rains here six months in the year, and that this is the first month. I
came here to serve my country, for which I fought and bled, but I did
not come here to die of rheumatism and pneumonia. I can serve my country
better by staying alive; and whether it rains or not, I don't like it. I
have been grossly deceived, and I am going back. Indeed, by the time you
get this, I will be on my return trip, as I intend leaving with the men
who brought us here as soon as they can get the sail up. My cousin,
Senator Rainsford, can fix it all right with the President, and can have
me recalled in proper form after I get back. But of course it would not
do for me to leave my post with no one to take my place, and no one
could be more ably fitted to do so than yourself; so I feel no
compunctions at leaving you behind. I hereby, therefore, accordingly
appoint you my substitute with full power to act, to collect all fees,
sign all papers, and attend to all matters pertaining to your office as
American consul, and I trust you will worthily uphold the name of that
country and government which it has always been my pleasure and duty to
serve.
"Your sincere friend and superior officer,
"LEONARD T. TRAVIS.
"P.S. I did not care to disturb you by moving my trunk, so I left it,
and you can make what use you please of whatever it contains, as I shall
not want tropical garments where I am going. What you will need most, I
think, is a waterproof and umbrella.
"P.S. Look out for that young man Stedman. He is too inventive. I hope
you will like your high office; but as for myself, I am satisfied with
little old New York. Opeki is just a bit too far from civilization to
suit me."
* * * * *
Albert held the letter before him and read it over again before he
moved. Then he jumped to the window. The boat was gone, and there was
not a sign of it on the horizon.
"The miserable old hypocrite!" he cried, half angry and half laughing.
"If he thinks I am going to stay here alone he is very greatly mistaken.
And yet, why not?" he asked. He stopped soliloquizing and looked around
him, thinking rapidly. As he stood there, Stedman came in from the other
room, fresh and smiling from his morning's bath.
"Good morning," he said, "where's the consul?"
"The consul," said Albert, gravely, "is before you. In me you see the
American consul to Opeki.
"Captain Travis," Albert explained, "has returned to the United States.
I suppose he feels that he can best serve his country by remaining on
the spot. In case of another war, now, for instance, he would be there
to save it again."
"And what are you going to do?" asked Stedman, anxiously. "You will not
run away too, will you?"
Albert said that he intended to remain where he was and perform his
consular duties, to appoint him his secretary, and to elevate the United
States in the opinion of the Opekians above all other nations.
"They may not think much of the United States in England," he said; "but
we are going to teach the people of Opeki that America is first on the
map, and that there is no second."
"I'm sure it's very good of you to make me your secretary," said
Stedman, with some pride. "I hope I won't make any mistakes. What are
the duties of a consul's secretary?"
"That," said Albert, "I do not know. But you are rather good at
inventing, so you can invent a few. That should be your first duty and
you should attend to it at once. I will have trouble enough finding work
for myself. Your salary is five hundred dollars a year; and now," he
continued, briskly, "we want to prepare for this reception. We can tell
the King that Travis was just a guard of honor for the trip, and that I
have sent him back to tell the President of my safe arrival. That will
keep the President from getting anxious. There is nothing," continued
Albert, "like a uniform to impress people who live in the tropics, and
Travis, it so happens, has two in his trunk. He intended to wear them
on State occasions, and as I inherit the trunk and all that is in it, I
intend to wear one of the uniforms, and you can have the other. But I
have first choice, because I am consul."
Captain Travis's consular outfit consisted of one full dress and one
undress United States uniform. Albert put on the dress-coat over a pair
of white flannel trousers, and looked remarkably brave and handsome.
Stedman, who was only eighteen and quite thin, did not appear so well,
until Albert suggested his padding out his chest and shoulders with
towels. This made him rather warm, but helped his general appearance.
"The two Bradleys must dress up, too," said Albert. "I think they ought
to act as a guard of honor, don't you? The only things I have are
blazers and jerseys; but it doesn't much matter what they wear, as long
as they dress alike."
He accordingly called in the two Bradleys, and gave them each a pair of
the captain's rejected white duck trousers, and a blue jersey apiece,
with a big white Y on it.
"The students of Yale gave me that," he said to the younger Bradley, "in
which to play football, and a great man gave me the other. His name is
Walter Camp; and if you rip or soil that jersey, I'll send you back to
England in irons; so be careful."
