The War-Lord
[Illustration]
As soon as Sam was well enough to be moved the doctors sent him down to
the coast, and Cleary, who had been up and down the river several times
in the course of his newspaper work, went with him. Sam still felt
feeble, and altho he could walk without a crutch, he now had a decided
limp which was sure to be permanent. They arrived at the port a few
days before the expected arrival of the Emperor, and the whole place
was overflowing with excitement. The Emperor, who had never seen a
skirmish, was notwithstanding considered the greatest general of his
time, and he was coming now to prove it before the world and
incidentally to wreak vengeance upon a people, one of whom had killed
his ambassador. The town was profusely decorated, the Tutonian garrison
was increased, and Count von Balderdash, the commander-in-chief,
himself took command. Six fleets were drawn up in the wide bay to await
the coming of the war-lord. It was announced that he would make his
entry at night, and that the hour of arrival had been timed for a dark
moonless night. This was asserted to be for the better display of
fireworks. Finally, one morning the Tutonian fleet of four or five
large vessels was sighted in the distance. They steamed slowly up and
down in the distance until night fell, and then, as their colored
electric lights, outlining the masts and funnels, became distinct in
the darkness, they began to approach. Each of the awaiting fleets was
distinguished with particular-colored lights, and they had taken their
position at a considerable distance from the shore, leaving a passage
near the ruined forts for the Emperor. Sam and Cleary found a good
lookout on a dismantled bastion, and saw the whole parade. As the
leading vessel came near the first fleet the latter saluted with its
guns. Suddenly the lights on the advancing ship were extinguished, and
a strong flash-light was throw from above upon the forward deck. There
in bold relief stood a single figure, brilliantly illuminated by the
light. Cleary and Sam turned their field-glasses upon it.
"By Jove! it's the Emperor," cried Cleary. "He's got on his admiral's
uniform, and now he's passing his own fleet that Balderdash brought
with him."
They looked at the striking scene for some minutes, and the crowds on
the wharves and shores murmured with surprise.
"Bless my soul! he has disappeared," said Cleary again.
Sure enough, he had suddenly passed out of sight, and as suddenly the
flash-light went out and the lights on the masts reappeared. In another
moment these lights were extinguished, and the flash-light revealed a
form standing in the same place in a theatrical attitude with raised
sword and uplifted face.
"I believe it's he again," said Cleary. "He must have a trap-door. He's
got on another uniform. I think it's a Frank admiral's uniform. There
go the Frank guns. He's passing their fleet."
"Yes, it is a Frank naval uniform," said a foreign officer near them,
as he scrutinized the deck with his glasses.
Before each of the fleets the same maneuvre was carried out. As their
guns fired, the Emperor would disappear for a few moments, and in an
incalculably short time he would appear again in the uniform of an
admiral of the fleet in question. When he had passed the last fleet he
disappeared once more, and came back to sight clad in the white and
silver armor of a general officer of his own army, with helmet and
plume. The flash-light now changed colors through the whole gamut of
the rainbow, and the Emperor knelt in the attitude of Columbus
discovering America.
Sam was immensely impressed.
"Oh, Cleary!" he said, "if we only had an Emperor."
"The President is doing his best," said Cleary. "Don't blame him."
"Oh, but what can he do? Why haven't we some one like that to embody
the ideal of the State, to picture us to ourselves, to realize our
aspirations?"
