old man. "They all want to wear soldier-clothes, but they don't all want to go fighting. They've got up a militia battalion for them now, and 'most everybody in town's got a uniform. I hadn't seen a uniform in the county before in I don't know how long—except firemen, I should say."
"I'm so glad they've got them now," cried Sam. "Doesn't it improve the looks of the place? It's so much more homelike and-d-d glorious, don't you think so?"
The old man had no opportunity to reply, as the 'bus now drew up at the front door of the principal hotel. The commercial traveler got out first and went into the house; the old man followed, and turning to Sam as he passed him, he said with a glance at the vanishing stranger:
"He's a copperhead, that feller."
He went on toward the bar-room door, but called back as he went:
"If you get lonesome over at Jinks', come in here in the evening. Ask for me; my name's Reddy."
Sam did not get out of the omnibus, but told the driver to take him to Congressman Jinks'; and on they went, first to the right and then to the left along the wide and gently winding streets, which would have been well shaded with maples if the yellow leaves had not already begun to fall. They drove in at last through a gate in a wooden fence and round a semi-circular lawn to the front of a comfortable frame house, and in a few moments he was received with open arms by his relations.
Congressman Jinks was a widower and had several children, all of whom, however, were away at school except his eldest daughter, a young lady of Sam's age, and his youngest, a girl of seven. The former, Mary, was a tall damsel with fair hair and a decidedly attractive manner. Mr. Jinks reminded Sam of hisfather with the added elegancies of many years' life at the Capital.
"Well, Samuel, I am glad to see you at last. We know all about you, and we're expecting great things from you," he cried out in a hearty voice. Sam felt at home at once.
"Come, Mary, show your cousin his room. Here, give me your grip. Yes, you must let me carry it. Now get ready for supper as soon as you can. It's all ready whenever you are."
After supper they all sat round a wood fire, for it was a little chilly in the evening now. Mr. Jinks had his little girl in his lap, and they talked over family history and the events of the day. Sam asked who Mr. Reddy was whom he had met in the train.
"Oh! you mean old Reddy. Was he drunk? No? That's odd."
"He'd been away for the day drawing his pension," said Sam.
"Of course," said Mr. Jinks. "I might have known it. That is his one sober day in the month. He sobers up to go to town, buthe'll make up for lost time to-night. That twelve dollars will last just a week, and it all goes into the bar-room till. He's been that way ever since I was a boy, tho they say he was a steady enough young fellow before he went to the war. It's a curious coincidence, but there are two or three old rum-soaked war veterans like that hanging round every tavern in the country, and I'd like to know how much pension money goes that way. It's a great system tho, that pension system. I see something of it in Whoppington when I'm attending Congress. It distributes the money of the country and circulates it among the people. I like to see the amount increase every year. It's a healthy sign. I'm trying to get some more for Reddy. It helps the county just that much. Swan, the hotel man, spends it here. I believe in protecting home industries and fostering our home market. I wish you could have heard my speech on the war-tax bill—it covered that point. My, how this war is costing, tho! A million dollars a day! But it's well worthit. The more money we spend and the higher the taxes, the more circulation there is. You ought to see how things are booming at Whoppington. I'm sorry you couldn't come to see me there, but I had to be here this week looking after election matters in my district. In Whoppington all the hotels are full of contractors and men looking for commissions in the army, and promoters and investors, all with an eye to the Cubapines. You can just see how the war has brought prosperity!"
"I should have liked to see Whoppington very much," said Sam, "but I suppose I must wait till I come back. It must be very different from other cities. You must feel there as if you were at the center of things—at the very mainspring of all our life, I mean."
"You've hit the nail on the head," said his uncle. "Whoppington holds up all the rest of the country. There is the Government that makes everything go. There's no business there to speak of; no manufacturing, no agriculture in the country round—nothing to distract your attention but the power of the Administration that lies behind all the rest. Just think what this country would be without Whoppington! Just imagine the capital city sinking into the ground and what would we all do? Even here at Slowburgh what would be left for us?"
"Wouldn't we have breakfast to-morrow morning, papa?" asked the little girl in his lap.
"Er-er-well, perhaps we might have breakfast——"
"Wouldn't we have clothes, papa?"
"Perhaps we might have—but no, we couldn't either; it's the tariff that gives us our clothes by keeping all foreign clothes out of the country, and then we shouldn't have er-er——"
"It would upset the post-office," suggested Sam, coming to the rescue.
"Yes, to be sure, that is what I meant. It would cause a serious delay in the mails, that's certain."
"And then there would be no soldiers," added Sam.
"Of course. How stupid of me to overlook that. How would you like to see no soldiers in the street?"
"I shouldn't like it at all, papa."
"Yes, my dear boy," he proceeded, turning to Sam, "I would not want to have it repeated in my district, but I confess that I am always homesick for Whoppington when I am here. That's the real world there. There's the State Department where they manage all the foreign affairs of the world. What could we do without foreign affairs? And the Agricultural Department. How could we get in our crops without it? And the Labor Department. Every man who does a day's work depends on the Labor Department for his living, we may say. And the——"
"The War Department," said Sam.
