_CUPID AND THE LAW_
A COLLECTION _of_ SHORT STORIES
_By RAE SOARES_
HONOLULU:
THE HAWAIIAN GAZETTE CO., LTD.
1908
TO
PROFESSOR M. M. SCOTT
AND THE
CLASS _of_ 1908
COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY RAE SOARES
CONTENTS
PAGE
A Deal in Opium 7
A Modern Evangeline 21
Cupid and The Law 35
The New Magnetic Healer 47
In the Valley of Teeth 57
The Raid at Punchbowl 67
A Change of Opinion 77
A Fatal Excursion 95
A DEAL IN OPIUM
A DEAL IN OPIUM
Of course, the people which participated in things of this sort are
dead now, and so is nearly every one which ever knew anything about
the matter, but occasionally you will run across an old Hawaiian whose
memory you can always refresh by showing him a bit of silver, and then
you will hear tales of the days when smuggling opium into Honolulu was
a common practise.
There are some who will tell you that the blocks on the sidewalk on
the right hand side of Alakea street were taken from the holds of
smugglers. Nothing so very astonishing, only, in the middle of these
blocks the initiated found a can of opium. Parties would contract for a
load of Chinese stone and the unsuspecting Customs man would pass the
ship which brought it. But when the stones were safely carried away,
this same Customs man would have been astonished, could he have seen a
man remove a layer from a block and take out from the cavity a can.
He would have been further astounded could he have seen what the can
contained.
Ah Pung had contracted for such a load of stone and was anxiously
awaiting the arrival of the ship bearing it.
Smuggling opium was getting to be a risky proposition and in view of
the alarming number of captures which the government had made and
the large amount of fines which it had collected from those whom it
captured, Ah Pung made a mental resolve, as he walked down to the Pilot
House to ask if the _Fanny_ had been sighted, that with the sale of
this load, his part in this illegal business terminated.
The _Fanny_ was making an unusually slow passage, and many were the
conjectures placed upon her delay.
“Bet you she’s got a load of opium this trip,” said one old sea dog to
a group of his companions.
“Your bet is safe,” was the reply from the youngest of the number,
“she had a load of it last trip. My opinion on her delay is this: Her
captain’s got the wind that somethin’ is blowing wrong and he’s not
going to risk his cargo and his ship by coming in, unless the coast is
clear.
“Old Captain Mitchell is too crafty a sea dog to be caught napping.
He’s been engaged in this smuggling business for over twenty years.
Used to smuggle wines from Portugal into Boston Harbor at one time, and
then, when he found the job getting pretty hot, he took his ship when
no body was looking, and went into smuggling opium. I was first mate
under him two trips ago, and I know.
“I’ll bet you,” he said suddenly to the first speaker, “I’ll bet you
that this old Chink has got the cargo on board the _Fanny_ this time.”
The group fixed its eyes on Ah Pung who was nervously watching a
customs officer who, from time to time, was scanning the horizon with
his glass.
Hearing what the mate said, Ah Pung turned to them and said, “Yes, me
got calgo on boad the _Flanny_. Too muchee building stone this trip.
Got big contlact make floo’ for lice thleshing, up Waiau.”
A number of the sailors nodded as if they accepted the Chinaman’s
story, but the mate smiled. “That’s all right, John; don’t need to
worry about us, you pig-tailed heathen. I know very well what’s inside
them stones, but if you can land them without that chap nabbing you,
you’ll have my sincerest admiration. I tell you,” he said lowering
his voice, “you’d better get some kind of a signal out to the _Fanny_
telling her not to land those stones at the wharf.”
The Chinaman looked the mate over carefully and then, as if satisfied
with his examination, he said, “My lice schooner captain he sick. You
number one sailor; you take my boat to Waiau now.”
Roberts understood the ruse and got up smilingly from his box and went
over to Ah Pung’s rice schooner. The sails were hoisted and the little
schooner bounded out of the harbor. Instead of turning to his right,
to where Waiau lay, Roberts steered the schooner in the direction of
Diamond Head.
In response to the Chinaman’s inquiring look Roberts said, “That
government schooner is out somewhere. We’ll have to find out where
before we can do anything.”
The schooner was skimming along at a good clip when Ah Pung’s excited
eyes saw another schooner bearing down upon them.
“No,” Roberts said after looking the new comer over, “that’s not the
_Fanny_; that’s the customs’ schooner. Well, we’ll make for Waiau.”
Carefully swinging her around, he started back to town but was hailed
with the cry, “Ship ahoy!”
“The _Moi Wahine_,” was the reply.
“Haul hard until we come up to you,” was the order.
Roberts had the one sailor on board haul down the sails and awaited the
coming of the customs boat.
“What are you doing?” he was asked.
“Merely trying this boat.”
“What for?”
“Want to buy her.”
“What made you turn around when you saw us?”
“Didn’t see you until after I had started to come back.”
The officer seemed appeased and he ordered his own sail up. Roberts
followed suit and turning to the captain he said, “I’ll race you back
to the harbor for a drink all around.”
“That’s to find out who has the faster boat,” he muttered to himself.
“All right, let her go,” he shouted and both boats fairly flew, cutting
the water with clean, sharp strokes as they sped along.
Roberts put on all the sail he had; the customs man did the same and
gained rapidly.
“Whew,” muttered Roberts, “not much of a chance for us, Ah Pung, if
we were in a pinch now. But wait a moment, I’ll fix him.” He veered
slightly to the left and took advantage of a sudden puff of wind. That
was all the _Moi Wahine_ needed; her masts fairly groaned under the
spread of canvas and soon the customs man was out of sight.