Stedman gazed at his companions in their different costumes, doubtfully.
"It reminds me," he said, "of private theatricals. Of the time our
church choir played 'Pinafore.'"
"Yes," assented Albert; "but I don't think we look quite gay enough. I
tell you what we need,--medals. You never saw a diplomat without a lot
of decorations and medals."
"Well, I can fix that," Stedman said. "I've got a trunk-full. I used to
be the fastest bicycle-rider in Connecticut, and I've got all my prizes
with me."
Albert said doubtfully that that wasn't exactly the sort of medal he
meant.
"Perhaps not," returned Stedman, as he began fumbling in his trunk; "but
the King won't know the difference. He couldn't tell a cross of the
Legion of Honor from a medal for the tug of war."
So the bicycle medals, of which Stedman seemed to have an innumerable
quantity, were strung in profusion over Albert's uniform, and in a
lesser quantity over Stedman's; while a handful of leaden ones, those
sold on the streets for the Constitutional Centennial, with which
Albert had provided himself, were wrapped up in a red silk handkerchief
for presentation to the King: with them Albert placed a number of brass
rods and brass chains, much to Stedman's delighted approval.
"That is a very good idea," he said. "Democratic simplicity is the right
thing at home, of course; but when you go abroad and mix with crowned
heads, you want to show them that you know what's what."
"Well," said Albert, gravely, "I sincerely hope this crowned head don't
know what's what. If he reads 'Connecticut Agricultural State Fair. One
mile bicycle race. First Prize,' on this badge, when we are trying to
make him believe it's a war medal, it may hurt his feelings."
Bradley, Jr., went ahead to announce the approach of the American
embassy, which he did with so much manner that the King deferred the
audience a half-hour, in order that he might better prepare to receive
his visitors. When the audience did take place, it attracted the entire
population to the green spot in front of the King's palace, and their
delight and excitement over the appearance of the visitors was sincere
and hearty. The King was too polite to appear much surprised, but he
showed his delight over his presents as simply and openly as a child.
Thrice he insisted on embracing Albert, and kissing him three times on
the forehead, which, Stedman assured him in a side whisper, was a great
honor; an honor which was not extended to the secretary, although he was
given a necklace of animals' claws instead, with which he was better
satisfied.
After this reception, the embassy marched back to the consul's office,
surrounded by an immense number of the natives, some of whom ran ahead
and looked back at them, and crowded so close that the two Bradleys had
to poke at those nearest with their guns. The crowd remained outside the
office even after the procession of four had disappeared, and cheered.
This suggested to Gordon that this would be a good time to make a
speech, which he accordingly did, Stedman translating it, sentence by
sentence. At the conclusion of this effort, Albert distributed a number
of brass rings among the married men present, which they placed on
whichever finger fitted best, and departed delighted.
Albert had wished to give the rings to the married women, but Stedman
pointed out to him that it would be much cheaper to give them to the
married men; for while one woman could only have one husband, one man
could have at least six wives.
"And now, Stedman," said Albert, after the mob had gone, "tell me what
you are doing on this island."
"It's a very simple story," Stedman said. "I am the representative, or
agent, or operator, for the Yokohama Cable Company. The Yokohama Cable
Company is a company organized in San Francisco, for the purpose of
laying a cable to Yokohama. It is a stock company; and though it started
out very well, the stock has fallen very low. Between ourselves, it is
not worth over three or four cents. When the officers of the company
found out that no one would buy their stock, and that no one believed in
them or their scheme, they laid a cable to Octavia, and extended it on
to this island. Then they said they had run out of ready money, and
would wait until they got more before laying their cable any further. I
do not think they ever will lay it any further, but that is none of my
business. My business is to answer cable messages from San Francisco, so
that the people who visit the home office can see that at least a part
of the cable is working. That sometimes impresses them, and they buy
stock. There is another chap over in Octavia, who relays all my messages
and all my replies to those messages that come to me through him from
San Francisco. They never send a message unless they have brought some
one to the office whom they want to impress, and who, they think, has
money to invest in the Y.C.C. stock, and so we never go near the wire,
except at three o'clock every afternoon. And then generally only to say
'How are you?' or 'It's raining,' or something like that. I've been
saying 'It's raining' now for the last three months, but to-day I will
say that the new consul has arrived. That will be a pleasant surprise
for the chap in Octavia, for he must be tired hearing about the weather.