"Yes, the War Department. We depend on that for our wars. Perhaps at first that does not seem to be so useful, but——"
"Oh! but, Uncle George, surely it is the most useful of all. What could we do without wars. Just fancy a country without wars!"
"I don't know but you're right, Sam."
"And then the Treasury Department depends a good deal on the War Department," said Sam, in triumph, "for without the War Department and the army it wouldn't have any pensions to pay."
"That's so."
"Papa," said Mary Jinks, who had modestly taken no part in a conversation whose wisdom was clearly beyond her comprehension—"papa, why didn't everybody go to the war like Mr. Reddy, and then they'd all have pensions and nobody'd have to work."
"It's their own fault if they didn't," answered her father; "and if some people are overworked they have only their own selves to thank for it. I have no patience with the complaints of these socialists and anarchists that the poor are getting poorer and the number of unemployed increasing. In a country with pensions and war taxes and a tariff there's no excuse for poverty at all."
"Yes," said Sam, "they could all enlist if they wanted to."
The following day was spent in driving about the country. Mr. Jinks was obliged to visit the various centers in his Congressional district, and he took Sam with him on one of these expeditions. The country was beautiful in the clear, cold autumn air. The mountains stood out blue on the horizon, and the trees were brilliant with red and yellow leaves. Sam, however, had no eyes for these things. He was eager to hear about the militia company, and was pleased to see several pairs of military trousers, altho they were made to do duty with civilian coats. Such for him were the incidents of the day. After supper in the evening he bethought him of old Reddy's invitation to the hotel bar-room, and thinking that he might learn more about the local military situation there, he excused himself and hied him thither. He found the room crowded with the wiseacres of the place, the Bohemian, drinking element perhaps predominating. The room was so full of smoke that, as Sam entered, he could hardly distinguish its contents, but he saw a confused mass of men inwooden arm-chairs tipped at every conceivable angle, surrounding a tall round stove which was heated white hot. The room was intensely warm and apparently totally wanting in ventilation.
"Here's my friend, Captain Jinks," said a husky voice which Sam recognized as that of old Reddy. "Here, take this chair near the fire."
Sam accepted the offered chair, altho he would have preferred a situation a little less torrid.
"Gentlemen, this is Captain Jinks," said the old man, determined to get all the credit he could from his acquaintance with Sam. "Captain, this is my friend, Mr. Jackson."
Mr. Jackson was a tall, thin, narrow-chested man with no shoulders, a rounded back, and a gray, tobacco-stained mustache. His face was covered with pimples, and a huge quid of tobacco was concealed under his cheek. He was sitting on a chair tipped back rather beyond the danger-point, and his feet rested on the rim which projected from the stove half-wayup. He made no effort to rise, but slowly extended a grimy, clammy hand which Sam pressed with some hesitation.
"Glad to make your acquaintance, Captain," he drawled in a half-cracked voice that suggested damaged lungs and vocal organs. "Shake hands with Mr. Tucker."
Mr. Tucker, a little, old, red-faced man on the other side of the stove, advanced and went through the ceremony suggested.
"We were just a-talking about them Cubapinos," explained Reddy. "The idee of them fellers a-pitching into us after all we've done for 'em. It's outrageous. They're only monkeys anyway, and they ought to be shot, every mother's son on 'em. Haven't we freed 'em from the cruel Castalians that they've been hating so for three hundred years?"
"They seem to be hating us pretty well just now," said a man in the corner, whose voice sounded familiar to Sam. He turned and recognized the commercial traveler of the day before.
"They're welcome to hate us," answeredJackson, "and when it comes to a matter of hating I shouldn't think much of us if we couldn't make 'em hate us as much in a year as the Castalians could in three hundred. They're a blamed slow lot and we ain't. That's all there is of it. What do you think, Captain?"
"I fear," said Sam, "that they don't quite understand the great blessings we're conferring on them."
"What blessings?" asked the drummer.
"Why," said Sam, "liberty and independence—no, I don't mean independence exactly, but liberty and freedom."
"Then why don't we leave them alone instead of fighting them?"
"What an idee!" exclaimed Tucker. "They don't know what liberty is, and we must teach 'em if we have to blow their brains out."
"You're too hard on 'em, Tucker," drawled Mr. Jackson. "We mustn't expect too much from pore savages who live in a country so hot that they can't progress like we do." Here Mr. Jackson took off his hat and wiped thebeads of perspiration from his brow with a red bandanna handkerchief. "Don't expect too much from cannibals that have their brains half roasted by the tropical sun."
"That's a fact!" said some one in the throng.
"Yes," said Jackson, crossing his legs on a level well above his head, "them pore critters need our civilization, that's what they need," and he dexterously squirted a mouthful of tobacco juice on the white-hot stove, where it sizzled and gradually evaporated. "We must make real men of 'em. We must give 'em our strength and vigor and intelligence. They're a dirty lot of lazy beggars, that's the long and short of it, and we must turn 'em into gentlemen like us!"
A general murmur of approval followed this outburst.
"I hear," said Sam, anxious to get some definite information as to the warriors of the town, "I hear that several Slowburghers are going to the war."