“I understand her now,” Roberts said, “I’ll guarantee to beat anything
in these waters. But let’s go to Waiau. I want to see what kind of a
harbor they have there.”
“Nothing decent,” was his verdict. “Catch us here easy. I have it,” he
said finally, “there’s Ford’s Island off there,” jerking his thumb in
the direction of the island, “that’ll help us alright. Now let’s go
back to the harbor and get those drinks the captain owes us.”
The captain was found pouring a drink from a demijohn in his office.
“It’s on me,” he called as Roberts passed by. He entered and took the
mug which the captain filled for him.
“By the way,” he asked, “what were you doing out by Diamond Head this
afternoon?”
“Looking for the _Fanny_. I can’t imagine what’s become of the boat.”
“What’s so wonderful on the _Fanny_ that makes you so anxious to meet
her?”
“Opium.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Do? Nothing now. Wait until she gets into the harbor and then nab the
man that her cargo is assigned to.”
“But supposing he manages to land the cargo before the boat reaches the
harbor, then what?”
“Take a mighty smart man to skin me, old fellow. Fill up your mug, I
see it’s empty.”
“Here’s to the _Fanny_; may she make port safely.”
The captain looked at Roberts in mild surprise but he drank the toast
and added, “May she make port safely and give her cargo up to the
government.”
Roberts left the room and found Ah Pung waiting for him.
“You come my house eat,” he said.
The invitation was accepted and Roberts was soon at Ah Pung’s home. It
was a pretentious dwelling, for Ah Pung had money. He had married a
Hawaiian woman who possessed a large quantity of land. A part of this
her husband had sold to enable him to buy opium, and after the second
trip, he was counted a rich man.
Ah Pung had a daughter. Though dark-skinned, Kealoha was fair to
behold. She had inherited her mother’s Hawaiian beauty, and her only
Chinese characteristic shown from her eyes.
Sam Roberts was a roving sort of a fellow. Many were the girls who
would have gladly married him “back East,” but he would have none of
them. Tonight, as he sat on the floor, which formed Ah Pung’s dining
table, by the side of pretty Kealoha, he thought he had never seen any
Hawaiian or any other maiden look so lovely.
Around her head she had a _lei_ of red carnations, and another of
_ilima_ hung around her neck. Lost in the contemplation of so lovely
a vision, Roberts failed to do justice to the excellent meal which Ah
Pung had provided.
When dinner was over, Ah Pung led his guest out to the lanai and
together they planned their campaign.
“You help me, I help you,” said Ah Pung.
“Yes, I help you, but what do I get out of this business?”
Ah Pung had noticed the effect which Kealoha had produced upon Roberts
and with a crafty smile he answered, “You help me, make me win, I give
you Kealoha.”
“But suppose she won’t have me?”
“Kealoha have anybody I tell her have,” was the Chinaman’s response.
“The stake is well worth the risk,” Roberts muttered. “I make the old
Chink win.”
Kealoha came out with her guitar and in the short twilight, she sang
several plaintive Hawaiian melodies. Then she suddenly arose and went
into the house.
Roberts got up from his chair and said, “Let’s go out to Diamond Head.
I have an idea that the _Fanny_ is somewhere around there.”
They went to the wharf and rousing the sailor aboard the _Moi Wahine_,
the sails were raised and in the calm moonlight they sped away to
Diamond Head. When they were in full sight of the light house, Roberts
saw a green light flash out over the water from a large black mass
which was blacker than the darkness around it. The green light was
followed by two red ones, and then by a white one. Roberts returned the
signal and sailed for the spot.
“Ship ahoy!” he called softly.
“The _Fanny_” was the response. “Who are you?”
“The _Moi Wahine_. Don’t attempt to land at Honolulu. Customs’ men are
on to you. They were looking for you yesterday.”
The _Fanny’s_ captain laughed. “What would you advise, Roberts?”
“Go to Pearl Harbor instead. Nobody has seen you. The old fellow up
there is asleep and we can get up to Pearl Harbor with this wind before
daybreak. Once there, you can remain in hiding ’til night. Then I’ll
come and transfer your cargo into the _Moi Wahine_.”
Capt. Mitchell favored the plan and with the _Moi Wahine_ in the
lead, the two schooners sailed to Pearl Harbor, where the _Fanny_ was
anchored. The _Moi Wahine_ was sailed back to town and moored at her
usual place.
“Nobody will be the wiser, old chap,” he said to Ah Pung. “We’ll stay
at home today and tonight the opium will be brought back. Let the
stones stay in the hold until the next night, then we’ll bring them to
your house, a few at a time. Then, Ah Pung, I’ll claim my reward.”
Ah Pung nodded and invited Sam in to spend the day at his house.
After breakfast he followed Kealoha into the yard, and watched her make
a _lei_.
They were silent for a while when Kealoha asked, “You’ll help my father
land his opium?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“How much money will you get for the job?”
“No money at all; my dear, I get _you_.”
“You get me?”
“Yes, your father has promised to let me marry you if I succeed in
landing the opium so that the customs men won’t know.”
“Can you do it?”
“Dead easy.”
“But if I don’t want to marry you?”
“But you will,” he said smilingly.
“But I won’t,” she returned firmly. “Do you think I sell myself or let
my father sell me for a load of opium. No, sir! What’s more, I am to
marry Kea.”
“Don’t you love your father?”
“Yes, very much.”
“Then do you want to see him go to jail?”
“No.”
“Well, if I say the word, I’ll get him into jail.”
