Anticipating Rand’s report, and waxing eager with determination to
do justice and serve his own restricted inclinations, the president
duly appointed a successor, and began without delay the preparation
of a message asking congress to undo the bold, unquestioned work of
Harvenoiq, the nation’s trusted representative at Honolulu.
The American minister’s act, in contriving so serious a thing, as the
intervention of the marines, could be looked upon, from an exalted
viewpoint, in but one of two ways: as being patriotic or villainous.
The president chose the latter; a cold, deliberate consideration
of all the facts and circumstances as revealed in truth reasonably
permitted of none other, and the forthcoming report of an opponent’s
duly accredited and dispassionate commissioner more than justified the
conclusion.
Going upon the ground at a time when any sort of an excuse had been
agreeable politically, the far seeing Rand found it impossible
personally to pursue the veriest kind of partisan examination; the risk
of contamination augured too vile even for a diplomat’s consideration.
Every inducement seemed consistently winked at by those in authority;
lying resorted to by the ones most in danger; the stench excused by
everybody who would attune his advantage to the deed: Rand, however,
proved unpurchasable or controllable, and went about his work with a
deliberation and impartiality that brooked no speculation as to the
final outcome.
With hearing the blandishments of intriguers, who hastened to welcome,
then deigned revile; listening to the complaints of others wronged, yet
unwilling to concede the inevitable; and searching for a common ground
on which to do justice and open the eyes of the administration at
Washington,--amid circumstances almost disheartening,--the hard-pushed
and ill-adjudged commissioner soon found his task even more thankless
there--where, upon the whole, they had reason to trust and encourage a
truthful investigation--than the report should be unsatisfying at home,
in view of a changed and fomented political situation.
“We demand to know the purport of your recommendations,” ventured
Gutenborj,--with the old-time audacity that he was want to
employ,--heading a delegation of conservatives who threatened a final
appeal.
Rand bore the last straw with such dignity and patience as under the
circumstances a more politic man might be expected to muster. Neither
disinterestedness nor a lack of sympathy prevented him from concluding
his labors as begun: with honesty of purpose and faithfulness to the
trust imposed.
Answering adroitly, the surprised representative of a supposedly
indifferent people quietly said:
“It is not my province, good sir, to recommend: I am here only to
report the facts, in so far as obtainable. I should respectfully advise
that you address your request to Washington.”
“That is just what we propose to do, when the proper time comes;
but, first of all, we as representative citizens insist upon getting
you right. Do you understand me, Mr. Commissioner? If anything is
lacking--well, you know, we are prepared----”
“Pardon me, Mr. Gutenborj. I have been advised by your good selves as
well as others interested that the evidence is all in and the argument
concluded. I have, therefore, only to forward proper findings. Please
consider the matter closed.”
Rand understood only too well his auditors, and upon their piqued
withdrawal paid no more than respectful attention to the scathing
rebuke and scurrilous denunciation thereat promised. On the contrary,
having exhausted every recourse attainable, the result of a somewhat
prolonged investigation was undeniably reduced to writing, signed,
sealed and dispatched under cover of the strictest secrecy and most
favorable assurances. The commissioner had done all that he could do
fairly to advise his superiors, thence quietly awaited a reasonable
recall and proper discharge.
Yet, notwithstanding every precaution, no sooner had the document
reached its destination than were the coveted contents known in far off
Hawaii. As if by magic those least entitled had been forewarned; hence
Rand was duly maligned, and Harvenoiq proceeded as best he knew with
clearing the way for an unannounced but verily known successor.
Bender and he were closeted in the latter’s local residence: their
recent differences had been forgotten or brushed aside as if unknown
and unfelt.
“There is but one safe ground on which to stand,” whispered the
American, his face whitened, and withered frame shaking from head to
foot.
“Young must be gotten rid of,” answered the other, eager with
anticipation.
“Yes it is imperative.”
“And how?”
“Don’t tempt me, friend Bender; you know my weakness.”
“A prodigy, good Harvenoiq, to be taken opportunely. Shall I slip the
noose?”
“Pray do; I lack only the courage, if hung.”
“As an example? Don’t predict yourself a martyr; the lure of guilt
absolves only the doing, the deed the consequence. Act gingerly, old
man, and let your knees be worthy a good fellow’s confidence. You know
that I am proof, the evidence is yet in your possession.”
Harvenoiq had been fully convinced by Bender that little short of
total annihilation awaited him upon the arrival of Langdon, his duly
appointed successor, and the restoration of the queen, a consequence
easily predicted. Had he known better or stopped to consider the temper
of his own people and the possibilities of diplomatic dodging, all this
pother about hanging might well have been saved; but Harvenoiq, in the
tangle, had lost all control of self and come to regard with fear and
trembling Bender’s every suggestion.
On the other hand Young fretted more and harder under an ignominious
restraint. He knew full well that nothing short of the most damnable
perjury could in the end substantiate the charges laid, yet realized
that his apparent tormentors were capable of stooping to any depth to
carry their point.