He generally answers, 'Here too,' or 'So you said,' or something like
that. I don't know what he says to the home office. He's brighter than I
am, and that's why they put him between the two ends. He can see that
the messages are transmitted more fully and more correctly, in a way to
please possible subscribers."
"Sort of copy editor," suggested Albert.
"Yes, something of that sort, I fancy," said Stedman.
They walked down to the little shed on the shore, where the Y.C.C.
office was placed, at three that day, and Albert watched Stedman send
off his message with much interest. The "chap at Octavia," on being
informed that the American consul had arrived at Opeki, inquired,
somewhat disrespectfully, "Is it a life sentence?"
"What does he mean by that?" asked Albert.
"I suppose," said his secretary, doubtfully, "that he thinks it a sort
of a punishment to be sent to Opeki. I hope you won't grow to think so."
"Opeki is all very well," said Gordon, "or it will be when we get things
going our way."
As they walked back to the office, Albert noticed a brass cannon,
perched on a rock at the entrance to the harbor. This had been put
there by the last consul, but it had not been fired for many years.
Albert immediately ordered the two Bradleys to get it in order, and to
rig up a flag-pole beside it, for one of his American flags, which they
were to salute every night when they lowered it at sundown.
"And when we are not using it," he said, "the King can borrow it to
celebrate with, if he doesn't impose on us too often. The royal salute
ought to be twenty-one guns, I think; but that would use up too much
powder, so he will have to content himself with two."
"Did you notice," asked Stedman that night, as they sat on the veranda
of the consul's house, in the moonlight, "how the people bowed to us as
we passed?"
"Yes," Albert said he had noticed it. "Why?"
"Well, they never saluted me," replied Stedman. "That sign of respect is
due to the show we made at the reception."
"It is due to us, in any event," said the consul, severely. "I tell you,
my secretary, that we, as the representatives of the United States
government, must be properly honored on this island. We must become a
power. And we must do so without getting into trouble with the King. We
must make them honor him, too, and then as we push him up, we will push
ourselves up at the same time."
"They don't think much of consuls in Opeki," said Stedman, doubtfully.
"You see the last one was a pretty poor sort. He brought the office into
disrepute, and it wasn't really until I came and told them what a fine
country the United States was, that they had any opinion of it at all.
Now we must change all that."
"That is just what we will do," said Albert. "We will transform Opeki
into a powerful and beautiful city. We will make these people work. They
must put up a palace for the King, and lay out streets, and build
wharves, and drain the town properly, and light it. I haven't seen this
patent lighting apparatus of yours, but you had better get to work at it
at once, and I'll persuade the King to appoint you commissioner of
highways and gas, with authority to make his people toil. And I," he
cried, in free enthusiasm, "will organize a navy and a standing army.
Only," he added, with a relapse of interest, "there isn't anybody to
fight."
"There isn't?" said Stedman, grimly, with a scornful smile. "You just
go hunt up old Messenwah and the Hillmen with your standing army once,
and you'll get all the fighting you want."
"The Hillmen?" said Albert.
"The Hillmen are the natives that live up there in the hills," Stedman
said, nodding his head towards the three high mountains at the other end
of the island, that stood out blackly against the purple, moonlit sky.
"There are nearly as many of them as there are Opekians, and they hunt
and fight for a living and for the pleasure of it. They have an old
rascal named Messenwah for a king, and they come down here about once
every three months, and tear things up."
Albert sprang to his feet.
"Oh, they do, do they?" he said, staring up at the mountain tops. "They
come down here and tear up things, do they? Well, I think we'll stop
that, I think we'll stop that! I don't care how many there are. I'll get
the two Bradleys to tell me all they know about drilling, to-morrow
morning, and we'll drill these Opekians, and have sham battles, and
attacks, and repulses, until I make a lot of wild, howling Zulus out of
them. And when the Hillmen come down to pay their quarterly visit,
they'll go back again on a run. At least some of them will," he added
ferociously. "Some of them will stay right here."
"Dear me, dear me!" said Stedman, with awe; "you are a born fighter,
aren't you?"