Kealoha burst into tears. “You white men are so cruel,” she sobbed out
in Hawaiian. “Not content with defrauding us out of our lands, you
wish to keep us from marrying one another.”
Roberts bit his lips. He disliked to see woman in tears. He took her
hands in his and said gently, “Kealoha, listen to me.”
She raised her head and with brimming eyes looked him full in the face.
“Kealoha,” he said, “couldn’t you learn to love me?”
She shook her head.
“Do you love Kea?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Then, Kealoha, I am not the man to cross the love path of another
man.” He was silent for a moment then he continued: “I love you as I
have never loved before. You say you love your father. For your sake,
dear heart, I’ll not betray him. Go, tell your father that I have given
my permission for you to marry Kea tonight. Go.”
Kealoha threw her head upon his shoulder and sobbed out her thanks.
Then raising her pretty face to his, she pressed a kiss on his lips and
left him to himself.
A MODERN EVANGELINE
A MODERN EVANGELINE
The sun was sinking behind the purple hills in a little village in
Madeira as a tall, swarthy Portuguese hurried to his little home.
“Ah, Manuel,” he cried as an older man came out of a little side
street, “have you heard the latest bit of news?”
“_Não_, Gabriel, what is it?”
“A man from the Sandwich Islands has come here, offering to give us
free passage to Honolulu provided we work for three years on the sugar
plantations. He promises us twenty-two dollars a month together with a
house and free water. I, for one, intend to go. Twenty-two dollars a
month! Why, fourteen is all I can make here, working from early morning
’til late at night. What say you; will you be one of the company?”
“That I will. I have a brother there and my wife has a sister. We shall
tell the man that we will go to his plantations, and then when we get
to the capital, I march up to my brother’s, while the rest of you can
go and till the soil. I am a carpenter, and none of that dirty work for
me. A free trip! ha, ha, ha; I’ll beat the American at his own game.”
“I do not consider that fair,” was Gabriel’s response. “The American
expects us to keep our word. Furthermore, he is offering a reduced
passage rate to those who want to pay their way.”
“That won’t do for me. Why, even at the smallest possible rate, it
would be an utter impossibility for me to take one child, let alone
fourteen!”
Gabriel laughed. “Well, I am going to those islands, but it is to work
on a plantation. Three years is but a short while, when you stop to
consider it, and by the end of that time, I will have saved enough to
get married on.”
“Do as you want to, boy, but I tell you frankly that you are a fool.
You are an excellent mason; why throw away the gift which the blessed
virgin gave you, to kill yourself on an old plantation for the sake
of sentiment. It is expected that there will be some that will take
advantage of this free trip idea, and you may as well be one of those
as not. But we’ll not quarrel over the matter.”
They walked on in silence for some moments until they came to a neatly
white-washed cottage. There were vines over the front and in the little
garden in the back, neat garlic patches shared the space with cabbages.
“Will you come in?” Manuel asked.
“No, I have much to do yet tonight. The ship leaves in two or three
days and I must leave my affairs in something like decency. _Boa
noite._”
“_Boa noite_, Gabriel, come over tomorrow and let us make our plans.”
“All right,” and Gabriel continued on his way, while Manuel turned into
the cottage. He was met at the door by his daughter, Maria da Cruzs.
He had eight daughters and all eight were named Maria--of something or
other. Of course they all had middle names and occasionally they were
called by their middle names to avoid confusion.
“Who was that you were just speaking to,” she asked him.
“What! Did you fail to recognize the voice? It was that of your own
Gabriel.”
Maria da Cruzs blushed violently as she said, “He is not my Gabriel.”
Her father laughed at his daughter’s discomfiture and added teasingly,
“He leaves for the Sandwich Islands very soon.”
“For the Sandwich Islands? Why, they are so many, many miles away. Has
he enough money to pay his passage?”
“No; an American has arrived offering us free passage to Honolulu,
provided we promise to work on the sugar plantations for three years.”
“Oh, father! Let us go.”
“I thought it was but yesterday that you said nothing could induce you
to leave Madeira.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, “but--”
“But you didn’t know then that Gabriel was going away,” her father
supplied. “Well, I have almost decided to go myself, but not to work on
an old plantation, mind you. I am a carpenter, and none of your dirty
work on a field for me.”
While they talked, Gabriel appeared in the doorway.
“I came back to tell you,” he said, after he had greeted Maria, “that
if you decide to go, you must send in your names tomorrow. The man has
been here for some time but in this out of the way place, news travels
slowly, so that I but heard it yesterday when I went to Senhor Marques’
house to repair his wall, which fell in the last wind storm.”
“Yes, I believe I shall send in my name tomorrow,” said Manuel slowly,
rising from his comfortable position on the floor and going out to the
kitchen where his wife was preparing the dinner for her hungry family,
leaving Gabriel and Maria da Cruzs together.
“Ah, Maria,” he said, “to think that we shall soon be able to get
married. In that blessed paradise, I can surely make enough money to
support both of us. Then, too, our house will be free of rent; and that
is quite a saving.”
Maria was silent, but Gabriel could read in her silence that she, too,
was pleased with the prospect which he was painting.
“Had we better get married before the boat sails, or shall we wait
until we get to Honolulu?” he asked.
“Oh, let us wait until we get to the Islands, and then we can tell
better what lies before us.”
“Let it be as you say,” Gabriel responded, inwardly well pleased that
Maria was as enthusiastic about the islands as he was.
“I must go now,” he said finally, “but I shall see you again in the
morning. _Boa noite minha querida_,” and he disappeared into the
darkness.
