The sun shone very fairly on a green hillside, from which could be seen
the town of Honolulu, the capital of Hawaii. The sun makes some very
fair efforts at shining upon and around those islands lying thousands of
miles out in the Pacific Ocean. He was doing his best on this particular
morning, and under his influence, so brightening everything, two little
boys and a little jackass were having a good time near a long, low,
rakish, but far from piratical-looking house upon the hillside already
mentioned. One of the boys was white, one of the boys was brown, and the
little jackass was gray. The name of the white boy was William Harrison,
though he was always called Billy, and his father, an American merchant
in Honolulu, owned the house near which the boys were playing. The name
of the brown boy was Manua Loa, or something like that, but he was
always called Cocoanut, the nickname agreeing perfectly with his general
solid, nubbinish appearance. The name of the jackass was Julius Caesar,
but he wore almost no facial resemblance to his namesake. The date of
the day on which the little boys and the little jackass were out there
together was July 3, 1897.
As far as the three playmates were concerned, there was a practical
equality in their relations between Billy and Cocoanut and Julius
Caesar. Billy's father was a rich white man, but Cocoanut's father was a
native and of some importance, too; and as for Julius Caesar he was
quite capable at times of asserting his own standing among the trio. He
could be, on occasions, one of the most animated kicking little
jackasses living upon this globe, upon which the moon doesn't shine
quite as well as the sun does. On the occasion here referred to the
little jackass stood apart with head hanging down toward the ground,
silent and unmoving, and apparently revolving in his own mind something
concerning the geology of the Dog Star. He could be a most reflective
little beast upon occasion. The boys sat together on a knoll, their
heads close together, engaged in earnest and animated and sometimes
loud-voiced conversation. There was occasion for their lively interest.
They were discussing the Fourth of July. They were about equally ardent,
but if there were any difference it was in favor of Cocoanut, who,
within the year, had become probably the most earnest American citizen
upon the face of the civilized globe. His information regarding the
United States and American citizenship had, of course, been derived from
Billy, who had derived it from his father; and Billy's father had told
Billy, who in turn had told Cocoanut, that by the next Fourth of July
the Stars and Stripes would be flying from the flagstaffs of Hawaii,
and that then, on the Fourth, small boys could celebrate just as small
boys did in the United States. Thenceforth Billy and Cocoanut observed
the flags above Honolulu closely, but neither of them had ever seen the
Stars and Stripes lying flattened out aloft by the sea breeze. They had
faith, though, and their faith had been justified by their works. They
had between them, as the result of much begging from parents and doing a
little work occasionally, gathered together probably the most
astonishing supply of firecrackers ever possessed by two boys of their
size and degree of understanding. There were package upon package of the
small, ordinary Chinese firecrackers, and there were a dozen or two of
the big "cannon" firecrackers which have come into vogue of late years,
and the first manufacturer of whom should be taken out somewhere and
hanged with all earnestness. They were now consulting regarding the
morrow. Would the flag fly over Honolulu and could they celebrate? They
didn't know, but they had a degree of faith. Then they wandered off
somewhere with Julius Caesar and had a good time all day, but ever the
morrow was in their mind.
It was early the next morning when the two boys and Julius Caesar were
again on the point of hill overlooking Honolulu. It was so early that
the flags had not yet been hoisted over the public buildings. Each boy
carried a package, and these they unrolled and laid out together. The
display was something worth looking at. Any boy who could see that
layout of firecrackers and not feel a kind of a tingling run over him
resembling that which comes when he takes hold of the two handles of an
electrical machine wouldn't be a boy worth speaking of. He wouldn't be
the sort of a boy who had it in him to ever become President of the
United States, or captain of a baseball nine, or anything of that sort.
But these two boys quivered. Cocoanut quivered more than Billy did.
Silently the two boys and Julius Caesar awaited the raising of the flags
over Honolulu. Could they or could they not let off their firecrackers?
They might as well, said Cocoanut, be getting ready, anyhow, and so he
began tying strings of firecrackers together, adjusting cannon crackers
at intervals between the smaller ones, and adding Billy's string of
crackers to his own. When completed there were just thirty-seven and
one-half feet of firecrackers of variegated quality. Billy looked on
listlessly, and Cocoanut himself hardly knew why he was making this
arrangement. The sun bounced up out of the ocean, a great red ball
behind the thin fog, and bunting climbed the flagstaffs of Honolulu.
With eager eyes the boys gazed cityward until the moment when the breeze
had straightened out the flags and the device upon them could be seen.
Then they looked upon each other blankly. It was not the Stars and
Stripes, but the Hawaiian flag which floated there below them!