As he said this a strange noise arose from the crowd near the
landing-stage where the Emperor was about to alight. The far greater
part of this crowd was composed of natives, and they had been entirely
taken aback by the exhibition. They were just beginning to understand
it, and as the war-lord moved about the deck followed by the glare of
the flash-light, and again struck an attitude before descending into
the gig which was to take him ashore, some one of the Porsslanese in
the crowd laughed. His neighbor laughed too, then another and then
another, until the whole native multitude was laughing. The laugh
rippled along the shore through the long stretch of natives collected
there like the swells from a passing steamer. It seemed to extend back
from the shore through the whole town, and, tho it was undoubtedly
fancy, Sam thought he heard it spreading, like the rings from a stone
thrown into the water, over the entire land. The foreigners stood
aghast. The Porsslanese are not a laughing people. They had never been
known to laugh before except in the most feeble manner. The events of
the past year had not been especially humorous, and the coming of the
great war-lord was far from being a laughing matter. Yet with the
perversity of heathen they had selected this impressive occasion for
showing their incurable barbarism and bad taste. Sam fairly shuddered.
"It's a sacrilege," he cried. "I believe that nothing short of
extermination will reclaim this unhappy land. They are calling down the
vengeance of heaven upon them."
They walked back to town with the foreign officer.
"He's a wonderful man, the Emperor," said he, in indifferent English.
"How quickly he changed his clothes, and what a compliment it was!"
"A sort of lightning-change artist," said Cleary. "He could make his
fortune at a continuous performance."
In the dark Sam blushed for his friend, but fortunately their companion
did not understand the allusion.
"You should have seen him when he visited our Queen," he said. "She
came to meet him in the uniform of a Tutonian hussar, breeches and all.
You can imagine how he was touched by it. That very afternoon he called
upon her dressed in the costume of one of our royal princesses with a
long satin train. It made him wonderfully popular. Our Queen responded
at once by making his infant daughters colonels of several of our
regiments. One of them is colonel of mine," he added proudly.
"What would you do if you went to war with Tutonia, and one of the kids
should order you to shoot on your own army?" asked Cleary. "It might be
embarrassing."
But the foreigner did not understand this either.
"And to think that these Porsslanese dogs have received him with
laughter!" said he.
At eleven o'clock on the same evening the Emperor was closeted with his
aged field-marshal, von Balderdash, in a handsomely furnished
sitting-room. A Turk's head had been set up in the middle of the room,
and His Majesty, dressed in the uniform of a cavalry general, was
engaged in making passes at it with a saber. He had already taken a
ride on horseback with his staff. The field-marshal stood wearily
leaning against the wall at the side of a desk piled up with papers.
"We have avenged the death of our ambassador," Balderdash was saying.
"We have sent out five punitive expeditions in all. Our quarter of the
imperial city shows the power of arms more completely than any other.
We have set the highest standard, and our army is the admiration of
all."
The count watched the face of his master as he spoke, but there was no
sign of satisfaction in it. The Emperor was out of humor.
"We have not done enough," he said. "If we had, those pagans would not
have ventured to laugh--yes, actually to laugh--in our imperial
presence. Balderdash, you have not done your duty. I shall take command
myself at once. We must have a real punitive expedition, and not one of
your imitations. If they want war, let them have it."
"We can not have war, Your Majesty, without an enemy, and we can find
no enemy. All their armed men are killed or have fled, and the rest of
the population run away from us as soon as we appear."
"Count," said the Emperor sternly, "do you remember your oath to our
person? Do you know your duties as a field-marshal?"
"I think so, Your Majesty."
"Is it not your duty to provide every requisite for war at my command?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Then I depend upon you to provide an enemy. What military requisite is
more important? Remember the fate of Fismark, and do your duty. We
must have a war. That is what I have come here for, and I do not
propose to be disappointed. We must have a punitive expedition at once.
What are my engagements for to-morrow?"
"Your Majesty's mustache artist is coming at 5:30," replied the count,
looking at a memorandum. "Breakfast at 6--inspection of infantry at
6:30--naval maneuvres at 8--reception of our officers at
10:30--reception of foreign officers at 11:30--reception of civilians
at 12--luncheon at 12:30--photographer from 1 to 3. We have made no
appointments after 3, Your Majesty."