II.
The next morning, Manuel rose earlier than his usual early hour, and
waited for Gabriel.
“Ah, my boy,” he said walking toward the road as Gabriel finally made
an appearance, “if you are as slow as that on the plantation, your boss
will hurry you up with his big black whip.”
“The bosses do not use whips any more,” Gabriel responded.
“They do not? How do you know?”
“The American said so.”
“The American lies. I have a brother there who went over with the first
lot of Portuguese, which left on the _Priscilla_ nearly twenty-five
years ago, to Honolulu. The tales which he used to tell me, when he
came back, of how the bosses, lunas, they call them there, used to
treat them, would simply scare you. No, sir, no plantations for me,
sir; and if you knew what I know, you would say the same thing.”
“Yes, I know what you know; how the lunas used to take up the hoes
which the men were using, and bang them on the head with the handles
just because they felt like it. I know, too, that they used to tie the
men up to the fence and whip them with their snake whips just because
the men were a trifle slow, and I know, too, that things have changed
within the last years. With the coming of Annexation, the plantation
laborer does not suffer what he used to, so to the plantations for me.”
“Well, I am sure you have my permission, but let us hurry; the sun is
getting quite high and we have a number of miles to go yet.”
They quickened their pace and were soon in town where they found a
crowd of men and women gathered around a large building.
“That is where the American has his office,” said Gabriel, “he is now
receiving the names of those who want to go. Come, let us enter.”
They walked in together and awaited their turn to book.
“Your name,” asked the clerk finally of Manuel.
“Manuel Gomes da Silva.”
“How many children have you?”
“_Quartorze._”
“How many is that?” asked the “Americano.”
“Fourteen.”
“Fourteen! Good! That means fourteen families some day to make
their homes in Hawaii. Fourteen different families to work on the
plantations. Good!”
Manuel did not understand what the American was saying, but he made a
very good guess and smiled knowingly at Gabriel as he walked up to the
registrar.
“Married or single?” he was asked.
“Single. I intend to marry Manuel’s eldest daughter as soon as we get
in Honolulu.”
His remark was translated to the American, who rubbed his hands
gleefully. “Better and better,” he said. “There goes a man who will
make Hawaii his permanent home. In years to come he will be able
to vote and for all we know, some of his children may serve in our
legislature.”
The interpreter laughed. The idea of a son of a plantation hand being a
Senator or even a Representative appeared ludicrous to him, and he said
so.
“It has been done before,” he was told, “so why can’t it be done again.”
“Done before?” asked the interpreter, “do you mean to tell me that any
of your public men have had parents who worked on the plantations?”
“Sure,” was the response.
The interpreter shook his head. “It is unheard of here.”
“Here, yes; but in America and in Hawaii, no. Our school system
accounts for that--but here comes another man.”
All day the men booked, and when night came, word was given to get
ready immediately as the boat sailed in three days.
Manuel and Gabriel stayed in town that night and were taken to the
wharf to see the _Suveric_, the boat which was to take them to the
Paradise of the Pacific.
The remaining days were ones of excitement and bustle. For the two
friends, however, there was not much to do. No furniture was brought as
they could get furniture cheaply in Honolulu.
“I am going to look at the old house once more before I go,” said
Gabriel on the day the ship was to leave.
“Better not,” advised Manuel; “you might miss the boat.”
“There is no danger of that. The boat sails at five this evening and it
is now three in the morning. All of my things are on board, so I shall
have nothing to do when I come back.”
“Oh, don’t go,” said Maria; “the ship might go earlier than they say,
and what would I do without you!”
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I want to put some fresh flowers on my
parents’ graves, before I leave this island, never to return.”
She respected his sentiment and let him go without a murmur, but not
without misgivings on both her and her father’s part.
“If he misses this boat, it will be a terrible thing for him. All his
clothes are aboard and I have his money in my note,” Manuel said.
“Oh, he will have time to go and return,” spoke up João Mello, who was
Gabriel’s friend. “Gabriel is a fast walker and could go much further
than that in the same time.”
“It isn’t that,” returned Maria, “suppose the boat should leave earlier
than we were told it would?”
“I hadn’t thought of that. If I had,” he added thoughtfully, “I
wouldn’t have let him go. But let us hope for the best,” he added
cheerfully, seeing that Maria was about to cry.
III.
“Captain,” said the first mate of the _Suveric_ to his superior officer
a few hours later, “the tide is going out. Hadn’t we better take
advantage of it, and leave this morning instead of tonight?”
“What do you say?” asked the captain of the Americano.
“Well, the people are all here, so I don’t see any objection to sailing
now, if you want to. I’ll pass along the word. Here, Francisco, tell
these people to get on board. We leave pretty soon.”
“Pretty soon?” cried Maria as she heard the order, “why, Gabriel will
not be here until night. Oh, why did I let him go!” And the unhappy
girl indulged her grief in shrieks of the most heart-rending nature.
“Oh, never mind,” said the _Americano_, when he heard the reason for
her shrieks. “He can come later. She will have learned some English
words by that time, and will have an advantage over him in that she
will be able to teach him what she knows.”
But Maria was inconsolable. “I want my Gabriel,” she moaned; “_Ou meu
Gabriel_.”
But crying and wishing for him did not bring Gabriel to her, and the
long, hard voyage to Honolulu was endured without him.
True to the plans which he had made in Madeira, Manuel did not go on a
plantation, but remained in the city, where he soon obtained employment
at a much better wage than he had been accustomed.