"Well, you wait and see," said Gordon; "may be I am. I haven't studied
tactics of war and the history of battles, so that I might be a great
war correspondent, without learning something. And there is only one
king on this island, and that is old Ollypybus himself. And I'll go over
and have a talk with him about it to-morrow."
Young Stedman walked up and down the length of the veranda, in and out
of the moonlight, with his hands in his pockets, and his head on his
chest. "You have me all stirred up, Gordon," he said; "you seem so
confident and bold, and you're not so much older than I am, either."
"My training has been different; that's all," said the reporter.
"Yes," Stedman said bitterly; "I have been sitting in an office ever
since I left school, sending news over a wire or a cable, and you have
been out in the world, gathering it."
"And now," said Gordon, smiling, and putting his arm around the other
boy's shoulders, "we are going to make news ourselves."
"There is one thing I want to say to you before you turn in," said
Stedman. "Before you suggest all these improvements on Ollypybus, you
must remember that he has ruled absolutely here for twenty years, and
that he does not think much of consuls. He has only seen your
predecessor and yourself. He likes you because you appeared with such
dignity, and because of the presents; but if I were you, I wouldn't
suggest these improvements as coming from yourself."
"I don't understand," said Gordon; "who could they come from?"
"Well," said Stedman, "if you will allow me to advise,--and you see I
know these people pretty well,--I would have all these suggestions come
from the President direct."
"The President!" exclaimed Gordon; "but how? what does the President
know or care about Opeki? and it would take so long--oh, I see, the
cable. Is that what you have been doing?" he asked.
"Well, only once," said Stedman, guiltily; "that was when he wanted to
turn me out of the consul's office, and I had a cable that very
afternoon, from the President, ordering me to stay where I was.
Ollypybus doesn't understand the cable, of course, but he knows that it
sends messages; and sometimes I pretend to send messages for him to the
President; but he began asking me to tell the President to come and pay
him a visit, and I had to stop it."
"I'm glad you told me," said Gordon. "The President shall begin to cable
to-morrow. He will need an extra appropriation from Congress to pay for
his private cablegrams alone."
"And there's another thing," said Stedman. "In all your plans, you've
arranged for the people's improvement, but not for their amusement; and
they are a peaceful, jolly, simple sort of people, and we must please
them."
"Have they no games or amusements of their own?" asked Gordon.
"Well, not what we would call games."
"Very well, then, I'll teach them base-ball. Foot-ball would be too
warm. But that plaza in front of the King's bungalow, where his palace
is going to be, is just the place for a diamond. On the whole, though,"
added the consul, after a moment's reflection, "you'd better attend to
that yourself. I don't think it becomes my dignity as American consul to
take off my coat and give lessons to young Opekians in sliding to bases;
do you? No; I think you'd better do that. The Bradleys will help you,
and you had better begin to-morrow. You have been wanting to know what a
secretary of legation's duties are, and now you know. It's to organize
base-ball nines. And after you get yours ready," he added, as he turned
into his room for the night, "I'll train one that will sweep yours off
the face of the island. For _this_ American consul can pitch three
curves."
The best-laid plans of men go far astray, sometimes, and the great and
beautiful city that was to rise on the coast of Opeki was not built in a
day. Nor was it ever built. For before the Bradleys could mark out the
foul-lines for the base-ball field on the plaza, or teach their standing
army the goose step, or lay bamboo pipes for the water-mains, or clear
away the cactus for the extension of the King's palace, the Hillmen paid
Opeki their quarterly visit.
Albert had called on the King the next morning, with Stedman as his
interpreter, as he had said he would, and, with maps and sketches, had
shown his Majesty what he proposed to do towards improving Opeki and
ennobling her king, and when the King saw Albert's free-hand sketches of
wharves with tall ships lying at anchor, and rows of Opekian warriors
with the Bradleys at their head, and the design for his new palace, and
a royal sedan-chair, he believed that these things were already his, and
not still only on paper, and he appointed Albert his Minister of War,
Stedman his Minister of Home Affairs, and selected two of his wisest and
oldest subjects to serve them as joint advisers. His enthusiasm was even
greater than Gordon's, because he did not appreciate the difficulties.