"Then put down the punitive expedition for 3:15," said the war lord,
twisting his mustache in front of his eyes. "I propose to have this
whole nation kow-tow before me in unison before I leave their miserable
land. Take the necessary measures at once for the ceremony. Now I am
going to call out the whole garrison and see if they are kept in
readiness. You may go, and send me an aide-de-camp. You understand
that you must find me an enemy on whom I can wreak vengeance for all
these wrongs."
"I understand, Your Majesty," said the count, bending low before him.
"I accept this Gospel of Your Majesty's most blessed Person," and he
took his leave.
The expedition did not start promptly at 3:15, for unexpected
complications arose. The other powers wanted to send out punitive
expeditions too, and they sought to have it established that the
Porsslanese laugh was directed against all the fleets as well as
against the Emperor. A judicious distribution of decorations persuaded
all the armies to drop this pretension except the Anglian, and it was
finally arranged that the Tutonian and Anglian armies should cooperate
and take the field together under the Emperor's immediate command. A
week had elapsed before this force was prepared, but it finally started
out, General Fawlorn commanding the Anglian contingent.
Sam, who was still only convalescent and who had been assigned some
duties connected with forwarding despatches which left him a great deal
of leisure, looked with envious eyes upon the departing host. He had
never seen anything like the magnificence of the uniforms of the
Emperor's staff. He envied them their gilt and stars, and he envied
them the prospect of winning the great battles which Balderdash had
promised them. They marched at once upon a fortified town in which a
large force of Fencers were reported to be established. They besieged
it for six days according to all the rules of the Tutonian manual, and
finally entered it with great precautions, and found it absolutely
empty. At one village a regiment of Anglian Asiatics cut to pieces a
hundred natives who were alleged to be Fencers, but it transpired
afterward that none of them were armed. Balderdash was frightened half
to death, expecting his imperial master to protest against the lack of
opposition, but, strange to say, he took it very well and delivered
orations on all occasions extolling the prowess of his troops in
putting to flight the hordes of a vast empire. This campaign lasted a
month, and the expedition finally returned to the port and was received
with all the marks of glory that Tutonian officialism could command.
The Emperor at once cabled to several kings and all his relations that
Providence had graciously preserved him in the midst of great dangers
and brought his enterprise to a successful termination.
"They may be great soldiers," said Cleary one day to Sam, "but they
don't understand the newspaper business. The Emperor has a natural
talent for advertising, but it hasn't been properly cultivated. They
oughtn't to have let it leak out that there wasn't even a battle. Why,
Taffy says he could go from one end of the Empire to the other with a
squadron of cavalry! As for me, I shouldn't mind trying it without the
cavalry. When they did kill any people, it was like killing pheasants
at one of his famous battues. I wonder he wasn't photographed in the
middle of a pile of them, the way he is when he goes shooting at home.
Perhaps he'll get up some sport here in a big hen-coop. I'll suggest
it to Balderdash."
Sam refused to think ill of the great war-lord, and embraced every
opportunity to see him. He had been formally presented to him at a
reception of officers, but there was a crowd present, and Sam did not
expect him to recognize him again. On one occasion Sam happened to be
standing in the street when the Emperor, accompanied by some of his
officers, came past on foot. Sam stood on one side and saluted. To his
surprise the Emperor stopped and beckoned to him. Sam came forward,
bowing, blushing, and stammering.
"I am glad to see an officer of your country here, General," said His
Majesty. "May I ask your name? Ah, Jinks! I have heard your name
before. What do you think of expansion, General?"
"I beg Your Majesty's pardon," said Sam, "but I do not think. I obey
orders."
The Emperor gave an exclamation of surprise and delight.
"Hear that, gentlemen," said he in his own language, turning to his
officers. "He does not think; he obeys orders! There is a model for
you. There is a motto for you to learn. God has given you an Emperor to
think for you. Our friend here, with only a President to fall back on,
has perceived the truth that a soldier must not think. He thinks at his
peril. General," he added in English, "you have given my army a lesson
to-day which they will never forget. It will give me pleasure to
decorate you with the Green Cockatoo, third class."