Maria was fairly good looking, and the young men of Honolulu were not
slow in finding that fact out, and many a suitor she had had before she
was in town many months. But she met them all with the same answer, “I
am waiting for Gabriel.”
One day, news arrived that the _Kumeric_, with another load of
Portuguese, was coming, and Maria was overjoyed.
“My Gabriel will surely come,” she told her father.
“Your Gabriel?” he replied, “why, when you were in Madeira, you said
that he was _not_ your Gabriel.”
“That was in Madeira,” she said.
While they talked on the subject one morning, three loud blasts from a
whistle interrupted their conversation, and soon they heard that the
_Kumeric_ had been sighted.
“Oh, let us hurry to the wharf,” Maria said.
“No hurry at all. It will take her two hours to come in, so we will
have plenty of time.”
But Maria was impatient and finally persuaded her father to “go
immediately.”
The wait was long, but finally the vessel was tied to the wharf. No
one was allowed aboard her, and no one was allowed to leave her, so
those on the wharf had to content themselves with picking out from the
mass of humanity huddled along the side of the ship, faces which they
recognized.
Maria peered anxiously at the people on board, but she saw no Gabriel.
Disappointed, she was almost ready to give up and go home, when her
attention was attracted by a tall man violently waving his cap at her.
It was Gabriel, and with a cry of delight, she rushed up closer to the
side of the ship.
“_Maria minha_,” Gabriel shouted.
“Good morning my dear,” she replied in English.
CUPID AND THE LAW
CUPID AND THE LAW
There has been great rejoicing in the little village of Hingyan, when
Ito and Hatsu were married. Ito had money, and he spent it lavishly on
his feast. No one could honestly say that the host had been niggardly
with his sweetmeats or that there had not been enough sake to go
around. On the contrary, the villagers declared that never before had
they attended such a sumptuous feast.
Ito was a rice planter. He owned the largest rice plantation in the
village and had the largest stock of buffaloes in the entire district.
But one day he did not come to his noonday meal, and when he arrived at
evening he seemed very much depressed in spirit.
“What is troubling my beloved one?” asked his wife, who had never,
since she had been married, sat down to such a solemn meal. Usually Ito
was jovial and meal time was an event to which Hatsu looked forward
with eagerness.
Ito tried to look pleasant as his wife spoke, but failed, as he
replied, “I fear that we are to have a terrible drought this season.
It has not rained even in the mountains, and the water supply is very,
very low.”
“I will go to the temple tomorrow and offer up a sacrifice to the Rain
God. Perhaps he will hear my prayers and send us an abundance of rain.”
“I fear that he will not,” replied her husband; “I have been daily to
the temple this week, and as yet there are no signs of rain.”
“Without rain the crops will fail?”
“Most assuredly. The rice is now in the stage where it requires a large
supply of water. Unless we have rains this week or next week at the
latest, we shall have no rice until next year;” and Ito sadly shook his
head.
“Shall you lose so very much money if the crops fail?”
“Yes. I have been buying up all the available lands owing to the fact
that I needed more to cultivate rice to supply the Maji contract.
Unless it rain, I shall become a poor man, as there is a heavy bond
connected with this contract.”
“A heavy bond?”
“Yes. If at the end of the season I fail to produce the required number
of bags, I shall be obliged to forfeit more than two thousand yen.
Besides, I mortgaged my lands when we got married. Things look very
dark for us. I am afraid we shall be poor; very poor indeed.”
“I care not for the luxuries of life. The necessities with my husband,
are enough for me.”
Ito kissed his wife fondly and was silent.
True to her promise, Hatsu went to the temple and offered a bowl of
rice to the Rain God. Muttering a little prayer for rain, she left the
temple. “It will surely rain this week,” she said; “the rice was of the
best.”
But it did not rain that week, neither did it in the next. And the rice
crops became a failure, and, true to his prophecy, Ito became a poor
man. The change of fortune left him a small house and lot which had
been formerly used by his head planter. Ito barely eked out a living by
raising soy beans.
Finally, Ito called his wife and said, “We cannot live in this
miserable condition any longer. I have decided to go to America and see
what I can do. They tell me that America is a land wherein the poor man
may become rich. Raising the soy bean is not hard. I will leave you
here to tend to it. In three years or, maybe, two, I shall send for
you, and together we shall live in what will resemble former days. If I
fail, I shall return.”
In vain did Hatsu protest that she was just as happy now in the days of
want as she had been in the days of plenty. Ito had decided to go to
America, and he went.
It was a sad leave-taking, but Ito cheered his wife saying, “It is only
for a few years. I shall soon be able to send money for you to come to
me.”
Arriving in San Francisco, Ito found work on a railroad, digging
a tunnel which the company had ordered made. He lived in a large
apartment house which the company furnished its working men--all
Japanese, who, like himself, had come to the promised land to make
their fortunes.
* * * * *
Accustomed to low wages in their own country, they live accordingly.
Coming to America, with its higher wages, they keep their old methods
of living and save money. It was not surprising, then, that at the end
of two years Ito had nearly a thousand dollars in the bank. By careful
investments at the end of the third he was the owner of a sum which
would accredit him a rich man should he go back to Japan. Should he go
back to Japan, or should he remain in America and have his wife come
to him? Letters had been but few between them, as Hatsu could neither
read nor write. When he “turned in” at night, the last question which
flashed through his brain was, “Shall I go back to Japan?” and the
first question which greeted him on his awakening was, “Shall I send
for my wife?”
When he had decided finally to do the former, go back to Japan, his
foreman came to him and said: “Ito, my boss section man sick; go back
to Japan. I give you the job; raise you five dollars.”