"Yes," said Tucker, while Jackson after hiseffort settled down into a semi-comatose state, "six of our boys are a-going. There's Davy Black, he drives the fastest horse in these parts, and Tom Slade. Where is Tom? He's generally here. They'll miss him here at the hotel, and Jim Thomson who used to be bartender over at Bloodgood's, and the two Thatchers—they're cousins—that makes five."
"The village ought to be glad they are going to represent her at the front," said Sam.
"From all I can hear," said the commercial man, "I think they are."
"Naturally," cried Sam, "it will reflect great glory on the place. You ought to be proud of them."
"It'll help the insurance business here," said a young man who had not yet spoken.
"How is that?" asked Sam. "I don't exactly see."
"Well, it's this way. You see I'm in the insurance business and I can't write a policy on a barn in this township, there's been so many burned; and while I don't want to say nothing against anybody, we think maybethey won't burn so much when the Thatchers clear out."
"Nothin' ain't ever been proved against 'em," said Tucker.
"That's true," said the young man, "but perhaps there might have been if they'd stayed. They say that Squire Jones was going to have Josh Thatcher arrested next week for his barn, but he's agreed to let up if he'd go to the Cubapines. Maybe that isn't true, but they say so."
"I venture to say that it is a mistake," said Sam, who had been much pained by the conversation. "Young men who are so patriotic in the hour of need must be men of high character."
"Maybe they are and maybe they aren't," replied the insurance agent, "but old Mrs. Crane told me she was going to buy chickens again next week for her chicken-yard. There was so many stolen last year that she gave up keeping them, but next week she's beginning again, and next week the Thatchers are going away. It's a coincidence, anyhow."
"Oh, boys will be boys," said Reddy. "When they get a good pension they'll be just as respectable as you or me. Here comes Tom Slade now, and Josh Thatcher, too."
The door had opened, and through the smoke Sam descried two young men, one a slight wiry fellow, the other a large, broad-shouldered, fair-haired man with a dull expression of the eye.
"Who says 'drinks all around'?" cried the former. "Everybody's blowing us off now."
"Here," said Jackson, waking up, "I'll do it, hanged if I don't. You fellows are a-goin' to civilize the Cubapinos, and you deserve all the liquor you can carry."
He got up and approached the bar and the crowd followed him, and soon every one was supplied with some kind of beverage.
"Here's to Thatcher and Slade! May they represent Slowburgh honorably in the Cubapines and show 'em what Slowburghers are like," said Jackson, elevating his iced cocktail.
The health was heartily drunk.
"And here is to that distinguished officer,Captain Jinks. Long may he wave!" cried old Reddy.
"Speech, speech!" exclaimed the convivial crowd.
"Gentlemen," responded Sam, "I am a soldier and not an orator, but I am proud to have my name coupled with those of your honored fellow townsmen. It is a sign of the greatness of our country that men of just the same character are in all quarters of this mighty republic answering their country's call. Soon we shall have the very pick of our youth collected on the shores of these ungrateful islanders who have turned against their best friends, and these misguided people will see for themselves the fruits of our civilization as we see it, in the persons of our soldiers. Permit me in responding to your flattering toast to propose the names of Mr. Reddy and Mr. Tucker as representatives of an older generation of patriots whose example we are happy to have before us for our guidance."
This, Sam's first speech, was received with great applause, and then Josh Thatcher proposed three cheers for Captain Jinks, which were given with a will. The only perverse spirit was that of the commercial traveler, who had sat in the corner reading an old copy of the SlowburghHerald, and now on hearing the cheers, took a candle and went upstairs to bed.
"That man's no good," said Reddy with a shake of his head. While the whole company were expressing their concurrence with this sentiment, Sam bade them good-night and took his leave.
chap_6Y the next morning's mail Sam's commission arrived, and with it orders to report at once at the city of St. Kisco, whence a transport was about to sail on a date which gave Sam hardly time to catch it. He must hurry at once to town and get his new uniforms for which he had been fitted the week before, and then proceed by the fastest trains on the long journey to the distant port without even paying his parents a farewell visit. He foundCleary busily engaged in making his final arrangements, and persuaded him to cut them short and travel with him. Sam had hardly time to take breath from the moment of his departure from Slowburgh to the evening on which he and Cleary at last sat down in their sleeping-car. His friend heaved a deep sigh."Well, here we are actually off and I haven't got anything to do for a change. This is what I call comfort."
Y the next morning's mail Sam's commission arrived, and with it orders to report at once at the city of St. Kisco, whence a transport was about to sail on a date which gave Sam hardly time to catch it. He must hurry at once to town and get his new uniforms for which he had been fitted the week before, and then proceed by the fastest trains on the long journey to the distant port without even paying his parents a farewell visit. He foundCleary busily engaged in making his final arrangements, and persuaded him to cut them short and travel with him. Sam had hardly time to take breath from the moment of his departure from Slowburgh to the evening on which he and Cleary at last sat down in their sleeping-car. His friend heaved a deep sigh.
"Well, here we are actually off and I haven't got anything to do for a change. This is what I call comfort."