Sam began to stammer something.
"Oh, yes, I remember. Your Government does not allow you to receive it.
If that restriction is ever removed, let me be informed," and the
Emperor passed on, while Sam determined to write to his uncle and have
this miserable civilian law changed. It so happened that there was a
great dearth of news at this time, and Cleary made the most of this
episode. It did almost as much to make General Jinks famous as anything
that he had done before, and he was widely advertised at home as the
officer who had astounded the Emperor by his wisdom and given a lesson
to the finest army in the world.
[Illustration: THE PERFECT SOLDIER
"THE EMPEROR GAVE AN EXCLAMATION OF SURPRISE AND DELIGHT"]
"Sam, your luck never gives out," said Cleary. "They'll make you a
major-general, I expect, now."
"I should rather like to have the thanks of Congress," answered Sam, as
if that were a mere bagatelle. This conversation occurred in a
restaurant. A young officer was sitting alone at the next table, and he
gave his order to the waiter in a high, penetrating voice.
"Bless my soul! if that isn't Clark," cried Cleary. "See, he's a second
lieutenant still. Let's ask him over to our table."
"Go ahead," said Sam, "but don't say anything about East Point."
Cleary invited him over as a fellow countryman, and the three men dined
together, never once saying anything to denote that they had met
before. Whether Clark noticed that Cleary was rather persistent in
offering him the red pepper for every course, it was impossible to
determine.
It was generally supposed that the Emperor had done all that could be
done in Porsslania, but those who believed this, knew little of the
resources of the first soldier of Christendom. Even Count von
Balderdash was ignorant of the card which his master had determined to
play in view of all mankind.
"Balderdash," said he one night, as the poor count sat trying to
repress his yawns and longing for bed,--"Balderdash, we have shown the
heathen here what we can do. We have exacted vengeance from them. Now I
wish to show to the civilized world, and especially to their armies
here, that we have the best army, the best discipline, the greatest
power on earth, and the bravest Christians in our ranks. I have not
told you yet what I propose to do, but the time has come to go ahead
with it. In our vessel, the _Eagle_, which we brought with us, there
are confined thirty persons convicted at home of the frightful crime of
lese-majesty, a crime which shows that the criminal is atheistic,
anarchistic, and unfit to live. I had them selected among those who
have near relations here in the army. They all have either sons,
brothers, or fathers enlisted here. Of course at home our wretched
parliamentary system would make it inadvisable to have them executed.
Here there is no such difficulty. You have often heard me at the annual
swearing in of recruits tell them that they are now my children and
must do what I say, even if I should order them to shoot down their own
parents. I wish to show the world that this is so, and that my soldiers
believe it and will act upon it. Such an army will inspire terror
indeed. Most of the prisoners are men, but I have included among them
two or three of the most abandoned women, who have been imprisoned for
criticizing my sacred person. You approve of my plan?"
"I approve of all that Your Majesty ever suggests."
"Of course it makes no difference whether you do or not, but I wish you
to have the prisoners brought ashore. You must seek out their
relatives among the troops, but do not let them know why. Then fix the
execution for some day next week, and have a general parade of all the
troops on that occasion."
The Emperor's secret was well kept, and, except that a special parade
was to be held, no one knew what the object was. A glittering array of
soldiers met the war-lord's eyes when he entered the public square
where the army was drawn up. In pursuance of his orders the enlisted
men who were related to the prisoners were alined in front of the
center with a captain in command of them. The Emperor directed his
horse to the spot and addressed the whole army, applying his remarks
particularly, however, to the detail immediately before him.