After hearing this he resolved to stay, and wrote a letter to his wife
that night, telling her to come to him. He would mail her a bank note
in the morning. Then they would be together, and the old times and
scenes would be reacted.
Bright and early did he rise the next morning, for he had important
work to do. As he walked to the bank where he had his savings, a
countrywoman of his passed, and, bowing, asked to be directed to a
certain street. Ito directed her. Long did he gaze after her, and not
until a policeman had told him to “move on” did he leave the spot.
“What a beautiful woman,” he muttered. By the way which the young woman
arranged her hair Ito knew that she was unmarried. A wild thought
flashed through his brain; why not try to get this young woman for his
wife? He had forgotten the faithful and patient Hatsu, forgotten the
little baby which he had never seen, forgotten everything connected
with his past life, save that he had fallen in love with this beauty.
So the money remained in the bank, and the letter was destroyed.
By degrees Ito became acquainted with the beauty. Soon, from a mere
acquaintance, a warm friendship sprang up between the two, and finally
this friendship ripened into love, and one day Ito announced to his
comrades that he was to be married. They congratulated him warmly when
they saw his wife, and Ito thought himself a fortunate man.
* * * * *
“It is strange, my pet,” said Hatsu one morning, “it is strange that
your father has not written to us. It has been nearly two years since
we last heard from him. He said that three years at the most would
be enough to earn money to send for us. And now it is nearly five. I
wonder if--no, I will not think such a thing of the most noble Ito.”
But she did think, and the more she thought the more she became
convinced.
At last she could bear the suspense no longer; she would go to America
and seek her husband. So, selling the little house to enable her to
get passage money, all she brought from the old home was Ito’s few but
precious letters.
Eventually she, too, arrived at San Francisco, but was refused
admission.
“But my husband is here,” she told the interpreter.
“If that is the case,” the official replied, “you may come in, but
first you will have to have your husband come to the station to prove
that you are his wife.”
By some mere chance Ito was passing the Immigration Station. “There he
is now,” cried Hatsu, and she rushed forward to greet her husband.
Ito was called inside and was asked, “Who is this woman?”
Ito looked and saw Hatsu trembling with suppressed emotion. Surely, oh
surely, he would say the word that would cease all troubles and end all
separation.
For an instant Ito paled. Like a flash there came before him the view
of a woman toiling patiently among the soy vines, waiting daily for a
letter telling her to come to America.
He had been in the States long enough to know that Uncle Sam laid a
heavy hand on people who had offended in the way that he had, so he
answered, “I do not know her.”
With a cry of anguish, Hatsu sprang forward. “Ito,” she cried. But Ito
was deaf.
“Are you sure that you do not know this woman?” asked one of the
officials. He had seen many shams, but this looked to him to be the
real thing.
“My wife live with me on Fillmore street,” was the answer.
“Yes,” said a bystander, “I sabe her. Her number one pretty woman. Ito
too much lucky.”
Ito left the room, but the officials were far from satisfied.
“I believe that he is this woman’s husband,” said one of the
commissioners who was present.
“So do I,” was the interpreter’s response.
“Tell her that I am taking a special interest in her case. Ask her if
she can prove that he is her husband.”
Taking from her finger a small circlet of gold, she said: “This ring
was his great grandmother’s. There is none like it anywhere. When he
sees it, watch his face. That in itself will be sufficient proof.”
The interpreter took the ring, and the next morning Ito received a
warrant, ordering his appearance in court immediately.
The prosecuting attorney handed him a ring, saying: “Have you ever seen
anything like this before?”
Ito took the ring and sank sobbing into a chair.
“I gave it to Hatsu the day we were married in Japan,” he confessed. He
was sentenced on his own evidence and was led away to jail.
Poor Hatsu was broken-hearted. She dearly loved Ito, and to think that
he had played her false was more than she could believe.
“Take me back to Dai Nippon,” she said; “take me back. I go to die in
the land of my fathers.”
THE NEW MAGNETIC HEALER
THE NEW MAGNETIC HEALER
The town had been literally flooded that year with quacks and fakers in
the shape of men who either claimed to be able to cure disease in any
form, or professed to have some scheme by which men and women could get
rich in two weeks. It always happened, however, that all those who fell
victims to the wiles of the last-named gentlemen, were poorer, when the
time expired, by a few, and sometimes a good many, dollars.
Bollinger, however, eclipsed them all, both in his remunerations and in
his methods. He came towards the close of the year, and when he went
away, he had enraged the people so, that they shut the city’s gates to
all magnetic healers who tried in the future to locate in that town.
Almost all of his class wore long, flowing gowns and beards; but not so
with Bollinger. He wore a suit of the latest style and cut, and was
clean-shaven. Before he had been in the town three days all the girls
had fallen in love with him. But Bollinger was an extremely modest
young man who had no intention of falling in love with any of the
enamored young ladies--at least not during the first week.
Miss Camilla Knight was away when Bollinger arrived in the town, and
did not return until he had been there nearly a week. It was when
she returned that Bollinger discovered that being single had its
disadvantages. He made enquiries, and found out that Camilla lived
alone with her father, who, besides being a widower, was a rough and
austere man; one who would brook no insult, intentional or otherwise,
and woe betide the man who dared to insult Papa Knight by asking him
for his daughter. There were many young men in the town who could show
you the exact spot that they landed upon after having been kicked
off the veranda of the Knight home, simply because they had had the
audacity to ask for Camilla’s hand, and, incidentally, the rest of her.
