said Gordon. "And these men are used to gold lace."
He pushed his way through the natives, and stepped confidently across
the plaza. The youngest middy saw him coming, and nudged the one next
him with his elbow, and he nudged the next, but none of the officers
moved, because the captain had begun to read.
"One minute, please," called Gordon.
He stepped out into the hollow square formed by the marines, and
raised his helmet to the captain.
"Do you speak English or French?" Gordon said in French; "I do not
understand German."
The captain lowered the book in his hands and gazed reflectively at
Gordon through his spectacles, and made no reply.
"If I understand this," said the younger man, trying to be very
impressive and polite, "you are laying claim to this land, in behalf
of the German Government."
The captain continued to observe him thoughtfully, and then said,
"That is so," and then asked, "Who are you?"
"I represent the King of this island, Ollypybus, whose people you see
around you. I also represent the United States Government, that does
not tolerate a foreign power near her coast, since the days of
President Monroe and before. The treaty you have made with Messenwah
is an absurdity. There is only one king with whom to treat, and he--"
The captain turned to one of his officers and said something, and
then, after giving another curious glance at Gordon, raised his book
and continued reading, in a deep, unruffled monotone. The officer
whispered an order, and two of the marines stepped out of line, and
dropping the muzzles of their muskets, pushed Gordon back out of the
enclosure, and left him there with his lips white, and trembling all
over with indignation. He would have liked to have rushed back into
the lines and broken the captain's spectacles over his sun-tanned nose
and cheeks, but he was quite sure this would only result in his
getting shot, or in his being made ridiculous before the natives,
which was almost as bad; so he stood still for a moment, with his
blood choking him, and then turned and walked back to where the King
and Stedman were whispering together. Just as he turned, one of the
men pulled the halyards, the ball of bunting ran up into the air,
bobbed, twitched, and turned, and broke into the folds of the German
flag. At the same moment the marines raised their muskets and fired a
volley, and the officers saluted and the sailors cheered.
"Do you see that?" cried Stedman, catching Gordon's humor, to
Ollypybus; "that means that you are no longer king, that strange
people are coming here to take your land, and to turn your people into
servants, and to drive you back into the mountains. Are you going to
submit? are you going to let that flag stay where it is?"
Messenwah and Ollypybus gazed at one another with fearful, helpless
eyes. "We are afraid," Ollypybus cried; "we do not know what we should
do."
"What do they say?"
"They say they do not know what to do."
"I know what I'd do," cried Gordon. "If I were not an American consul,
I'd pull down their old flag, and put a hole in their boat and sink
her."
"Well, I'd wait until they get under way before you do either of those
things," said Stedman, soothingly. "That captain seems to be a man of
much determination of character."
"But I will pull it down," cried Gordon. "I will resign, as Travis
did. I am no longer consul. You can be consul if you want to. I
promote you. I am going up a step higher. I mean to be king. Tell
those two," he ran on, excitedly, "that their only course and only
hope is in me; that they must make me ruler of the island until this
thing is over; that I will resign again as soon as it is settled, but
that some one must act at once, and if they are afraid to, I am not,
only they must give me authority to act for them. They must abdicate
in my favor."
"Are you in earnest?" gasped Stedman.
"Don't I talk as if I were?" demanded Gordon, wiping the perspiration
from his forehead.
"And can I be consul?" said Stedman, cheerfully.
"Of course. Tell them what I propose to do."
Stedman turned and spoke rapidly to the two kings. The people gathered
closer to hear.
The two rival monarchs looked at one another in silence for a moment,
and then both began to speak at once, their counsellors interrupting
them and mumbling their guttural comments with anxious earnestness. It
did not take them very long to see that they were all of one mind, and
then they both turned to Gordon and dropped on one knee, and placed
his hands on their foreheads, and Stedman raised his cap.
"They agree," he explained, for it was but pantomime to Albert. "They
salute you as a ruler; they are calling you Tellaman, which means
peacemaker. The Peacemaker, that is your title. I hope you will
deserve it, but I think they might have chosen a more appropriate
one."
"Then I'm really King?" demanded Albert, decidedly, "and I can do what
I please? They give me full power. Quick, do they?"