"My children," said he, "when you took the oath of allegiance as my
soldiers you became members of my family, and it became your solemn
duty to do my bidding, whatever that bidding might be. My word became
for you the Word of God. You gave your consciences into my keeping,
knowing that God had commissioned me to relieve you of that
responsibility. From that moment it was your aim to become perfect
soldiers, with your minds and consciences deposited in my hands for
safe-keeping. From that day forth you no longer had minds nor
consciences--your whole duty was summed up in the obligation to obey
orders. That is the soldier's only duty. And I know, my children, that
you are perfect soldiers and that you stand ever ready to do that duty.
Soldiers in other armies may occasionally forget their calling and
indulge in the forbidden fruits of reason and conscience, but the
Tutonian soldier never! We all know this. For us no proof is necessary.
But I wish to demonstrate the fact to the world. I have brought over
with me across the sea certain of your relations who have been guilty
of the unparalleled crime of lese-majesty. I have determined that they
deserve death, and that you shall carry out the execution. I have so
arranged it that each of the condemned shall be shot by his nearest
relation, be it father, son, or brother. You will show the world that
you are ready, nay, proud to carry out these my commands. I
congratulate you on being selected for this noble and patriotic task.
You are now before the footlights at the center of the world's stage.
Remember that the eyes of all mankind are upon you and that you are my
children. Field-marshal, carry out my orders!"
Count von Balderdash gave some orders in an undertone; the troops
opened on the left, and disclosed a row of prisoners, including several
women, standing bound and blindfolded against a wall, each one at a
distance of several yards from his neighbor. The captain ordered the
detail into position, gave the necessary orders to load, aim, and fire,
and the condemned men and women fell to the ground, each one pierced by
the bullet of his or her near relation.
The great concourse, composed largely of soldiers of the various
foreign armies (for most of them had now been withdrawn from the
Capital and Gin-Sin), looked on with wonder at this spectacle. Sam, who
was standing with the inventor Cope, scanned the faces of the
executioners with care, and was unable to detect the slightest sign of
emotion in them. They had not been prepared in the least for the
ordeal; they did not even know that their relations had been brought
from home, and yet they did their duty as soldiers without changing the
stolid expression of their faces.
"Wonderful, wonderful!" he said to Cope. "These are indeed perfect
soldiers. Why, they move like clockwork, like marvelous machines. And
what a remarkable man the Emperor is--without question the first
soldier of his time and of all time. Was there ever anything like it?"
"Never," answered the inventor.
Sam walked back to his lodgings alone. He wished to think, and
purposely avoided company. He did not notice the soldiers in the
streets, nor the natives in their round, pointed straw hats. He ran
into a man carrying water in two buckets hung from the ends of a pole
balanced on his shoulders, and nearly upset his load. He started back
and collided with a native woman with a baby tied to her back. When he
reached his house, he sat down in an easy-chair in his bedroom and
thought and thought and thought. For some hours his mind was filled
with unmixed admiration for the Emperor and his army. He felt like an
artist who had just seen a new masterpiece that surpassed all the
achievements of the ages, or a musician who had listened to a new
symphony that summed up and transcended all that had ever gone before.
Again and again he pictured to himself the great war-lord in his helmet
and white plume, explaining so eloquently and admirably the duties of a
soldier, and then his soldiers obeying his orders as if their service
were a religion to them, as indeed it was. It grew dark, but Sam did
not heed the darkness. Dinner-time came and went, but he was in a
region far above such vulgar bodily needs.
"Oh, if we only had an emperor," he thought,--"and such an emperor! Why
was I not born a Tutonian?"
This was an unpatriotic thought, and Sam was ashamed of it. Yet it was
true, he would gladly have found himself one of His Majesty's subjects
and a member of his incomparable army. Then he recalled his memorable
interview with the Emperor, and rejoiced in the remembrance that he had
deserved and received his commendation. He tried to imagine how it
would feel to be one of his officers, or even one of his privates. If
he had been selected as one of the squad to show the perfection of
their discipline, how gladly he would have taken his place in line with
the rest! He would have obeyed without flinching, he was sure of it. He
put himself in the place of one of the squad. He is ordered to take his
position opposite one of the condemned. He looks and sees that it is
his Uncle George. Would he obey the order to shoot? Most certainly. The
musket goes off and his uncle falls. He goes through the list of his
friends and relations. He does not quite like to shoot the girls, but
he does it. It is his duty. His commander-in-chief, who represents his
Creator, has ordered it. He can rely implicitly on his wisdom. Then he
thinks of Cleary. Yes, he would shoot Cleary down without hesitation.