Camilla had come home ill, and the doctors had given up hope of saving
her life. When Bollinger heard this he hung up a sign which read,
“Doctor John Bollinger, Magnetic Healer.” The town smiled. So this
young man who had been the cause of so much speculation as to what
his business was, had proven to be a mere magnetic healer. With one
accord they resolved not to patronize him. Camilla’s father saw “Dr.”
Bollinger’s advertisement in one of the town papers, and also an
editorial in another, urging the people not to go to him. He showed the
paper to Camilla, who urged her father to try him.
“He can’t do any harm, and he may do some good,” soliloquized Papa
Knight; “and I’ll be hanged if I’ll not do anything because an old
editor tells me not to.” So he sent for Bollinger.
Mr. Knight was a little old-fashioned, and his ideas of magnetic
healers were somewhat behind the time. It was no wonder, therefore,
that he was surprised when an up-to-date young man handed him a card
which read, “John Bollinger, Magnetic Healer.”
“Be you the doctor?” he asked, in surprise.
“I be,” the other replied, with assumed gravity.
“Humph! You don’t look like you had enough magnetic power to cure a
fly.”
“Nevertheless I have enough to heal your daughter.”
“How did you know that it was my daughter who was ill?” the astonished
father asked. “You have only just arrived, haven’t you?”
“I found out it was your daughter who was ill, by my magnetic power,”
Bollinger answered, evading the last question.
“If that don’t beat all!” ejaculated the old man.
“Allow me to see your daughter,” asked the healer.
The old man led the way to Camilla’s room and said to his daughter,
“Here’s that young healer you were so anxious to have come and see
you.” He asked her a few simple questions as to where she felt the
pain, and the like, and was told that the pain was in her heart. Taking
a small pad from his pocket he turned to the old man and said, “Do you
read?”
“Printing, but not writing,” was the answer.
“Does your daughter read?”
“Of course she does; do you think you are the only one who has had
an edication? Why don’t you make use of your magnetic power and quit
asking so many questions?”
Bollinger did not answer _his_ question, but continued to write on the
pad. Tearing off the sheet, he handed it to Camilla and said, “Read
this to yourself twenty times an hour. But remember! yourself. If you
read it aloud, the spell will be broken and I shall be unable to do
anything for you. I will come tomorrow and see if you are any better.
Good morning.” And he picked up his hat and left the room. Papa Knight
followed him to the front door and said, “How much do I owe you for
today’s work?”
“I prefer to collect my fee all at once,” the doctor replied.
“How much will that be?”
“It is impossible for me to tell at present. If the cure fails, I do
not want a cent; if it works--but we will talk of the pay later.”
“Queer fellow that,” said the old man to himself as the healer left the
house. “He’s different from all the other magnetic healers I’ve heard
of before. Most of them want their money before they begin to work, but
this one wants to cure before he gets his pay.”
Meanwhile Camilla was reading her cure not twenty times an hour, but
sixty: “Dear Camilla, I love you. Won’t you be mine? Answer me when I
come tomorrow,” she read, and she did not wait to say “Yes” the first
time to Bollinger himself, but said “Yes” every time she read it.
Dr. Bollinger went to visit his patient very early the next morning
to see how the “cure” had worked. Papa Knight met him at the door,
his face all aglow with smiles. “By George!” he said, “but you are a
wonder. Why! Camilla is as pert as a cricket this morning. She wanted
to get up and dress, but I wouldn’t let her. I was afraid it might harm
her.”
“Why didn’t you? It would not have done her any harm.”
“I’ll tell her now, if you want me to.”
“Never mind. I am anxious to complete the cure. It is just begun. Let
us go to Cam--to Miss Knight.”
They went to the room and the first question Bollinger asked was, “If
anyone was to ask you if the cure was a success, what would you say?”
“I would say, ‘Yes’,” she replied.
“And do you say ‘Yes’ to the question the cure asked?”
“Yes,” was the response.
Bollinger must have forgotten where he was, and who was present with
him, for he lifted Camilla from her bed, and kissed her again and again.
“See here, young man,” said Papa Knight when he had recovered from his
astonishment. “What in thunder do you mean?”
“This is a part of the cure,” Bollinger answered, “and you must not
interrupt.”
“Take those kinds of cures somewhere else, you rascal; I don’t want any
of them.”
“Neither do I want to give any of them to you,” Bollinger answered.
“Git out of my house!” roared the old man. “Git!”
“Before I go, allow me to tell you something which will no doubt
surprise you. I love your daughter; she, in turn, loves me. Have we
your permission to get married?”
Force of habit is strong, and, for answer, Papa Knight opened the door
leading to the veranda, and prepared to treat Bollinger as he had
treated many others who had asked him a similar question. But Bollinger
was too quick for him. He caught the old man up as if he were a child,
and placed him upon a chair.
“I’m determined to have your daughter, Mr. Knight, cost what it may.
Will you give her to me, or shall I have to take recourse to my
magnetic power to get what I want?”
“Do you want to go with this young upstart, Camilla?” her father asked.
“He is not an upstart,” she said, stoutly.
“Don’t contradict! Answer my question: Do you want to go with this
young fellow?”
“Yes.”
“Then go; I wash my hands clean of you. Git!” he shouted.
And they “got.”
* * * * *
“Bollinger,” said a young man to the magnetic healer-of-a-day as they
were seated in the former’s comfortable rooms in a hotel, “I heard
today that you at one time practiced magnetic healing. Is that true?”
Bollinger glanced at his wife and both broke out into peals of
laughter. When they finally calmed down, Bollinger asked, “And did
your informer tell you who my first patient was?”
