The Reporter Who Made Himself King
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Davis >> The Reporter Who Made Himself King
"There was only one brass cannon and two huts," expostulated
Stedman.
"Well, that was the whole battery, wasn't it?" asked Gordon,
"and two huts is plural. I said houses of the people. I
couldn't say two houses of the people. Just you send this as
you get it. You are not an American consul at the present
moment. You are an under-paid agent of a cable company, and
you send my stuff as I write it. The American residents have
taken refuge in the consulate--that's us," explained Gordon,
"and the English residents have sought refuge in the
woods--that's the Bradleys. King Tellaman--that's
me--declares his intention of fighting against the annexation.
The forces of the Opekians are under the command of Captain
Thomas Bradley--I guess I might as well make him a colonel--of
Colonel Thomas Bradley, of the English army.
"The American consul says--Now, what do you say, Stedman?
Hurry up, please," asked Gordon, "and say something good and
strong."
"You get me all mixed up," complained Stedman, plaintively.
"Which am I now, a cable operator or the American consul?"
"Consul, of course. Say something patriotic and about your
determination to protect the interests of your government, and
all that." Gordon bit the end of his pencil impatiently, and
waited.
"I won't do anything of the sort, Gordon," said Stedman; "you
are getting me into an awful lot of trouble, and yourself too.
I won't say a word."
"The American consul," read Gordon, as his pencil wriggled
across the paper, "refuses to say anything for publication
until he has communicated with the authorities at Washington,
but from all I can learn he sympathizes entirely with
Tellaman. Your correspondent has just returned from an audience
with King Tellaman, who asks him to inform the American
people that the Monroe doctrine will be sustained as long as
he rules this island. I guess that's enough to begin with,"
said Gordon. "Now send that off quick, and then get away from
the instrument before the man in Octavia begins to ask
questions. I am going out to precipitate matters."
Gordon found the two kings sitting dejectedly side by side,
and gazing grimly upon the disorder of the village, from which
the people were taking their leave as quickly as they could
get their few belongings piled upon the ox-carts. Gordon
walked among them, helping them in every way he could, and
tasting, in their subservience and gratitude, the sweets of
sovereignty. When Stedman had locked up the cable office and
rejoined him, he bade him tell Messenwah to send three of his
youngest men and fastest runners back to the hills to watch
for the German vessel and see where she was attempting to land
her marines.
"This is a tremendous chance for descriptive writing,
Stedman," said Gordon, enthusiastically; "all this confusion
and excitement, and the people leaving their homes, and all
that. It's like the people getting out of Brussels before
Waterloo, and then the scene at the foot of the mountains,
while they are camping out there, until the Germans leave. I
never had a chance like this before."
It was quite dark by six o'clock, and none of the three
messengers had as yet returned. Gordon walked up and down the
empty plaza and looked now at the horizon for the man-of-war,
and again down the road back of the village. But neither the
vessel nor the messengers bearing word of her appeared. The
night passed without any incident, and in the morning Gordon's
impatience became so great that he walked out to where the
villagers were in camp and passed on half way up the mountain,
but he could see no sign of the man-of-war. He came back more
restless than before, and keenly disappointed.
"If something don't happen before three o'clock, Stedman," he
said, "our second cablegram will have to consist of glittering
generalities And a lengthy interview with King Tellaman, by
himself."
Nothing did happen. Ollypybus and Messenwah began to breathe
more freely. They believed the new king had succeeded in
frightening the German vessel away forever. But the new king
upset their hopes by telling them that the Germans had
undoubtedly already landed, and had probably killed the three
messengers.
"Now then," he said, with pleased expectation, as Stedman and
he seated themselves in the cable office at three o'clock,
"open it up and let's find out what sort of an impression we
have made."
Stedman's face, as the answer came in to his first message of
greeting, was one of strangely marked disapproval.
"What does he say?" demanded Gordon, anxiously.
"He hasn't done anything but swear yet," answered Stedman,
grimly.
"What is he swearing about?"
"He wants to know why I left the cable yesterday. He says he
has been trying to call me up for the last twenty-four hours,
ever since I sent my message at three o'clock. The home
office is jumping mad, and want me discharged. They won't do
that, though," he said, in a cheerful aside, "because they
haven't paid me my salary for the last eight months. He
says--great Scott! this will please you, Gordon--he says that
there have been over two hundred queries for matter from
papers all over the United States, and from Europe. Your
paper beat them on the news, and now the home office is packed
with San Francisco reporters, and the telegrams are coming in
every minute, and they have been abusing him for not answering
them, and he says that I'm a fool. He wants as much as you
can send, and all the details. He says all the papers will
have to put `By Yokohama Cable Company' on the top of each
message they print, and that that is advertising the company,
and is sending the stock up. It rose fifteen points on
'change in San Francisco to-day, and the president and the
other officers are buying----"
"Oh, I don't want to hear about their old company," snapped
out Gordon, pacing up and down in despair. "What am I to do?
that's what I want to know. Here I have the whole country
stirred up and begging for news. On their knees for it, and a
cable all to myself, and the only man on the spot, and nothing
to say. I'd just like to know how long that German idiot
intends to wait before he begins shelling this town and
killing people. He has put me in a most absurd position."
"Here's a message for you, Gordon," said Stedman, with
business-like calm. "Albert Gordon, Correspondent," he read:
"Try American consul. First message 0. K.; beat the country;
can take all you send. Give names of foreign residents
massacred, and fuller account blowing up palace. Dodge."
The expression on Gordon's face as this message was slowly
read off to him, had changed from one of gratified pride to
one of puzzled consternation.