They didn't know what to do, these poor boys who wanted to be patriots
that morning and couldn't. They sat down disconsolately near to the
heels of Julius Caesar, who was whisking his stubby tail about
occasionally in vengeful search of an occasional fly. It chanced that in
the midst of this he slapped Cocoanut across the face, and that Cocoanut
incontinently grabbed the tail, to keep it from further demonstration of
the sort. Julius Caesar did not kick at this, because it was too
trifling a matter. Far better would it have been for Julius Caesar had
he kicked then and there, but the relation of why comes later on. Lost
in their sorrows, Cocoanut and Billy communed together, and Cocoanut, in
the forgetfulness of deep reflection began plaiting together the end of
the string of firecrackers and the hairs in the tail of Julius Caesar.
He was a good plaiter, was Cocoanut--they do such work with grasses and
things in and about Honolulu, and lots of little Hawaiians are good
plaiters--and it may be said of the job that when completed, although
done almost unconsciously, it was a good one. That string of
thirty-seven and one-half feet of firecrackers was not going to leave
the tail of that little jackass except under most extraordinary
circumstances.
A fly of exceptional vigor assaulted Julius Caesar upon the flank, and
his tail not whisking as well as usual, because of the incumbrance, he
missed the enemy at the first swish and moved uneasily forward for
several feet. As it chanced, this movement left the other string of
firecrackers fairly in the lap of Cocoanut. The boys were still
discussing the situation.
"It's too bad; it's too bad," said Billy. "What'll we do?"
"I don't know," said Cocoanut.
"Do you think we dare let 'em off even if the flag didn't fly?" said
Billy.
"I don't know," said Cocoanut.
"I believe I'll get on Julius Caesar and ride a little," said Billy,
"and you throw stones at him and hit him if you can. It's pretty hard to
make him run, you know."
"All right," said Cocoanut.
Billy rose and wandered over and mounted Julius Caesar, Cocoanut barely
turning his head and watching the white boy lazily as Billy gathered up
the bridle, which was the only equipment Julius Caesar had. It was then,
just as Billy had fairly settled himself down, that an inspiration came
to Cocoanut.
"Lemme let off just one little cracker," he said. "Mebbe it'll start
Julius Caesar a-going," and Billy joyously assented.
Now Cocoanut had never seen the effect which a whole string of
firecrackers can produce. He had assisted in firing one or two little
ones, and that was all he knew about it. Billy didn't know that the
string of firecrackers was attached to the tail of Julius Caesar, and
Cocoanut himself had absolutely forgotten it. Cocoanut produced a match
and lit it and carefully ignited the thin, papery end of the ultimate
little cracker on the string, and it smoked away and nickered and
sputtered toward its object.
There have been various exciting occasions upon the island whereon is
Honolulu. There have been some great volcanic explosions there, and
earthquakes and tidal waves. It is to be doubted, however, if upon that
charming island ever occurred anything more complete and alarming and
generally spectacular, in a small way, than followed the moment when the
first cracker exploded of that string of thirty-seven and one-half feet
attached to the tail of Julius Caesar. Cocoanut had expected one cracker
to go off, but had anticipated nothing further. He was correct in his
view, only as regarded the mere going-off of the cracker. What followed
was a surprise to him and to all the adjacent world. There was a rattle
and roar; the first two or three feet of small crackers went off; and
then, as the first cannon cracker was reached with a thunder and blast
of smoke, Cocoanut went over backward and away off into the grass, while
Julius Caesar simply launched himself into space. It was all down-hill
before him. He started for Australia. Anybody could see that. You
couldn't tell whether he was going for Sydney or Melbourne, but you
knew he was going for Australia in a general way. His leaps, assisted
by the down-hill course, were something to witness. Cocoanut has since
estimated them at forty feet a jump, while Billy says sixty--for both
boys, it is good to say, are still alive--but then Billy was on the
jackass and may have been excited; probably somewhere, say about fifty
feet, would be the correct estimate. Talk about your horrifying comets
with their tails of fire! They were but slight affairs, locally
considered, for terrific explosions accompanied every jump of Julius
Caesar, and comets don't make any noise. It was all swift, but the noise
and awful appearance of Billy and Julius Caesar sufficed in a minute to
startle such of the populace of Honolulu who were already awake, and
there was a wild rush of scores of people in the wake of where Billy and
Julius Caesar went downward to the sea. The extent of the leap of Julius
Caesar when he finally reached the shore has never been fully decided
upon, but it was a great leap. Billy, jackass, and fireworks went down
like a plummet, and very soon thereafter Billy and jackass, but no
fireworks, came to the surface again, and then swam vigorously toward
the shore, for everybody and everything in Hawaii can swim like a duck.
They were received by a brown and wildly applauding crowd of natives,
and a minute or two later by Cocoanut, who had run like a deer to see
the end of the vast performance he had inaugurated.
An hour or two later two boys and a little jackass were all together
upon the hill again, the boys excited and jubilant and saying that
they'd had a Fourth of July, anyhow, and the jackass in a doubtful and
thoughtful mood.
The boys have grown amazingly since. The jackass seems to be about the
same. But about the Fourth of July next at hand the boys won't have the
same trouble they had in 1897.