“Your wife,” was the laconic answer. Mr. and Mrs. Bollinger laughed
again.
“I think you might tell me what the joke is,” the young man said.
“Well,” began Bollinger, “I was spending my vacation in Logansport one
summer, where I met Mrs. Bollinger. She had come to see an aunt who
lived near my hotel, and we saw a good deal of each other. By dint of
many enquiries, I found out that her father was a tough customer, so I
laid my plans accordingly. You see, I had fallen in love with the fair
Camilla, and I could not rest until she was mine. Upon reaching home,
Miss Knight was to pretend that she was ill. I was to bribe the old
country doctor to declare that Camilla was beyond all hope of recovery.
Then I was to step in, and, with my magnetic power, cure her, and, out
of sheer gratitude, Papa Knight would give her to me. But when I did
cure his daughter’s malady, like old Pharaoh, he hardened his heart,
and instead of giving me his daughter he wanted to give me a kick. I
threatened him with my magnetic power, and he finally gave her to me.
There’s the story of the time when I practiced magnetic healing. Are
you satisfied?” and, looking at Mrs. Bollinger, he burst into another
roar of laughter, but this time his guest joined him, for he was
thinking that the little ruse would bear repeating.
IN THE VALLEY OF TEETH
IN THE VALLEY OF TEETH
“By Jove, I’ve an idea!” Doctor Rothwell brought down his tilted chair
with a resounding whack.
“An idea?” said Rodger Wilbur, throwing down the paper which he was
reading, “really, let’s have it.”
“I was reading an account in a paper Frank sent me from Honolulu of a
battle which took place there a number of years ago. They celebrated
the anniversary or did something the other day worthy of the account
occupying preferred position on the front page.”
“Well, what’s so interesting in that? Lots of celebrations here in New
York have the report of their doings on the front page.”
“The account went on to say,” continued Rothwell, ignoring his friend’s
remark, “of how a large number of men were sent to their death by some
chief driving them over a huge precipice. That was a pretty long time
ago; now the plain is covered with the skeletons of the warriors and it
is visited by the Hawaiians occasionally, who have a secret trail to
the place.”
Rothwell paused for breath and Wilbur languidly remarked, “Anything
more connected with this idea of yours?”
“Rodger Wilbur, you are a man who does not deserve the luck which Dame
Fortune is laying at your door. You don’t deserve to hear anything
about a plan that will pull more in a day than your measly law gives
you in a month.”
“Come Rothwell, don’t get angry. Explain yourself a bit.”
“Well, my plan is this; let us go to Honolulu, get the teeth in that
valley, bring them back to New York, and sell them as artificial teeth.
We’ll open up a wholesale “false tooth” shop and, my boy, our fortunes
are made. The expense will be practically nothing as we were both
planning to spend the summer in London. The cost of living there would
be more than we would spend in Honolulu. What do you say?”
“Let’s go; and I say old chap, just sort of forgive me for showing a
lack of interest in your plan at the beginning, will you?”
“I will this time, but I don’t promise to always. This is not the only
occasion in which you have showed a lack of appreciation for the
schemes of my fertile brain. But when shall we start?”
“Tomorrow.”
* * * * *
The trip was uneventful and when the _Priscilla_ landed at Honolulu,
she had on board two very impatient passengers in the shape of Dr.
Rothwell and Rodger Wilbur. That very day they hired a hack and rode
out to the _pali_, where they saw for themselves the plain of which
they had read.
“Any way to get down there?” Rothwell asked to the driver, on their way
homeward.
“Sure; want to go?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, I’ll find you a man that will take you there. I’ll come to
your hotel, say at nine, and he’ll be waiting up there for us.”
The enterprising tourists were ready promptly the next morning and were
taken in tow by the Hawaiian guide. They noted the landmarks carefully
for their plans were to make many visits to this El Dorado.
As he started to turn back for home, Rothwell slipped on a skull which
was hidden in the grass and by some freak of pressure, the strong man’s
leg snapped like a pipe stem.
“Here’s a pretty how-do-you-do,” said Wilbur, “how on earth are we to
get you home?”
“No _pilikia_,” said the guide, “my house near. I take care of him till
him get better. My _kekei wahine_ she _akamai_ fix sick people. One
week--_pau_! No _pilikia_.”
“That’s the only thing we can do I guess,” said Wilbur. “If his
daughter is anywhere as pretty as that flower girl we saw yesterday
on the wharf, you have no kick coming. Besides I’ll be here every day
gathering those teeth. Say, did you notice what a lot of them there are
here?”
“More than even I dared hope. Our fortunes are made.”
Between them, the Hawaiian and Wilbur managed to carry Rothwell so that
the motion caused but little pain to the wounded leg, and they soon
arrived at the grass hut in which the guide and his daughter lived.
The father spoke a few words to his daughter who came out to greet
them, and she turned into the hut. They followed her and found her
busy preparing a bed of fresh grass over which she had laid a sheet of
_tapa_. They place Rothwell on his new bed and Violetta deftly treated
the wounded member.
“I think better we go now,” said the Hawaiian to Wilbur, “unless you
like _moi moi_ in my house.”
“I thank you, but I’ve an engagement for tonight or I would. Good
night, Rothwell. After seeing your pretty nurse, I almost wish that it
was my leg and not yours that is out of commission.”
The sudden pain which darted through Rothwell’s leg caused him to smile
grimly at his friend’s wish, but he bade him good night without another
word.
When Wilbur went to see him the next morning Rothwell said, “Wilbur,
you’d better quit coming here until I get better.”
“And why?”