"Nonsense. I haven"t seen a copy of it in two years."
"Well, here"s a despatch that I got away from the cable-office just in time. It would have gone in another ten minutes. Here it is."
Sam took the paper and read an account of the printing by a native committee of fifty thousand copies of the Declaration in Castalian, and its immediate suppression by Colonel Jinks, the censor.
"It"s a downright lie," cried Sam. "I"ll call my native secretary and inquire into this," and he rang his bell.
"See here, what does this mean?" he asked the clerk who hurried in.
The man thought a minute.
"I do not know the Declaration of Independence," he said, "but perhaps that paper I translated for you the other day had something to do with it. I have not a copy here."
"Were they burned?"
"Not yet, sir. They were seized, and are in our depot."
"Come," said Sam to Cleary, "let"s go over there and look at it. It"s a half-mile walk and it will do me good."
"How are things at San Diego?" asked Sam, as they walked along together. "You"ve been out there, haven"t you?"
"Yes. We"ll have to come in. The Cubapinos have got a force together at a town farther down the river and are threatening us there. We got pretty near them and mined under a convent they were in, and blew up a lot of them, but it didn"t do them much harm, for a lot of recruits came in just afterward from the mountains. That convent was born to be blown up, it seems, for some Castalian anarchists had a plot to blow it up some years ago, and came near doing it, too. We made use of their tunnels, which the monks were too lazy to have filled up. The anarchist plot was found out, and they garroted a dozen of them."
"What inhuman brutes those anarchists are!" cried Sam. "Think of their trying to blow up a whole houseful of people! I wish we could take some one of the smaller islands and put all the anarchists of the world there and let them live out their precious theories. Just think what a h.e.l.l it would be! What infernal engines of hatred and destruction they would construct, if they were left to themselves--machines charged with dynamite and bristling with all sorts of explosive contrivances!"
"Something like a battle-ship," suggested Cleary.
"Don"t talk nonsense!" exclaimed Sam. "Only Castalian fiends would try to destroy law and order and upset the peaceable course of society in such a way. Do you suppose that any of our people at home would do such a thing?"
"None, outside of the artillery," answered Cleary. "Well, at any rate, our blowing up of the convent didn"t do much good. There was some talk of putting poison in the river to dispose of them, but of course we couldn"t do that."
"Of course not," said Sam. "That would be barbarous and against all military precedents. The rules of war don"t allow it."
"They"re rather queer, those rules," answered his friend. "I should like my enemies to take notice that I prefer being poisoned to being blown up with bombsh.e.l.ls. In some respects they don"t pay much attention to the rules, either. They don"t take prisoners much nowadays. Most of my despatches now read, "fifty natives killed," but they say nothing of wounded or prisoners."
"We"re fighting savages, we must remember that," said Sam.
"Then we"ve got a way of trying our pistols and rifles on natives working in the fields; it"s rather novel, to say the least. I saw one man in the 73d try his new revolver on a native rowing a boat on the river, and over the fellow toppled and the boat drifted down-stream.
The men all applauded, and even the officers laughed."
"Boys will be boys," said Sam, smiling. "They"re good shots, at any rate."
"They are that. There were some darkies plowing up there just this side of San Diego, and some of our fellows picked them off as neatly as you please. It must have been eight hundred yards if it was a foot.
But somehow I don"t quite like it."
"War is war," said Sam, using a phrase which presumably has a rational meaning, as it is so often employed by reasonable people. "It doesn"t pay to be squeamish. The squeamish men don"t make good soldiers. I"ve seen enough to learn that. They hesitate to obey orders, if they don"t like them."
As he said this they pa.s.sed a small crowd of boys in the street. They were trying to make two dogs fight, but the dogs refused to do so, and the boys were beating them and urging them on.
"What stupid brutes they are," said Sam. "They"re badly trained."