"Yes," said Sam, "but I wish we were in the Cubapines. This inaction is terrible while so much is at stake. It's a consolation to know that I am going to help to save the country, but it is tantalizing to wait so long. Then in your own way you're going to help the country too," he added, thinking that he might seem to Cleary to be monopolizing the honors.
"I'll help it by helping you," laughed Cleary. "I've got another contract for you. You see the magazines are worth working. They handle the news after the newspapers are through with it, and they don't interfere with each other. So I got permission to tacklethem fromThe Lyre, and I saw the editor ofScribblers' Magazineyesterday and it's a go, if things come out as I expect."
"What do you mean?" asked Sam.
"Why, you are to write articles for them, a regular series, and the price is to be fixed on a sliding scale according to your celebrity at the time of each publication. It won't be less than a hundred dollars a page, and may run up to a thousand. It wouldn't be fair to fix the price ahead. If the articles run say six months, the last article might be worth ten times as much as the first."
"Yes, it might be better written," said Sam.
"Oh, I don't mean that. But your name might be more of an ad. by that time."
"I've never written anything to print in my life," said Sam, "and I'm not sure I can."
"That doesn't make any difference. I'll write them for you. You might be too modest anyhow. I can't think of a good name for the series. It ought to be 'The Autobiography of a Hero,' or 'A Modern Washington in theCubapines,' or something like that. What do you think?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said Sam. "I must leave that to you. They sound to me rather too flattering, but if you are sure that is the way those things are always done, I won't make any objection. You might ask Mr. Jonas. Where is he?"
"He's going on next week. He's the greatest fellow I ever saw. Everything he touches turns to gold. He's got his grip on everything in sight on those blessed islands already. He's scarcely started, and he could sell out his interests there for a cold million to-day. It's going to be a big company to grab everything. He's called it the 'Benevolent Assimilation Company, Limited'; rather a good name, I think, tho perhaps 'Unlimited' would be nearer the truth."
"Yes," said Sam. "It shows our true purposes. I hope the Cubapinos will rejoice when they hear the name."
"Perhaps they won't. There's no counting on those people. I'm sick of them before I'veseen them. I'm just going to tell what a lot of skins they are when I begin writing forThe Lyre. By the way, did you have your photographs taken at Slowburgh?"
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"No," said Sam, "I forgot all about it, but I can write home about the old ones, and I've got one in cadet uniform taken at East Point."
"Well, we mustn't forget to have you taken at St. Kisco, and we can mail the photos toThe Lyre, but you must be careful not to overlook a thing like that again. The people will want to know what the hero who saved the country looked like."
"Even if I don't do anything very wonderful," said Sam, "and I hope I shall, I shall be taking part in a great work, and doing my share of civilizing and Christianizing a barbarous country. They have no conception of our civilized and refined manners, of the sway of law and order, of all our civilized customs, the result of centuries of improvement and effort."
Cleary picked up a newspaper to read.
"What's that other newspaper lying there?" asked Sam.
"That'sThe Evening Star; do you want it?" and he handed it to him.
"Good Lord! what's that frightful picture?" said Cleary, as Sam opened the paper. "Oh, I see; it's that lynching yesterday. Why, it's from a snap-shot; that's what I call enterprise! There's the darkey tied to the stake, and the flames are just up to his waist. My! how he squirms. It's fearful, isn't it? And look at the crowd! There are small boys bringing wood, and women and girls looking on, and, upon my word, a baby in arms, too! I know that square very well. I've often been there. That's the First Presbyterian Church there behind the stake. Rather a handsome building," and Cleary turned back to his own paper, while Sam settled down in his corner to read how the leading citizens gathered bones and charred flesh as mementoes and took them home to their children. No one could have guessed what he was reading from his expression, for his face spoke of nothingbut a guileless conscience and a contented heart.
One day at St. Kisco gave just time enough for the photographs, and most of the day was devoted to them. Sam was taken in twenty poses—in the act of leading his troops in a breach, giving the order to fire, charging bayonets himself with a musket supposed to have been taken from a dead foe, standing with his arms folded and his cap pulled over his eyes in the trenches, and waving his cap on a bastion in the moment of triumph. Cleary lay down so that his friend might be pictured with his foot upon his prostrate form. The photographer was one who made a specialty of such work, and was connected with a cinematograph company.
"If you have good luck, sir, and become famous," he said, "as your friend thinks you will, we'll fight your battles over again over there in the vacant lot; and then we'll work these in, and you'll soon be in every variety show in the country."
"But I may be mounted on horseback," said Sam.
"That's so," said Cleary. "Can't you get a horse somewhere and take him on that?"
"We never do that, sir. Here's a saddle. Just sit on it across this chair, and when the time comes we'll work it in all right. We'll have a real horse over in the lot." And thus Sam was taken straddling a chair.