He thought Gordon a semi-god, a worker of miracles, and urged the
putting up of a monument to him at once in the public plaza, to which
Albert objected, on the ground that it would be too suggestive of an
idol; and to which Stedman also objected, but for the less unselfish
reason that it would "be in the way of the pitcher's box."
They were feverishly discussing all these great changes, and Stedman was
translating as rapidly as he could translate, the speeches of four
different men,--for the two counsellors had been called in, all of whom
wanted to speak at once,--when there came from outside a great shout,
and the screams of women, and the clashing of iron, and the pattering
footsteps of men running.
As they looked at one another in startled surprise, a native ran into
the room, followed by Bradley, Jr., and threw himself down before the
King. While he talked, beating his hands and bowing before Ollypybus,
Bradley, Jr., pulled his forelock to the consul, and told how this man
lived on the far outskirts of the village; how he had been captured
while out hunting, by a number of the Hillmen; and how he had escaped to
tell the people that their old enemies were on the war path again, and
rapidly approaching the village.
Outside, the women were gathering in the plaza, with the children about
them, and the men were running from hut to hut, warning their fellows,
and arming themselves with spears and swords, and the native bows and
arrows.
"They might have waited until we had that army trained," said Gordon, in
a tone of the keenest displeasure. "Tell me, quick, what do they
generally do when they come?"
"Steal all the cattle and goats, and a woman or two, and set fire to the
huts in the outskirts," replied Stedman.
"Well, we must stop them," said Gordon, jumping up. "We must take out a
flag of truce and treat with them. They must be kept off until I have my
army in working order. It is most inconvenient. If they had only waited
two months, now, or six weeks even, we could have done something; but
now we must make peace. Tell the King we are going out to fix things
with them, and tell him to keep off his warriors until he learns whether
we succeed or fail."
"But, Gordon!" gasped Stedman. "Albert! You don't understand. Why, man,
this isn't a street fight or a cane rush. They'll stick you full of
spears, dance on your body, and eat you, maybe. A flag of truce!--you're
talking nonsense. What do they know of a flag of truce?"
"You're talking nonsense, too," said Albert, "and you're talking to your
superior officer. If you are not with me in this, go back to your cable,
and tell the man in Octavia that it's a warm day, and that the sun is
shining; but if you've any spirit in you,--and I think you have,--run to
the office and get my Winchester rifles, and the two shot guns, and my
revolvers, and my uniform, and a lot of brass things for presents, and
run all the way there and back. And make time. Play you're riding a
bicycle at the Agricultural Fair."
Stedman did not hear this last; for he was already off and away, pushing
through the crowd, and calling on Bradley, Sr., to follow him. Bradley,
Jr., looked at Gordon with eyes that snapped, like a dog that is waiting
for his master to throw a stone.
"I can fire a Winchester, sir," he said. "Old Tom can't. He's no good at
long range 'cept with a big gun, sir. Don't give him the Winchester.
Give it to me, please, sir."
Albert met Stedman in the plaza, and pulled off his blazer, and put on
Captain Travis's--now his--uniform coat, and his white pith helmet.
"Now, Jack," he said, "get up there and tell these people that we are
going out to make peace with these Hillmen, or bring them back prisoners
of war. Tell them we are the preservers of their homes and wives and
children; and you, Bradley, take these presents, and young Bradley, keep
close to me, and carry this rifle."
Stedman's speech was hot and wild enough to suit a critical and feverish
audience before a barricade in Paris. And when he was through, Gordon
and Bradley punctuated his oration by firing off the two Winchester
rifles in the air, at which the people jumped and fell on their knees,
and prayed to their several gods. The fighting men of the village
followed the four white men to the outskirts, and took up their stand
there as Stedman told them to do, and the four walked on over the
roughly hewn road, to meet the enemy.
Gordon walked with Bradley, Jr., in advance. Stedman and old Tom Bradley
followed close behind, with the two shot-guns, and the presents in a
basket.
"Are these Hillmen used to guns?" asked Gordon. Stedman said no, they
were not.
"This shot-gun of mine is the only one on the island," he explained,
"and we never came near enough them, before, to do anything with it. It
only carries a hundred yards. The Opekians never make any show of
resistance. They are quite content if the Hillmen satisfy themselves
with the outlying huts, as long as they leave them and the town alone;
so they seldom come to close quarters."