HERR SCHWANKMACHER'S CABBAGES
A little before twelve on Monday, Herr Rudolph Schwankmacher, one of
the most respected residents of Apia, capital of Samoa, was reclining
under the shade of a plantain in his garden beyond the promontory of
Mulinuu, enjoying the conversation of a friend and the refreshing
bitterness of a bottle of light lager beer. The garden rose a few feet
above the level of the ground in front of it, and afforded an
excellent view over the sea. Hither Herr Schwankmacher was wont to
retire for a brief spell of rest and meditation in the heat of the
day, and on this occasion he had been accompanied by a compatriot
newly arrived from Germany, to whom he was expatiating on the
pleasures of colonial life in general, and in particular on the
delights of rearing cabbages in so rich and prolific a soil.
"Yes," he said, "you will find no cabbages like these in Germany. You
see them. They are grown from seed. It is not a month since I put the
seed in the ground, and the plants are already flourishing. They will
soon be full-grown, and then I shall pickle them, and have for every
day in the year a dish that will remind me as I eat it of the days of
my youth in the dear Homeland. Ach! the Homeland; it is very dear. I
love it, although I would not return to it for the world. This is the
happy land, my friend. It is a fairland. It is a beautiful land for
copra, flowers, and cabbages. I am content."
He tossed off a glass of beer and lay back on the green sward, puffing
at a pipe and gazing benignly up into the broad-leaved canopy that
sheltered him from the midday sun. For some time he reclined thus,
dropping a word now and then to his companion, answering his
questions, but always returning to the cabbages.
As they lay in this placidity and ease they were suddenly aware of a
slight buzzing in the air. Herr Schwankmacher raised himself on his
elbow, and looked around for the insect that had dared to intrude into
this peaceful cabbage-patch. There was no insect in sight of such a
size as to account for the deep-toned hum, which was growing louder
moment by moment.
"This is strange," he said. "I never heard such a noise before."
"I have heard it," said his friend. "I have heard it very close. The
last time was when Count Zeppelin's airship came down in the
Teutoberger Wald. I was there."
"So; but Count Zeppelin would not be here in Samoa. We have no
airships here. The newspapers say that there is much activity in
Europe, especially among the French and English, in this new pastime,
but I dare say the greater part of what they say is lies. But really,
the noise is becoming very great; I am unable to explain it."
Both men were now sitting erect, looking to right, to left, seawards,
landwards, towards the hills. All at once the sound ceased, a shadow
was cast upon them, and before they could realize the situation a
strange, uncouth object glided from behind them over the plantains,
and came to rest in the centre of the cabbage-patch.
Herr Schwankmacher sprang to his feet with a nimbleness surprising in
a man of his size, and rushed forward, snorting with rage and
indignation. His friend followed, neither indignant nor enraged, but
very much interested in the occurrence. His intelligent eyes gleamed
behind his glasses; he had himself experienced aerial adventures.
It chanced that Rodier was the first to step out of the machine. As
the burly, bearded, white-clad figure of Herr Schwankmacher cantered
heavily toward him, he lifted his cap, and with that sunny smile
which had accompanied him through life, he said--
"Monsieur, je vous fais mille excuses. Voudriez-vou bien me dire ou
l'on puisse obtenir de la pétrole."
"Sapperment!" cried the infuriated German. "Es ist ein kriechender
Franzose!"
It was well that Rodier did not understand him, or, never having been
called a sneaking Frenchman before, he would certainly have fallen
tooth and nail on the offender, though in respect of bulk the German
would have made two of him. Fortunately for the keeping of peace, he
was quite ignorant of the German tongue, and when Herr Schwankmacher
proceeded to shake his pipe at him, and deliver his opinion of
trespassers in general and French trespassers in particular, with
intermittent allusions to cabbages, Rodier only listened with the same
gentle smile and deprecating movements of his grimy hands.
Smith, joining him, addressed Herr Schwankmacher in English, but his
intervention seemed only to add fuel to the flames. The German knew no
English; neither Smith nor Rodier knew German; and the affair promised
to come to a deadlock. But here a peacemaker stepped in. Herr
Schwankmacher's friend, who appeared to be greatly amused, stepped
forward with a noticeable limp.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, zis is not business. Permit me, sir," he said
to Smith.
He took Herr Schwankmacher by the arm, and spoke a few words to him;
upon which the German consented to be silent and in dudgeon resumed
his pipe.
"My friend, sir," the second man went on, "is vat you call chippy
because you come plomp into his bed of cabbage, very fine vegetable,
vich remind him of his youthful days in ze ever-to-beloved Homeland."
"Oh, well," said Smith, "assure him that I am very sorry. I didn't
mean to hurt his cabbages, and I'll pay for any damage that I've
done."
"Was sagt er?" said Herr Schwankmacher suspiciously.