That murder stared him in the face he was wholly unconscious; his duty
called him; there seemed no possible means by which he might induce a
speedy trial; when tried, though, as he felt in justice bound to be,
Norton must stand between danger and himself; she had not once failed
under stress, and he believed her sincerely and unalterably bent; the
forces that had cornered him must, before he lose, reckon with her, yet
Bender’s oily tongue entranced him.
It was not quite dead of night and the sentry on his dismal beat peered
into the dark, moody fog that overhung the stilled rounds of his
ominous watch.
“Who goes there?” cried he, his lone words barely rising above the
levelled rifle’s dull whack.
“A friend,” answered a familiar voice, approaching with fearless,
quickened step.
“All’s well,” replied the trusty, doubly relieved, while Bender strode
on and into darkness.
Presently Young’s accustomed ear discerned an expected approach, and
two huskies retired into a welcome corner, there to snooze and snore
till more urgent business roused them to a less tasteful duty.
“I thought you not coming; the hour is so late and the night gloomy,”
said Young, his heart thumping with renewed anticipation.
“Sh-h-h-don’t speak of gloom; it’s a gloomy business; everything is
gloom, and the end shall be still more gloomy if we don’t get at it
and out at once. Here is a knife: secrete it, and use it if you would
escape to-night, my boy. The devil is to pay, all round.”
Young gasped at the thought. He had early enough accustomed himself to
the use of manly weapons: this one sickened him. All his life he had
shunned the need of personal defence or public offense. What terrible
necessity had at last arisen, when all seemed so propitious?
Bender answered.
“I had it hard enough to get the documents----”
“Did you get them? Did you succeed----”
“Yes; I have them, here, securely, on my person; where, I take it, they
shall----”
“Give them to me,” demanded Young, gripping tightly the handle of the
dirk, which he still held openly, if undecided.
Bender looked his man hard in the face. He had not contemplated any
such turn, nor did he on the spur of the moment propose to yield.
“Oh, well,” said he calmly; “if you think it best, here they are: take
them. I have no doubt you shall find a way to save their falling again
into Harvenoiq’s----”
“Harvenoiq!” whispered Young, turning with bated breath to scan the
bolted doors round about him.
“Yes, Harvenoiq,” continued Bender, with subdued satisfaction;
“and--I shall have need to hurry away would even I escape him. He is
undoubtedly on the way now, and I thought possibly you might have
enough to do to save your life, as against him. I, as a friend,
unchallenged, should be better able to shield your honor--at least save
the papers from certain publicity.”
“What do you mean, man?” demanded his listener, almost choking with
rising consciousness.
“There is no time now for parleying, hence listen: Kaiuolani and
Harvenoiq were closeted at the legation house when I left to hasten
thither. You may judge the risk I ran in obtaining the papers--I trust
you do not forget, solely for your benefit--and understand my concern
for your safety, both in person and honor, when I tell you that it is
planned to kill you, here in this room, this very night, at twelve
o’clock. Now then, perhaps you can see that your reputation and my
safety depend upon my going: do with the papers as you like.”
“Thieves can trust no one, if not each other. Take them; and, if it
serves your own pitiful interests, protect my good name. If not, I
still owe you a debt of gratitude for the chance to live. Go.”
Bender hurried away. The very thought of holding in his own hand the
only evidence that could possibly stand between him and any success
lone ability might encourage quickened the unregenerate, ill-fashioned
trend he would pursue.
“At last, an unfettered man!” rose in mind to plunge him toward the
freedom craved.
“To the woods, the mountains, the undefiled! Only there--lies the spark
that feeds on reality. I’ll claim it, fan it into flame, send onward
the crackling, thundering holocaust that rids the earth and purifies
the doing. Bender shall survive: Kaiuolani but eke his exultation.”
No man deigned hinder his progress. Ihoas, bent and sore, listened not
reluctantly and saw with opened eyes. Together, they flew to the wilds;
there to foster pretended rights, and redress a fancied wrong.
Presently, however, Harvenoiq’s underhandedly appointed successor came
hauling into port. With trumpet a-blowing and promises galore this
half-starved political supplicant, from the interior, would neither
listen to the one nor substantiate another of the party factions that
wended alternately toward the fawning doors of contemplated recognition
or expected rehabilitation.
“I’ll do as duty bids me,” said he, over-proud and uncomfortably
explicit. “What care I for scant foibles and bothersome energy?
Americanhood is topmost, and our intentions are no less expedient than
privileged: when the flag comes down you’ll know the reason. Coates
R. Langdon, Esqr., may look seedy, but he’ll bear boosting. Hie you,
Gutenborj; make way for the queen!”
The Royal band played in the open that night, and native daughters
riding in oldtime uniforms galloped upon the streets. Sympathizers
(many of them new ones) gathered round the queen in plenty. The
Provisionalists slunk back or stood counselling one another, for
Langdon’s brusque deliberations nonplussed them. They had all, once
upon a time, known something of Yankee aptitude, but thenceforth try as
best they might nothing short of cold possibility stared them in the
face; Kaiuolani had captured Washington.