"Yes, but don't do it," begged Stedman, "and just remember I am
American consul now, and that is a much superior being to a crowned
monarch; you said so yourself."
Albert did not reply to this, but ran across the plaza, followed by
the two Bradleys. The boats had gone.
"Hoist that flag beside the brass cannon," he cried, "and stand ready
to salute it when I drop this one."
Bradley, Jr., grasped the halyards of the flag, which he had forgotten
to raise and salute in the morning in all the excitement of the
arrival of the man-of-war. Bradley, Sr., stood by the brass cannon,
blowing gently on his lighted fuse. The Peacemaker took the halyards
of the German flag in his two hands, gave a quick, sharp tug, and down
came the red, white, and black piece of bunting, and the next moment
young Bradley sent the Stars and Stripes up in its place. As it rose,
Bradley's brass cannon barked merrily like a little bull-dog, and the
Peacemaker cheered.
"Why don't you cheer, Stedman?" he shouted. "Tell those people to
cheer for all they are worth. What sort of an American consul are
you?"
Stedman raised his arm half-heartedly to give the time, and opened his
mouth; but his arm remained fixed and his mouth open, while his eyes
stared at the retreating boat of the German man-of-war. In the stern
sheets of this boat the stout German captain was struggling unsteadily
to his feet; he raised his arm and waved it to some one on the great
man-of-war, as though giving an order. The natives looked from Stedman
to the boat, and even Gordon stopped in his cheering, and stood
motionless, watching. They had not very long to wait. There was a puff
of white smoke, and a flash, and then a loud report, and across the
water came a great black ball skipping lightly through and over the
waves, as easily as a flat stone thrown by a boy. It seemed to come
very slowly. At least it came slowly enough for every one to see that
it was coming directly toward the brass cannon. The Bradleys certainly
saw this, for they ran as fast as they could, and kept on running. The
ball caught the cannon under its mouth and tossed it in the air,
knocking the flag-pole into a dozen pieces, and passing on through two
of the palm-covered huts.
"Great Heavens, Gordon!" cried Stedman; "they are firing on us."
But Gordon's face was radiant and wild.
"Firing on _us_!" he cried. "On us! Don't you see? Don't you understand?
What do _we_ amount to? They have fired on the American flag! Don't
you see what that means? It means war. A great international war. And
I am a war correspondent at last!" He ran up to Stedman and seized him
by the arm so tightly that it hurt.
"By three o'clock," he said, "they will know in the office what has
happened. The country will know it to-morrow when the paper is on the
street; people will read it all over the world. The Emperor will hear
of it at breakfast; the President will cable for further particulars.
He will get them. It is the chance of a lifetime, and we are on the
spot!"
Stedman did not hear this; he was watching the broadside of the ship
to see another puff of white smoke, but there came no such sign. The
two row-boats were raised, there was a cloud of black smoke from the
funnel, a creaking of chains sounding faintly across the water, and
the ship started at half-speed and moved out of the harbor. The
Opekians and the Hillmen fell on their knees, or to dancing, as best
suited their sense of relief, but Gordon shook his head.
"They are only going to land the marines," he said; "perhaps they are
going to the spot they stopped at before, or to take up another
position farther out at sea. They will land men and then shell the
town, and the land forces will march here and co-operate with the
vessel, and everybody will be taken prisoner or killed. We have the
centre of the stage, and we are making history."
"I'd rather read it than make it," said Stedman. "You've got us in a
senseless, silly position, Gordon, and a mighty unpleasant one. And
for no reason that I can see, except to make copy for your paper."
"Tell those people to get their things together," said Gordon, "and
march back out of danger into the woods. Tell Ollypybus I am going to
fix things all right; I don't know just how yet, but I will, and now
come after me as quickly as you can to the cable office. I've got to
tell the paper all about it."
It was three o'clock before the "chap at Octavia" answered Stedman's
signalling. Then Stedman delivered Gordon's message, and immediately
shut off all connection, before the Octavia operator could question
him. Gordon dictated his message in this way:--
"Begin with the date line, 'Opeki, June 22.'