They left orders to send copies of the photographs to Homeville, Slowburgh, and to Miss Hunter who was still at East Point, and the remainder toThe Lyre. That very evening they boarded the transport and at daybreak sailed away over the great ocean. The ship was filled by various drafts for different regiments and men-of-war. Sam's regiment was already at the seat of war, but there were several captains and lieutenants assigned to it on board, as well as thirty or forty men. Sam felt entirely comfortable again for the first time since his resignation at East Point. He was in his element, the military world, once more. Everything was ruled by drum, fife, and bugle. He found the same feeling of intense patriotism again, which civilians can not quite attainto, however they may make the attempt. The relations between some of the officers seemed to Sam somewhat strange. The highest naval officer on board, a captain, was not on speaking terms with the highest army officer, a brigadier-general of volunteers. This breach apparently set the fashion, for all the way down, through both arms of the service, there were jealousies and quarrels. There was one great subject of dispute, the respective merits of the two admirals who had overcome the Castalian fleet at Havilla. Some ascribed the victory to the one and some to the other, but to take one side was to put an end to all friendships on the other.
"See here, Sam," said Cleary, not long after they had been out of sight of land, "who are you for, Admiral Hercules or Admiral Slewey? We can't keep on the fence, that's evident, and if we get down on different sides we can't be friends, and that might upset all our plans, not to speak of the Benevolent Assimilation Trust."
"The fact is," said Sam, "that I don't knowanything about it. They're both admirals, and they both must be right."
"Nobody knows anything about it, but we must make up our minds all the same. My idea is that Hercules is going to come out ahead; and as long as one seems as good as the other in other respects, I move that we go for Hercules."
"Very well," said Sam, "if you say so. He was in command, anyway, and more likely to be right."
So Sam and Cleary allied themselves with the Hercules party, which was in the majority. They became quite intimate with the naval officers who belonged to this faction, and saw more of them than of the army men. Sam was much interested in learning about the profession which kept alive at sea the same traditions which the army preserved on land. For the first few days of the voyage the rolling of the ship made him feel a little sick, and he concealed his failings as well as he could and kept to himself; but he proved to be on the whole a good sailor. He was particularlypleased to learn that on a man-of-war the captain takes his meals alone, and that only on invitation can an inferior officer sit down at table with him. This appealed to him as an admirable way of maintaining discipline and respect. The fact that all the naval men he met had their arms and bodies more or less tattooed also aroused his admiration. He inquired of the common soldiers if they ever indulged in the same artistic luxury, and found out to his delight that a few of them did.
"It's strange," he remarked to Cleary, "that tattooing is universal in the navy and comparatively rare in the army. I rather think the habit must have been common to both services, and somehow we have nearly lost it. It's a fine thing. It marks a man with noble symbols and mottoes, and commits him to an honorable life, indelibly I may say."
"It's a little like branding a mule," said Cleary.
"Yes," said Sam; "the brand shows who owns the mule, and the tattooing shows a man belongs to his country."
"And if he's shipwrecked and hasn't any picture-books or newspapers with him, he can find all he wants on his own skin," said Cleary.
"Joke as you please, I think it's a patriotic custom."
"Why don't you get tattooed then?" asked Cleary.
"Do you think there's anybody on board can do it?" cried Sam enthusiastically.
"Of course. Any of those blue-jackets can tell you whom to go to."
Sam was off before Cleary had finished his sentence. Sure enough, he found a boatswain who was renowned as an artist, and without further parley he delivered himself into his hands. Cleary was consulted on the choice of designs, and the result was pronounced by all the connoisseurs on board—and there were many—to be a masterpiece. On his chest was a huge spread-eagle with a bunch of arrows, bayonets, and lightning-flashes in his claws. Cannon belched forth on each side, and the whole was flanked by a sailor on one side and a soldier on the other. His arms were tattooedwith various small designs of crossed swords, flags, mottoes, the title of his regiment, and other such devices. The boatswain now thought that his task was complete, but Sam insisted on having his back decorated as well, altho this was rather unusual. The general stock of subjects had been exhausted, and Cleary suggested that a representation of Sam himself, striking off the fetters of a Cubapino, would be most appropriate. After discussing a number of other suggestions offered by various friends, this one was finally adopted and successfully carried out. The operation was not altogether painless and produced a good deal of irritation of the skin, but it served to pass Sam's time and allay his impatience to be in the field, and Cleary became so much interested that he consented to allow the artist to tattoo a few modest designs of cannon and crossed bayonets on his own arms. Sam's comparatively high rank among officers who were, many of them, his juniors in rank but his seniors in years, might have made his position at first a difficult one had it not been forhis entire single-mindedness and loyalty to his country. If the powers that be had made him a captain, it was right that he should be a captain. He obeyed implicitly in taking his seat near the head of the table, as he would have obeyed if he had been ordered to the foot, and he expected others to accept what came from above as he did.
One afternoon a report sprang up that land was in sight, and soon every eye was strained in one direction. Sam's eyesight was particularly good, and he was one of the first to detect the white gleam of a lighthouse. Soon the coast-line was distinct, and it was learned that they would arrive on the next day. By daybreak Sam was on deck, studying as well as he could this new land of heroism and adventure. Cleary joined him later, and the two friends watched the strange tropical shore with its palm-groves and occasional villages, and a range of mountains beyond. A bay opened before them, and the ship turned in, passing near an old fortification.