His friend translated Smith's words. Schwankmacher grunted.
"The fact is," continued Smith, "we've run short of petrol, and I had
to come down. I hoped to make Apia; that is it, yonder, I suppose?"
"Zat is so. You vant petrol. Zen I introduce you to excellent firma
vat supply ze Commandant. It is good petrol; I know it, for ze firma
receive large consignments of it from ze highly respectable firma I
haf ze honour to represent--Schlagintwert Gesellschaft of Düsseldorf.
Sir, viz compliments."
He took from a capacious pocket a bulky book in a red paper wrapper.
"Zis is our price list, sir, revise and correct. Ve can supply anyzink
vatefer, and I shall esteem it great favour to haf ze opportunity to
quote for petrol, machine oil, planes, stays, plugs, propellers,
levers, air-bags, goggles, overalls, accumulators--"
"Thanks, but at present I want nothing but petrol and machine oil, and
I must have them at once, as I have to start for Honolulu without
delay."
"For Honolulu, sir?"
"Yes."
"Across ze sea?"
"There's no other way, is there?"
"Sree sousand miles?"
"Rather less, isn't it?"
"Ach! zis knocks me into a--vat you call it?--into a billycock."
He turned to Herr Schwankmacher, who had just refilled his pipe, and
repeated to him the astounding announcement. The German scoffed.
Seeing that there was no help for it if he wished to get away in a
reasonable time, Smith explained that he was halfway on a voyage round
the world, and had not a minute to spare.
"Ach! business are business. Zat is vat take me round ze world. Permit
me, sir."
He handed Smith a large business card, inscribed with the name
"Hildebrand Schwab," and the address of his firm in Düsseldorf.
"Ve shall lose no time, sir," he added. "Zis is ze most amazing zink
zat efer haf I heard, and I esteem it great honour to haf ze
opportunity to introduce you to ze excellent firma vat supply you viz
petrol for your so vonderful machine. Vun minute until I tell Herr
Schwankmacher, zen ve go doublequick."
Herr Schwankmacher's vexation and incredulity vanished together when
his friend told him the facts of the case. He was a good fellow at
bottom, and now that he knew that the aeroplane's descent in his
garden was purely accidental, he was ready to do all in his power to
speed the parting guest. In a few minutes Smith was hurrying along the
shore road with a German on either side, at his left the surf roaring
on the fringe of coral reef, at his right a screen of tufted palms and
plantations running up the lower slopes of the mountains. He soon came
to a collection of drinking-bars and stores, all bearing German names.
Herr Schwankmacher, now transformed into a cordial host, invited him
to drink a bottle of lager with him at one of the bars, but he excused
himself and followed Schwab into a large store where every sort of
requisite for machines was kept in stock.
The purchase of petrol proved to be a lengthy transaction, for Schwab
was impelled to tell the story to the store-keeper, he repeated it to
his clerks, they ran out to tell the neighbours, and the place was
soon thronged with Germans--merchants, clerks, sailors, stokers--all
eager to see the airman who was flying round the world. The store was
filled with smoke and gutturals. The purchase being at last concluded,
the cans were rolled to a motor lorry which lumbered along in the
direction of Mulinuu like a triumphal car at the head of a procession.
First came Smith with Schwankmacher on his right and Schwab on his
left; then a crowd of the German population, in which wealthy
merchants found themselves neighbours to grimy stokers, and youthful
clerks to the inevitable uniforms; the tail was formed of swarthy
Samoans, men and women, skipping boys and laughing girls with flowers
in their hair.
Rodier had cleaned the engine, and was eating his dinner among the
cabbages. He favoured the crowd with a pleasant smile, although some
were Germans, and because others were pretty.
The petrol was placed on board and the tank filled, Smith, with
long-suffering patience, replying to the questions of the
English-speaking spectators. All was at last ready for the start;
Schwab, who alone of the company had knowledge of the conditions, made
himself useful in clearing the course; and Schwankmacher positively
declined to accept payment for the plants which had been crushed under
the aeroplane, and those which were trampled by the spectators' feet.
When the airmen were in their places, Schwab limped up.
"Permit me to shake hands viz ze first circumnavigator of ze sky," he
said with effusion, "and to remind you zat my firma Schlagintwert vill
be most happy to supply you viz anyzink vatefer zat you need, and in
vatefer region of ze globe you may be, on receipt of postcard,
telegram, cable, or Marconigram. Hoch!"
His cheer was taken up by the crowd. The machine moved forward. Herr
Schwankmacher, stepping back, fell into the arms of a grinning stoker,
and a little native boy, shrieking with fright, ran head-first into
the corpulent frame of a merchant who was more stable in his copra
business than in his legs. The aeroplane flew up; the crowd watched
its ascension like adoring worshippers of some sky deity; and in three
minutes it was a mere speck in the cloudless blue.