"At seven o'clock this morning, the captain and officers of the German
man-of-war _Kaiser_ went through the ceremony of annexing this
island in the name of the German Emperor, basing their right to do so
on an agreement made with a leader of a wandering tribe known as the
Hillmen. King Ollypybus, the present monarch of Opeki, delegated his
authority, as also did the leader of the Hillmen, to King Tellaman, or
the Peacemaker, who tore down the German flag, and raised that of the
United States in its place. At the same moment the flag was saluted by
the battery. This salute, being mistaken for an attack on the
_Kaiser_, was answered by that vessel. Her first shot took
immediate effect, completely destroying the entire battery of the
Opekians, cutting down the American flag, and destroying the houses of
the people--"
"There was only one brass cannon and two huts," expostulated Stedman.
"Well, that was the whole battery, wasn't it?" asked Gordon, "and two
huts is plural. I said houses of the people. I couldn't say two houses
of the people. Just you send this as you get it. You are not an
American consul at the present moment. You are an under-paid agent of
a cable company, and you send my stuff as I write it. The American
residents have taken refuge in the consulate--that's us," explained
Gordon, "and the English residents have sought refuge in the
woods--that's the Bradleys. King Tellaman--that's me--declares his
intention of fighting against the annexation. The forces of the
Opekians are under the command of Captain Thomas Bradley--I guess I
might as well make him a colonel--of Colonel Thomas Bradley, of the
English army.
"The American consul says--Now, what do you say, Stedman? Hurry up,
please," asked Gordon, "and say something good and strong."
"You get me all mixed up," complained Stedman, plaintively. "Which am
I now, a cable operator or the American consul?"
"Consul, of course. Say something patriotic and about your
determination to protect the interests of your government, and all
that." Gordon bit the end of his pencil impatiently, and waited.
"I won't do anything of the sort, Gordon," said Stedman; "you are
getting me into an awful lot of trouble, and yourself too. I won't say
a word."
"The American consul," read Gordon, as his pencil wriggled across the
paper, "refuses to say anything for publication until he has
communicated with the authorities at Washington, but from all I can
learn he sympathizes entirely with Tellaman. Your correspondent has
just returned from an audience with King Tellaman, who rules him to
inform the American people that the Monroe doctrine will be sustained
as long as he rules this island. I guess that's enough to begin with,"
said Gordon. "Now send that off quick, and then get away from the
instrument before the man in Octavia begins to ask questions. I am
going out to precipitate matters."
Gordon found the two kings sitting dejectedly side by side, and gazing
grimly upon the disorder of the village, from which the people were
taking their leave as quickly as they could get their few belongings
piled upon the ox-carts. Gordon walked among them, helping them in
every way he could, and tasting, in their subservience and gratitude,
the sweets of sovereignty. When Stedman had locked up the cable office
and rejoined him, he bade him tell Messenwah to send three of his
youngest men and fastest runners back to the hills to watch for the
German vessel and see where she was attempting to land her marines.
"This is a tremendous chance for descriptive writing, Stedman," said
Gordon, enthusiastically; "all this confusion and excitement, and the
people leaving their homes, and all that. It's like the people getting
out of Brussels before Waterloo, and then the scene at the foot of the
mountains, while they are camping out there, until the Germans leave.
I never had a chance like this before."
It was quite dark by six o'clock, and none of the three messengers had
as yet returned. Gordon walked up and down the empty plaza and looked
now at the horizon for the man-of-war, and again down the road back of
the village. But neither the vessel nor the messengers bearing word of
her appeared. The night passed without any incident, and in the
morning Gordon's impatience became so great that he walked out to
where the villagers were in camp and passed on half way up the
mountain, but he could see no sign of the man-of-war. He came back
more restless than before, and keenly disappointed.
"If something don't happen before three o'clock, Stedman," he said,
"our second cablegram will have to consist of glittering generalities
and a lengthy interview with King Tellaman, by himself."
Nothing did happen. Ollypybus and Messenwah began to breathe more
freely. They believed the new king had succeeded in frightening the
German vessel away forever. But the new king upset their hopes by
telling them that the Germans had undoubtedly already landed, and had
probably killed the three messengers.