"This is just where our fleet went in," saidCleary, examining a folding map which he held in his hand. "They passed along there single file," and he pointed out the passage.
"Wasn't it glorious! Just think of sailing straight on, no matter how many torpedoes there were!" exclaimed Sam.
"They knew blamed well there weren't any torpedoes," answered Cleary.
"How could they have known? They hadn't ever been here before? There might perfectly well have been a lot of them directly under them."
"Yes," said Cleary, "they might have grown up from the bottom of the sea. All sorts of queer things grow here. There might have been a sort of coral torpedoes."
"Cleary, you're getting more and more cynical every day. I wish you'd be more reasonable. What's the matter with you?"
"It must be the newspaper business. And then you see I don't wear a uniform either. That makes a lot of difference."
In another hour they passed the scene of the great naval battle. They could justdistinguish the hulks of the wrecks well in shore.
"And there's Havilla!" cried Cleary.
And Havilla it was. They entered the great Oriental port with its crowded shipping. Small native boats were darting about between merchantmen and men-of-war. The low native houses, the fine buildings of the Castalian city, the palms, the Eastern costumes—all made a scene not to be forgotten. An officer of the 200th Volunteer Infantry came on board before the steamer had come to her moorings, with orders for Captain Jinks to report at once at their headquarters in one of the public buildings of the city. A lieutenant was left in charge of the 200th's detail, and Sam hastened ashore in a native boat and Cleary went with him. They had no difficulty in finding their way, and Sam was soon reporting to his chief, Colonel Booth, an elderly captain of the regular army, who had been placed at the head of this volunteer regiment. The colonel received him rather gruffly, and turned him over to one of his captains, telling him they wouldbe quartered together. The colonel was inclined to pay no attention to Cleary, but when the latter mentioned the Benevolent Assimilation Company, Limited, he suddenly changed his tone and expressed great delight at meeting him. Sam and Cleary went off together with the captain, whose name was Foster, to visit the lodgings assigned by the colonel. They were in a building near by, which had been used as barracks by the Castalian army. A number of rooms had been fitted up for the use of officers, and Sam and Foster were to occupy one of these, an arrangement which promised to be most comfortable. Five companies of their regiment were quartered in the same building.
Cleary asked Foster's advice as to lodgings for himself, and Foster took him off with him to find a place, while Sam was left to unpack his luggage which had just arrived from the ship. They agreed to meet again in the same room at nine o'clock in the evening.
It was somewhat after the hour fixed that the three men came together. Foster broughtout a bottle of whisky from a cupboard and put it on the table by the water-jug, and then offered cigars. Sam had never smoked before, but he felt that a soldier ought to smoke, and he accepted the weed, and soon they were all seated, smoking and drinking, and engaged in a lively conversation. Foster had been in the Cubapines since the arrival of the first troops, and it was a treat for both of his interlocutors to hear all the news at first hand from a participant in the events.
"How were things when you got here?" asked Cleary.
"Well, it was like this," answered Foster. "Nothing had happened then except the destruction of the fleet. Our fleet commanded the water of course, and the niggers had closed up round the city on land. The Castalians didn't have anything but the city, and when we came we wanted to take the city."
"Was Gomaldo in command of the Cubapino army then?" asked Sam.
"Yes, he has been from the beginning. He's a bad lot."
"How is that?" asked Cleary.
"Why, he has interfered with us all along as much as he could, just as if we didn't own the place."
"That's just what I thought," said Cleary. "The copperheads at home say we treated him as an ally, but of course that's rubbish."
"Of course," said Foster, "we never treated him as an ally. We only brought him here and made use of him, supplying him with some arms and letting him take charge of some of our prisoners. We couldn't tell him that we intended to keep the islands, because we were using him and couldn't get on without him. He's an ignorant fellow and hasn't the first idea of the behavior of an officer and a gentleman."
"Well, how did you take Havilla?" asked Sam.
"Oh, it was this way. The Castalians couldn't hold out because these monkeys had the place so tight that they couldn't get any provisions in. So they sent secret word to us that they would let us in on a certain day ifwe would keep the natives out. We agreed to this, of course. Then the Castalian general said that we must have some kind of a battle or he would be afraid to go home, and we cooked up a nice little battle. When the men got into it, however, it turned out to be quite a skirmish, and a number were killed on both sides. Then they surrendered and we went in and put a guard at the gates, and wouldn't let the niggers in. You wouldn't believe it, but they actually kicked at it. They're an unreasonable, sulky lot of beggars."
"Then what happened after that?" asked Sam.
"Oh, after that we sent the Castalians home and the Cubapinos moved back their lines a little, and we agreed to a sort of neutral zone and a line beyond which we weren't to go."
"What was it that started the fighting between us and them?" said Sam.
"It's a little mixed up. I was at the theater that night, and in the middle of the play we heard firing, and all of us rushed off and found everything in motion, and it grew into a regular fight. We made them move back, and before long the firing ceased. I tried to find out the next day how it began. The fact is, the day before, General Notice had ordered the 68th to move forward about half a mile, and they did so. The Cubapinos objected and insisted on crossing the new picket-line. That evening an officer of theirs walked across it and was shot by the sentinel. That started it."
