"A REPUBLIC WITHOUT A PRESIDENT."
The Colonel paced his cabin alone. The new expression which success
models was becoming intensified from day to day upon his face. He had
outwitted the greatest nation in the world; he had defied the best
detective service of modern times; he was rich beyond his dizziest
dreams; he could aspire to any position; he would be an eastern prince
perhaps, and drowsy-looking girls should wave peacock fans and soothe
his memory to rest with crooning songs. What a delicious future he saw
rising before him! His consummate stroke of piracy should purchase him a
life of lotus ease.
The Colonel, had at last achieved; and, as is too often the case with
extraordinary success, his stupendous act had robbed him of vitality and
invention. Already he felt and acknowledged a dismemberment of his will.
But a few days before, he was of all men, the most alert, the most
ingenious, the most courageous, the most ambitious; while now, he lived
in dreams, which he evoked as persistently as the witch of Endor evoked
the ghost of Saul. His nature had undergone a revolution, in which he
gloried. Had he been poor, he would not have accepted his sudden
enervation without a struggle. But he was rich--thank God! rich--and
rejoiced that he was to gratify his new-born languor.
His son alone had access to his luxurious cabin. That boy, who had been
the ready and ignorant accomplice of his father's picturesque villainy,
had already begun to grow thin with shame. He saw his father transformed
from a virile into a sleek man. He himself had changed during the few
days of his knowledge of the secret from a pliant boy into a silent
accusation. The Colonel could not look his son straight in the eyes.
This was the first warning to his diseased mind that he was not the
greatest man of his age.
The Colonel had moreover a sense of security that unapprehended
malefactors cannot feel. The pledge of the United States Government had
been solemnly given. He could not be punished. His freedom was assured.
Whenever he paced the deck, he filled his lungs with the pure, salt air,
and allowed them to expand without stint. There was nothing contracted
on his horizon. True, he had lost his country--but he had gained wealth.
He felt sure of admiration, and of some applause. He remembered that an
unextradited bank-robber had purchased a barony from the King of
Wuertemburg, and had lived there much respected. What position might he
not buy with his American gold?
Still, he was haunted by a feeling of mingled dissatisfaction and unrest
that marred the pride he felt in his own achievement. Was it due to his
son's speechless denunciation? Or did it come from the fact that his
authority seemed to be impaired? There was no insubordination nor mutiny
among the sailors. It had not gone so far as that, with the well-paid
and well-fed men. Perhaps it never would. But men do not easily obey a
scoundrel or an outlaw except when it is understood that they are felons
themselves.
In a certain sense the crew of the "Lightning" rejoiced in their
master's superb feat. The venom of piracy had entered their veins. They
firmly believed that Colonel Odminton would soon cast off his mask, and
turn the most wonderful product of marine architecture into an
irresistible pirate craft.
They dreamed of an inaccessible island--of confused wealth, of many
vices, and unrestricted carousals. Therefore they still obeyed readily,
but with an air of _abandon_ that puzzled their commander. But Colonel
Odminton did not suspect these natural speculations, for he was looking
forward to a life of great respectability as well as of unrivalled
luxury.
For ten days or so, the "Lightning" danced over the Atlantic. Of course,
it must come to shore somewhere. People cannot live on gold. They must
eat. The superb electric vessel had ice-making machines; and retorts for
distilling the salt water into fresh; but no electrodes were there, to
reduce wood to sugar or coal to beef. The Colonel felt his cheek sting
with the excitement of coming to land. At the same time he felt a
reluctance to do so. He dreaded to meet men. He could not expel the
consciousness that is common to all culprits,--namely, the feeling that
he would be the centre of observation. He could not be apprehended; but
supposing that he were not well received?
On the other hand, when the crew learned of the decision to make for
land, they were almost riotous with joy. They were mad for the
long-delayed chance to spend their high wages in vice and drink. If
nations would conspire to pass an international law to prohibit women
and rum at every port, what a magnificent stride to uninterrupted
manhood all sailors would be forced to take!
But Captain Hans Christian shook his head as the "Lightning" forged
toward the land.
There were some traits that Rupert did not inherit. His limpid heart
understood the disgrace of his position. He pined for freedom and
gradually wasted away. With feverish eyes he watched for the English
coast. It is possible that he had, bereft of an honest father, meditated
desertion at his first opportunity.
Now, at last, they sighted land. The vessel that was swifter than all
other ships afloat, was undisguised. The Colonel had no thought of
converting her into the "Mary Jane" again. No flight, no concealment was
now necessary. It was just past sunrise when the "Lightning" glided into
the troubled harbor of Penzance.
The inhabitants of Land's End are no stay-a-beds, and when the
oil-skinned fishermen, who were ready to push their boats off in the
rising tide, lifted up their eyes and beheld the graceful monster
mysteriously undulating in, with no help of sails or steam, they called
to each other, they uttered direful exclamations, and they assembled in
ever increasing groups upon the sands. One ran to the public house and
brought back to the throng a greasy proclamation, upon which the picture
of a vessel was stamped.
Upon the cliffs, red-coats pointed to the stranger, and shook their
heads ominously.
Before the "Lightning" had dropped her anchor, the whole population of
Penzance was out, gesticulating, pointing, execrating.
"That's she, sure enough. That's her sheer in the pictur'. Them's the
di-mensions given. Blast the pirates! Old England hain't no place for
them."
"'Ere, Bill! you get the Colonel down. We'll send 'em buzzin' to Davy
Jones' locker if they ventur' ashore here!"
The "Lightning" had come to anchor without colors at her stern. As she
had no mast, there was no opportunity to fly a signal at her head, or
the Union Jack at her peak. After the manner of steam yachts she had a
pole that could be fitted in a raking position aft.
"As it isn't eight bells, we need no flags," explained Colonel Odminton.
"Shall we fly the Union Jack, then?" asked Captain Hans Christian.