"Now then," he said, with pleased expectation, as Stedman and he
seated themselves in the cable office at three o'clock, "open it up
and let's find out what sort of an impression we have made."
Stedman's face, as the answer came in to his first message of
greeting, was one of strangely marked disapproval.
"What does he say?" demanded Gordon, anxiously.
"He hasn't done anything but swear yet," answered Stedman, grimly.
"What is he swearing about?"
"He wants to know why I left the cable yesterday. He says he has been
trying to call me up for the last twenty-four hours, ever since I sent
my message at three o'clock. The home office is jumping mad, and want
me discharged. They won't do that, though," he said, in a cheerful
aside, "because they haven't paid me my salary for the last eight
months. He says--great Scott! this will please you, Gordon--he says
that there have been over two hundred queries for matter from papers
all over the United States, and from Europe. Your paper beat them on
the news, and now the home office is packed with San Francisco
reporters, and the telegrams are coming in every minute, and they have
been abusing him for not answering them, and he says that I'm a fool.
He wants as much as you can send, and all the details. He says all the
papers will have to put 'By Yokohama Cable Company' on the top of each
message they print, and that that is advertising the company, and is
sending the stock up. It rose fifteen points on 'change in San
Francisco to-day, and the president and the other officers are
buying--"
"Oh, I don't want to hear about their old company," snapped out
Gordon, pacing up and down in despair. "What am I to do? that's what I
want to know. Here I have the whole country stirred up and begging for
news. On their knees for it, and a cable all to myself, and the only
man on the spot, and nothing to say. I'd just like to know how long
that German idiot intends to wait before he begins shelling this town
and killing people. He has put me in a most absurd position."
"Here's a message for you, Gordon," said Stedman, with business-like
calm. "Albert Gordon, correspondent," he read. "Try American consul.
First message O.K.; beat the country; can take all you send. Give
names of foreign residents massacred, and fuller account blowing up
palace. Dodge."
The expression on Gordon's face as this message was slowly read off to
him, had changed from one of gratified pride to one of puzzled
consternation.
"What's he mean by foreign residents massacred, and blowing up of
palace?" asked Stedman, looking over his shoulder anxiously. "Who is
Dodge?"
"Dodge is the night editor," said Gordon, nervously. "They must have
read my message wrong. You sent just what I gave you, didn't you?" he
asked.
"Of course I did," said Stedman, indignantly.
"I didn't say anything about the massacre of anybody, did I?" asked
Gordon. "I hope they are not improving on my account. What _am_ I
to do? This is getting awful. I'll have to go out and kill a few
people myself. Oh, why don't that Dutch captain begin to do something!
What sort of a fighter does he call himself? He wouldn't shoot at a
school of porpoises. He's not--"
"Here comes a message to Leonard T. Travis, American consul, Opeki,"
read Stedman. "It's raining messages to-day. 'Send full details of
massacre of American citizens by German sailors.' Secretary of--great
Scott!" gasped Stedman, interrupting himself and gazing at his
instrument with horrified fascination--"the Secretary of State."
"That settles it," roared Gordon, pulling at his hair and burying his
face in his hands. "I have _got_ to kill some of them now."
"Albert Gordon, correspondent," read Stedman, impressively, like the
voice of Fate. "Is Colonel Thomas Bradley, commanding native forces
at Opeki, Colonel Sir Thomas Kent-Bradley of Crimean war fame?
Correspondent London _Times_, San Francisco Press Club."
"Go on, go on!" said Gordon, desperately. "I'm getting used to it now.
Go on!"
"American consul, Opeki," read Stedman. "Home Secretary desires you to
furnish list of names English residents killed during shelling of
Opeki by ship of war _Kaiser_, and estimate of amount property
destroyed. Stoughton, British Embassy, Washington."
"Stedman!" cried Gordon, jumping to his feet, "there's a mistake here
somewhere. These people cannot all have made my message read like
that. Some one has altered it, and now I have got to make these people
here live up to that message, whether they like being massacred and
blown up or not. Don't answer any of those messages except the one
from Dodge; tell him things have quieted down a bit, and that I'll
send four thousand words on the flight of the natives from the
village, and their encampment at the foot of the mountains, and of the
exploring party we have sent out to look for the German vessel; and
now I am going out to make something happen."