"Was the regiment moved across the line fixed on their side of the neutral zone?" said Cleary.
"Oh, yes. But that was all right. Don't we own the whole place? And the regiment was only obeying orders."
"I wonder why the general gave the orders?" asked Cleary, musing as he looked into the smoke which he was puffing forth.
"They say it was because he had what he called 'overmastering political reasons.' That is, there was the army bill up in Congress and it had to go through, and he was given the tip that some fighting would help it, and he tookthe hint. It was good statesmanship and generalship, too. All subordinate things must bend to the great general interests of the country. It was a good move, for it settled the business. Gomaldo sent in the next day and tried to patch up a truce, but Notice wouldn't see his messengers. He told them they must surrender unconditionally. It was fine, soldierly conduct. He's a brick."
"What has he gone home for?" asked Sam.
"Why, he'd conquered them. Why shouldn't he go home? They're giving him a grand reception at home, and I'm glad to see it."
"But he says that he has pacified the islands and brought the war to a close!"
"So he did, in the military sense. He couldn't tell that the scamps wouldn't submit at once. It wasn't his fault that they showed such unreasonable bitterness and obstinacy."
"How much territory do we hold now?" said Sam.
"We've got the city and a strip along the bay where the fleet is; about five miles back,I should say. But it's hardly safe to wander off far at night."
"What's going to happen next?" asked Cleary. "I want to send home some news toThe Lyreas soon as I can, and I want my friend Jinks here to have a chance to distinguish himself—and you too," he added hastily.
"We'll probably get to work by next week, the way things look now. General Laughter is rather slow, but he means business. Gomaldo is getting a big army together, and we may have to take the offensive to get ahead of him. Now I suppose we ought to turn in. How would you like to take a look at Havilla to-morrow and see the place where the naval battle was? We can get off duty in the afternoon. All right, let's meet at regimental headquarters at three."
Cleary bade them good-night, and Sam, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable effects from his cigar, was quite ready to go to bed.
Sam's morning was occupied in familiarizing himself with the regimental routine in barracks. The building enclosed a large courtwhich was used for drills and guard-mounting parade, and he did not have occasion to leave it until he went to join his friends at headquarters. Promptly at three o'clock the three men sallied forth. Sam was struck with the magnificence of the principal buildings, including the palace and the cathedral.
"It's a fine city, isn't it?" he said.
"Yes, and the women are not bad-looking," said Cleary.
"The people don't quite look like savages," said Sam.
"You can't judge of them by these," said Foster. "Wait till you meet some negritos in the country."
"How large a part of the population are they?" said Sam.
"About one-fortieth, I think, but where principle is involved you can't go by numbers."
"Of course not," was Sam's reply. "What building is that," he added, "with our flag over it and the nicely dressed young women in the windows?"
"That?" said Foster, laughing; "oh, that'sthe Young Ladies' Home. We have to license the place. It's the only way to keep the army in condition. Why, we've got about fifty per cent infected now."
"Really?" cried Sam. "How our poor fellows are called upon to suffer for these ungrateful Cubapinos! Still they can feel that they are suffering for their country, too. That's a consolation."
"There's more consolation than that," said Foster, "for we're spreading the thing like wildfire among the natives. We'll come out ahead."
"I wish, tho, that they wouldn't fly Old Gory over the house," said Sam.
"There was some talk of taking it down, but you see it's the policy of the Administration never to haul down the flag when it has once been raised. It presents rather a problem, you see."
"It may wear out in time," said Sam, "altho it looks painfully new. What will they do then?"
"I confess I don't know," said Foster."They'll cross the bridge when they reach it."
"A good many of the shop signs are in English already," remarked Sam. "That's a good beginning."
"Yes," said Cleary. "But they seem to be almost all saloons, that's queer."
"So they are," said Sam.
"There are some pretty good ones, too," said Foster. "Just stop in here for a moment and take a drink."
They entered a drinking-place and found a bar planned on the familiar lines of home.
"Look at this list of our drinks," said Foster proudly. "Count 'em; there are eighty-two."
Sam examined the list, which was printed and framed and hanging on the wall, and they each took a glass of beer, standing. There were about a dozen men in the place, most of them soldiers.
"Do they do a big business in these places?" asked Sam.
"You'll think so when you see the drunken soldiers in the streets in the evening," answered Foster. "We're planting our institutions here, I tell you."
"Not only saloons," said Sam. "There's the post-office, for instance."
"They had a post-office before," said Cleary.
"But ours is surely better," rejoined Sam.
"It's better than it was," said Foster, "now that they've put the new postmaster in jail. They say he's bagged $75,000."
"It's a good example of the way we treat embezzlers," cried Sam. "It ought to be a lesson to these Cubapinos. He'll be sent home to be tried. They ought to do that with every one caught robbing the mails in any way."
"I'm afraid if they did the force would be pretty well crippled," said Foster.
"Then there's the custom house," said Sam. "They must be delighted to get rid of those Castalian swindlers."
"A merchant here told me," said Foster, "that they have to pay just as often now, but that they have to pay bigger sums."