And then comes the turn of his father and mother. He has no trouble
with the former, for he is sure that his father as a man must
understand his feelings, and he sees a smile of approval on his face as
he, too, falls prostrate. With his mother it is more difficult. There
had not been much sympathy between them in recent years, yet he
recalled his early boyhood on the farm, and it went against him to aim
his piece at her. But after all it was his duty, and with an inaudible
sigh he pulled the trigger. It was done. No one could have noticed his
reluctance. It was quite likely that some of the soldiers that
afternoon felt as much compunction as that. But as Sam went over all
this long list of tests and passed them successfully, he felt, almost
unconsciously, that he was coming to a precipice. His sense of
happiness had left him, and he began to dread the end of his
cogitations. There was a trial in store that he was afraid of facing.
In order to postpone it he went over all his friends and relations
again, and added mere acquaintances to the list. He busied himself in
this way for an hour or two, but at last the final question forced
itself upon him and insisted upon an answer. Would he be willing to
shoot Marian under orders? It was with misgivings that he began to
imagine this episode. As before, he marched to his place and lifted his
rifle to aim. He sees before him the figure which had been haunting his
dreams ever since he left East Point. She is bound; a handkerchief is
tied over her eyes, but he sees the mouth and longs to kiss it. He has
a strong impulse to run forward and throw his arms around her. The
command "Fire!" is given, but--he does not shoot. He can not. He has
disobeyed orders! He, the man whose one aim in life has been to become
a perfect soldier, who only just now was considering himself fit to be
a soldier of the war-lord, had disobeyed orders; he had shown himself a
mutineer, a deserter, a traitor; he had lost his patriotism and
loyalty; he had dishonored the flag; he had trampled under foot all the
gods that he had worshiped now for many years. He had flatly broken
the only code of morals that he knew--he was a coward, a hypocrite, a
mere civilian, masquerading in the uniform of an officer! Sam buried
his face in his hands and the tears trickled down through his fingers.
Then he sprang up and walked to and fro for a long time. At last he
took Marian's photograph from his pocket and put it on his
dressing-table. He must be a man. He must hold true to his faith. He
screwed up his courage and went through the forms of the afternoon in
his room dimly lighted by lanterns in the street. He stood up in the
line before the Emperor, and again listened to his inspiring speech.
Now he felt sure that he would not fail. He placed himself opposite the
photograph when the order was given. He raised an imaginary gun and
aimed with assurance--but just then his eye fell upon the face which he
could barely distinguish. He saw Marian again as she had been when he
bade her farewell. True, she was as much a believer in the military
scheme of life as he was, but he knew by instinct that she would draw
the line somewhere. She was not created to be a martyr to her faith.
The order "Fire!" came, but Sam, instead of obeying, threw down his
musket and ran forward, seized the photograph and kissed it. He looked
up, half expecting to see a crowd of spectators eying him with
derision. He cast himself upon his bed with his clothes on and tossed
about for a long time, until at last sleep came to his relief.
When he awoke in the morning the sun had long been up. In the first
moments of waking and before he opened his eyes, he could not recall
what it was that was troubling him. Suddenly the whole situation came
back to him, tenfold clearer than before. He saw at once beyond all
possibility of contradiction that he could not shoot Marian, no matter
who ordered him to do it; that for him the ideal of a perfect soldier
was altogether unattainable, and that he was obliged to admit to
himself that his entire life was a failure. The public might praise and
acclaim him, but he was essentially a fraud and could never secure his
own approval.