"They haven"t had a military education," responded Cleary. "But I almost forgot to ask you, have you seen the papers from home this morning? They"re all full of you and your greatness. Here are two or three," and he took them from his pocket.
Sam opened them and gazed at them entranced. There was page upon page of his exploits, portraits of all kinds, biographies, anecdotes, interviews, headlines, everything that his wildest dreams had imagined, only grander and more glorious. There was nothing to be seen but the words "Captain Jinks" from one end of the papers to the other.
"They"ve even got a song about you," said Cleary. "Here it is:
""I"m Captain Jinks of the horse-marines.
I feed my horse on corn and beans.
Of course it"s quite beyond my means, Tho a captain in the army!""
"I don"t altogether like it," said Sam. "What are the horse-marines? I don"t believe there are any."
"Oh, that doesn"t make any difference. It seems it"s an old song that was all the go long before our time, and your name has revived it. It will advertise you splendidly. The whole thing is a grand piece of work for _The Lyre_. Jonas has been congratulating me on it. He"d come and tell you so, but he doesn"t want to be seen with you. You"ve censured out everything I"ve asked you to for him, and he doesn"t want people to know about his pull. That"s the reason why he"s never called on you. But he says it"s the best newspaper job he ever heard of. I tell you we"re a great combination, you and I. Perhaps I"ll write a book and call it, "With Jinks at Havilla." Rather an original t.i.tle, isn"t it? But I"m afraid that all this talk at home will not make you very popular with the officers here, who knew you when you were only a captain. What would you say to being transferred to Porsslania? They want new men for our army there, and I"ve half a mind to go too for a change and act as the _Lyre"s_ correspondent there. They"ll do anything I ask them now."
"I"d like it very much," said Sam. "I"m tired of this literary business. But here we are. This is our depot."
The two men entered the long low building in which confiscated property was stored. A soldier who was acting as watchman showed them where the circulars were piled. Cleary took one and glanced over it.
[Ill.u.s.tration: CONSENT OF THE GOVERNED "WHAT BUSINESS HAVE THESE PEOPLE TO TALK ABOUT EQUAL RIGHTS?"]
"As sure as fate, it"s the Declaration of Independence!" he laughed.
Sam took up a copy and looked at it too.
"I believe it is," he said. "I didn"t half look at it the other day.
I"m ever so much obliged to you for telling me and stopping the telegram. But between you and me, the circular ought to be suppressed anyway. What business have these people to talk about equal rights and the consent of the governed? The men who wrote the Declaration--Jeffries and the rest--were mere civilians and these ideas are purely civilian. Come, let"s have them burned at once," and he called up two or three soldiers, and in a few minutes the circulars formed a ma.s.s of glowing ashes in the courtyard.
CHAPTER X
A Great Military Exploit
[Ill.u.s.tration]
One day while Sam was still waiting for Cleary to carry out his designs, his secretary told him that a sergeant wished to see him, and Sam directed him to show him into his office. The man was a rather sinister-looking individual, and his speech betrayed his Anglian origin.
"Colonel," said he, after the door was closed and they were alone, "I"m only a sergeant promoted from the ranks, but I"m not just an ordinary common soldier. I know a thing or two, and I"ve got a plan and I thought perhaps you would be glad to "ear of it. I "ave the "abit of observing things, and most soldiers don"t. Why, bless me, you can march them into a country and out again, and with their eyes front, they don"t see a bloomin" thing. They"re trained to see nothin". They"re good for nothin" but to do as they"re bid. I used to be in the army in the old country, and once at Baldershot I saw Lord Bullsley come along on horseback and stop two soldiers carryin" a soup-pail.
""Give me a taste of that," says he, and one of them runs off and gets a ladle and gives him a taste. He spits it out and makes a face and shouts:
""Good heavens! man, you don"t call that stuff soup, do you?"
""No, sir," says the man. "It"s dish-water that we was a-hemptyin"."
That"s the soldier all over again. He "adn"t sense enough to tell him beforehand."