"Of course," cried Cleary, "you wouldn't expect our people to bother with the littlebribes the Castalians were after. We live on a larger scale. It will do these natives good to open their eyes to a real nation. I'm sorry any of them steal, but if they do, let 'em take a lot and be done with it."
"We must remember that these people are only civilians," said Sam. "What can we expect of them?"
"Our commissary and quartermaster departments aren't much better, tho," said Foster. "Somebody's getting rich, to judge from the prices we pay and the stuff we get. The meat stinks, and the boots are made with glue instead of stitches and nails."
"Then they must have been appointed from civil life," cried Sam.
"Come, Sam," said Cleary, "I'm a civilian now, and I'm not going to have you crow over us. How about Captain Peters, who was the pet of Whoppington and cleaned out the Deer Harbor fund?"
Sam walked on in silence.
"See here," said Foster, "I'm tired of going on foot. Let's take a cab. Here, you fellow!"
A two-wheeled wagon with an awning, drawn by a small, shaggy horse, drew up before them.
"There's a gentleman in it," said Sam. "We must wait for another."
"Nonsense!" cried Foster in a loud voice. "You evidently are a new arrival. It's only one of those monkeys. Here you, sir, get out of that!"
The native expostulated a little, shrugged his shoulders, and did as he was told, and the three men got in.
"I'm afraid he didn't like it," said Sam.
"Didn't like it? What of it?" said Foster. "Whatever we do in uniform is official business, and we've got to impress these fellows with our power and make them respect us."
They drove now through some narrow streets, past various native cafés half open to the air, where thehabituéswere beginning to collect, through a picturesque gate in the old city wall, and out on the Boulevard, which was now filled with people driving and walking. It was a gay scene, and reminded Cleary ofsome of the cities of the Mediterranean which he had visited.
"They're not quite as much like Apaches as I expected," said Sam, and neither of his friends ventured to respond.
"We haven't got time to go out to where the ships are sunk," said Foster, "but if we drive up that hill and get out and walk up a little farther we can see them in the distance. I've got my glasses with me."
In a few minutes they were at this point of vantage in a sort of unfrequented public park, and the three men took turns in looking at the distant wrecks through the captain's field-glass.
"It was a great victory, wasn't it?" said Sam.
"Well, perhaps it was," answered Foster; "but the fact is, that those old boats could hardly float and their guns couldn't reach our ships. We just took our time and blew them up and set them on fire, and the crews were roasted or drowned, that was all there was of it. I don't think much of naval men anyway,to tell the truth. They don't compare with the army. They're always running their ships aground if there's any ground to run into."
"Anyhow, if it had been a strong fleet we'd have wiped it out just the same, wouldn't we?" said Sam.
"Undoubtedly," said Foster. "It's a pity, tho, that the fight didn't test our naval armaments better. It didn't prove anything. If we'd only used our torpedo-boats, and they'd got out their torpedo-boat destroyers, and then we'd had some torpedo-boat-destroyer destroyers, and——"
"Yes," interrupted Cleary, "it is a pity."
"But it wasn't Admiral Hercules's fault," said Sam. "His glory ought to be just as great."
"Hercules! Hercules!" shouted Foster. "What had Hercules to do with it? He's a first-class fraud. It was Slewey who won the battle. You don't mean to tell me that you are Hercules men?"
Sam and Cleary tried in vain to explaintheir position, but Foster would not listen to them. The breach evidently was irreparable. He magnanimously turned over the cab to them, and went back to the city in another vehicle.
"Well, this is strange," said Sam. "I liked everything about Captain Foster, but I don't understand this."
"Oh, you will tho, old man," said Cleary. "I've found out this morning that it's the same thing all through the army and navy here. They're hardly any of them on speaking terms. If it isn't one thing it's another. It's the Whoppington fashion, that's all. The general of the army won't speak to the adjutant-general there, and they're always smuggling bills into Congress to retire each other, and that spirit runs all the way down through both services. I'm a civilian now, and I can see with a little perspective. I don't know why military people are always squabbling like the women in an old ladies' home. No other professions do; it's queer. It's getting to be better to lose a battle than to win it, forthen you don't have to fight for a year or two to find out who won it."
Sam entered a feeble protest against Cleary's criticisms, and the two relapsed into silence.
"Who did win that naval victory anyhow?" said Sam at last.
"That's just what I'd like to know," responded Cleary. "One of the admirals admits he wasn't there, and, if we are to believe the naval people, the other one spent most of his time dodging around the smokestack. But I think they're a little too hard on him; I can't imagine why. I hear they're going to establish a permanent court at Whoppington to determine who wins victories in future. It's not a bad idea. My own view is that that battle won itself, and I shouldn't be surprised if that was the way with most battles. It would be fun to run a war without admirals and generals and see how it would come out. I don't believe there'd be much difference. At any rate it looks so, if what the navy says is true, and one of the admirals was away and the other playing tag on the forward deck of thePhiladelphia. Rum name for a battle-ship, theBrotherly Love, isn't it?"
To this Sam made no answer.
On arriving at the barracks he succeeded in having a separate room assigned to him, and thenceforth he and Foster were strangers.