THE PRIMARIES
The sun of Friday morning shines brightly. The sparrows chirp, the
wagons rattle, the boys cry the papers, and the household smiles.
The peddling huckster's son is not surprised. He knew Dr. Floddin
would cure Davy.
The cook buys heavily. They'll eat now. "Mind what I'll fix for that
darlint to-day!" she threatens.
The housekeeper has taken Esther's place at Davy's couch.
"You have undoubtedly saved the life of your boy by making him take the
emetic. He will love you just as much. I know--Mrs. Lockwin was
telling me how much it disturbed you. Don't lose your empire over him,
and he will be all right in a week. He must not have a relapse--that
might kill him."
"Doctor, I am risen out of hell, the third day. I cannot tell you what
I have felt, especially since midnight. But I can tell you now what I
want. I desire that you shall take my place on this case. My personal
affairs are extremely pressing. What yesterday was impossible is now
easy. In fact, it seems to me that only impossibilities are probable.
Remember that money is of no account. Throw aside your other practice.
See that the women keep my boy from catching that cold again and I will
pay you any sum you may name."
In Lockwin's school money will purchase all things. Money will now
keep Davy from a relapse. Money will carry the primaries. Money will
win the election.
After all, Lockwin is inclined to smile at the terrors of the evening
before. "I was in need of sleep," he says.
He has not slept since. Why is he so brave now? But brave he is. He
carries an air of happiness all about him. He has left his Davy
talking in his own voice, breathing with perfect freedom and ready to
go to sleep.
The people's idol appears at head-quarters. He tells all the boys of
his good fortune. They open his barrel and become more in hope of the
country than ever before.
The great Corkey appears also at Lockwin's head-quarters. "Hear you've
had sickness." he says. "Sorry, because I guess I've knocked you out
while you was at home. I never like to take an unfair advantage of
nobody."
"Glad to see you, Mr. Corkey. Go ahead! Nobody happier than me
to-day."
"He beats me," said Corkey; "but he isn't goin' to be so sweet
to-night."
"Oh, I'm elected, sure!" Corkey announces on the docks. "Harpwood he
offer me the collectorship of the port if I git down. But I go round
to Lockwin's, and he seem to hope I'd win. He beats _me_."
"Why, he's the machine man, Corkey. You don't expect to beat the
machine?"
"Cert. All machines is knocked out, some time, ain't they?"
"Not by the marines, Corkey."
"I can lick the man who comes down on these docks to say I'm going to
get the worst of it."
Corkey is accordingly elected, and all hands take a drink at the other
fellow's invitation, for which the great Corkey demands the privilege
of paying. With this prologue the crowds start for the primaries.
"Lockwin, I expect you to stand straight up to the work to-day. You
went back on us a little through the week. I know how sickness is, but
my wife died while I was in charge of one campaign. Politics is
politics. Stand to the work to-day. Nothing's the matter. You've
created a good feeling among the boys. I've got to give the car
company some more streets anyhow. The residents are hot for
facilities. So don't bother about their coming over. They will be
over about three o'clock. Let Corkey have the precincts of the Second
and Third. If he comes further, a-repeating, you folks must fight. He
will vote the gamblers but they will put in vest-pocket tickets for
you. Understand? Got all I said? Give Corkey two wards---if he can
get the sailors up."
Such are the day's injunctions of the political boss. It is only a
special election in one district. It is practically settled already.
The boss has a thousand other matters of equal moment.
This is a day on which the prominent citizen stays out of politics.
The polling booths are built of stout timber in front of some saloon.
The line which is in possession votes all day. Every vote counts one.
The sailors arrive and form in line before the various polls of the
Second and Third wards.
A stranger--a tenderfoot--that is, a resident party man, entitled to
vote--takes his place in the line.
"What did you tell me I lied for?" asks a very tough politician.
"I didn't tell you you lied."
"I lie, do I?"
Several toughs seize the infuriated politician and hold him while the
resident escapes.
These wards will be carried for Corkey. In twice as many other
precincts the situation is precisely the same, except that Harpwood and
Lockwin, the recognized rivals, have the polls.
At three o'clock the wagons begin to unload, vote and reload. A place
is made at the head of the line for these "passengers."
The "passenger" sailors vote at all of Corkey's precincts. They start
for the other wards.
Now we may see the man Lockwin as commandant. He has the police and
the touching committees. He is voting his own "passengers" by the
thousands.
The sailors arrive in wagons.
"You can't unload here!" says Lockwin.
The sailors unload.
Eight men seize a sailor and land him back in the wagon.
Corkey sits on the wagon in front. He draws his revolver.
"Put up that gun!" cries Lockwin.
"Put up your pop, Corkey," cry a half-dozen friendly toughs.
"I hate to do it," says Corkey, "but I guess them fellers has got the
drop on me."
The battle is over. The sailors are all in the wagon. They drive off
toward another precinct.
Corkey is pronounced a white-flag man. It is recalled that he let a
partner play in his faro bank and did not kill the traitor.
"Oh, Corkey ain't no good at all," say the bad men from Bitter Creek.
It heats their blood. They shake hands with Lockwin and deploy on the
threatened precincts.
When the sailors unload at the next precinct of the Fourth ward the
emissaries who have arrived with notice of Corkey's surrender--these
great hearts lead the fight. A saloon-keeper rushes out with a
bung-starter and hits a sailor on the head. An alderman bites off a
sailor's ear. An athletic sailor fells the first six foes who advance
upon him. A shot is fired. The long line at the polls dissolves as if
by magic. The judges of election disappear out the back door.
There is nothing for the unoccupied alderman to do but to place 400
Lockwin ballots in the box.
The Lockwin ballot contains the name of delegates who are sworn for all
time to the alderman.
The police finally arrest all the fighting sailors and hurry them to
the station.
The attempt of Corkey to carry any wards or precincts outside of the
First and Second is futile. It passes the practicable. In theory it
was good.
Twelve wagon-loads of fighting sailors ought to be able to vote
anywhere.
A Napoleon would have massed his forces and conquered precincts.
But Napoleon himself sometimes displayed the white feather.
And that is the only way in which Corkey resembles Napoleon.