Gordon said that he would be gone for two hours at least, and as
Stedman did not feel capable of receiving any more nerve-stirring
messages, he cut off all connection with Octavia by saying, "Good-by
for two hours," and running away from the office. He sat down on a
rock on the beach, and mopped his face with his handkerchief.
"After a man has taken nothing more exciting than weather reports from
Octavia for a year," he soliloquized, "it's a bit disturbing to have
all the crowned heads of Europe and their secretaries calling upon you
for details of a massacre that never came off."
At the end of two hours Gordon returned from the consulate with a mass
of manuscript in his hand.
"Here's three thousand words," he said, desperately. "I never wrote
more and said less in my life. It will make them weep at the office. I
had to pretend that they knew all that had happened so far; they
apparently do know more than we do, and I have filled it full of
prophecies of more trouble ahead, and with interviews with myself and
the two ex-Kings. The only news element in it is, that the messengers
have returned to report that the German vessel is not in sight, and
that there is no news. They think she has gone for good. Suppose she
has, Stedman," he groaned, looking at him helplessly, "what _am_
I going to do?"
"Well, as for me," said Stedman, "I'm afraid to go near that cable.
It's like playing with a live wire. My nervous system won't stand many
more such shocks as those they gave us this afternoon."
Gordon threw himself down dejectedly in a chair in the office, and
Stedman approached his instrument gingerly, as though it might
explode.
"He's swearing again," he explained, sadly, in answer to Gordon's look
of inquiry. "He wants to know when I am going to stop running away
from the wire. He has a stack of messages to send, he says, but I
guess he'd better wait and take your copy first; don't you think so?"
"Yes, I do," said Gordon. "I don't want any more messages than I've
had. That's the best I can do," he said, as he threw his manuscript
down beside Stedman. "And they can keep on cabling until the wire
burns red hot, and they won't get any more."
There was silence in the office for some time, while Stedman looked
over Gordon's copy, and Gordon stared dejectedly out at the ocean.
"This is pretty poor stuff, Gordon," said Stedman. "It's like giving
people milk when they want brandy."
"Don't you suppose I know that?" growled Gordon. "It's the best I can
do, isn't it? It's not my fault that we are not all dead now. I can't
massacre foreign residents if there are no foreign residents, but I
can commit suicide, though, and I'll do it if something don't happen."
There was a long pause, in which the silence of the office was only
broken by the sound of the waves beating on the coral reefs outside.
Stedman raised his head wearily.
"He's swearing again," he said; "he says this stuff of yours is all
nonsense. He says stock in the Y.C.C. has gone up to one hundred and
two, and that owners are unloading and making their fortunes, and that
this sort of descriptive writing is not what the company want."
"What's he think I'm here for?" cried Gordon. "Does he think I pulled
down the German flag and risked my neck half a dozen times and had
myself made King just to boom his Yokohama cable stock? Confound him!
You might at least swear back. Tell him just what the situation is in
a few words. Here, stop that rigmarole to the paper, and explain to
your home office that we are awaiting developments, and that, in the
meanwhile, they must put up with the best we can send them. Wait; send
this to Octavia."
Gordon wrote rapidly, and read what he wrote as rapidly as it was
written.
"Operator, Octavia. You seem to have misunderstood my first message.
The facts in the case are these. A German man-of-war raised a flag on
this island. It was pulled down and the American flag raised in its
place and saluted by a brass cannon. The German man-of-war fired once
at the flag and knocked it down, and then steamed away and has not
been seen since. Two huts were upset, that is all the damage done; the
battery consisted of the one brass cannon before mentioned. No one,
either native or foreign, has been massacred. The English residents
are two sailors. The American residents are the young man who is
sending you this cable and myself. Our first message was quite true in
substance, but perhaps misleading in detail. I made it so because I
fully expected much more to happen immediately. Nothing has happened,
or seems likely to happen, and that is the exact situation up to date.
Albert Gordon."
"Now," he asked, after a pause, "what does he say to that?"
"He doesn't say anything," said Stedman.