"What's he mean by foreign residents massacred, and blowing up
of palace?" asked Stedman, looking over his shoulder
anxiously. "Who is Dodge?"
"Dodge is the night editor," said Gordon, nervously. "They
must have read my message wrong. You sent just what I gave
you, didn't you?" he asked.
"Of course I did," said Stedman, indignantly. "I didn't say
anything about the massacre of anybody, did I?" asked Gordon.
"I hope they are not improving on my account. What AM I to
do? This is getting awful. I'll have to go out and kill a
few people myself. Oh, why don't that Dutch captain begin to
do something! What sort of a fighter does he call himself?
He wouldn't shoot at a school of porpoises. He's not----"
"Here comes a message to Leonard T. Travis, American consul,
Opeki," read Stedman. "It's raining messages to-day. `Send
full details of massacre of American citizens by German
sailors.' Secretary of--great Scott!" gasped Stedman,
interrupting himself and gazing at his instrument with horrified
fascination--"the Secretary of State."
"That settles it," roared Gordon, pulling at his hair and
burying his face in his hands. "I have GOT to kill some of
them now."
"Albert Gordon, Correspondent," read Stedman, impressively,
like the voice of Fate. "Is Colonel Thomas Bradley commanding
native forces at Opeki, Colonel Sir Thomas Kent-Bradley of
Crimean war fame? Correspondent London Times, San Francisco
Press Club."
"Go on, go on!" said Gordon, desperately. "I'm getting used
to it now. Go on!"
"American consul, Opeki," read Stedman. "Home Secretary
desires you to furnish list of names English residents killed
during shelling of Opeki by ship of war Kaiser, and estimate
of amount property destroyed. Stoughton, British Embassy,
Washington."
"Stedman!" cried Gordon, jumping to his feet, there's a
mistake here somewhere. These people cannot all have made my
message read like that. Someone has altered it, and now I
have got to make these people here live up to that message,
whether they like being massacred and blown up or not. Don't
answer any of those messages except the one from Dodge; tell
him things have quieted down a bit, and that I'll send four
thousand words on the flight of the natives from the village,
and their encampment at the foot of the mountains, and of the
exploring party we have sent out to look for the German
vessel; and now I am going out to make something happen."
Gordon said that he would be gone for two hours at least, and
as Stedman did not feel capable of receiving any more
nerve-stirring messages, he cut off all connection with
Octavia by saying, "Good-by for two hours," and running away
from the office. He sat down on a rock on the beach, and
mopped his face with his handkerchief.
"After a man has taken nothing more exciting than weather
reports from Octavia for a year," he soliloquized, "it's a bit
disturbing to have all the crowned heads of Europe and their
secretaries calling upon you for details of a massacre that
never came off."
At the end of two hours Gordon returned from the consulate
with a mass of manuscript in his hand.
"Here's three thousand words," he said, desperately. "I never
wrote more and said less in my life. It will make them weep
at the office. I had to pretend that they knew all that had
happened so far; they apparently do know more than we do, and
I have filled it full of prophesies of more trouble ahead, and
with interviews with myself and the two ex-Kings. The only
news element in it is, that the messengers have returned to
report that the German vessel is not in sight, and that there
is no news. They think she has gone for good. Suppose she
has, Stedman," he groaned, looking at him helplessly, "what
AM I going to do?"
"Well, as for me," said Stedman, "I'm afraid to go near that
cable. It's like playing with a live wire. My nervous system
won't stand many more such shocks as those they gave us this
morning."
Gordon threw himself down dejectedly in a chair in the office,
and Stedman approached his instrument gingerly, as though it
might explode.
"He's swearing again," he explained, sadly, in answer to
Gordon's look of inquiry. "He wants to know when I am going
to stop running away from the wire. He has a stack of
messages to send, he says, but I guess he'd better wait and
take your copy first; don't you think so?"
"Yes, I do," said Gordon. "I don't want any more messages
than I've had. That's the best I can do," he said, as he
threw his manuscript down beside Stedman. "And they can keep
on cabling until the wire burns red hot, and they won't get
any more."
There was silence in the office for some time, while Stedman
looked over Gordon's copy, and Gordon stared dejectedly out at
the ocean.
"This is pretty poor stuff, Gordon," said Stedman. "It's like
giving people milk when they want brandy."
"Don't you suppose I know that?" growled Gordon. "It's the
best I can do, isn't it? It's not my fault that we are not
all dead now. I can't massacre foreign residents if there are
no foreign residents, but I can commit suicide, though, and
I'll do it if something don't happen."
There was a long pause, in which the silence of the office was
only broken by the sound of the waves beating on the coral
reefs outside. Stedman raised his head wearily.
"He's swearing again," he said; "he says this stuff of yours
is all nonsense. He says stock in the Y.C.C. has gone up to
one hundred and two, and that owners are unloading and making
their fortunes, and that this sort of descriptive writing is
not what the company want."
"What's he think I'm here for?" cried Gordon. "Does he think
I pulled down the German flag and risked my neck half a dozen
times and had myself made King just to boom his Yokohama cable
stock? Confound him! You might at least swear back. Tell
him just what the situation is in a few words. Here, stop
that rigmarole to the paper, and explain to your home office
that we are awaiting developments, and that, in the meanwhile,
they must put up with the best we can send them. Wait; send
this to Octavia."
Gordon wrote rapidly, and read what he wrote as rapidly as it
was written.
"Operator, Octavia. You seem to have misunderstood my first
message. The facts in the case are these. A German
man-of-war raised a flag on this island. It was pulled down
and the American flag raised in its place and saluted by a
brass cannon. The German man-of-war fired once at the flag
and knocked it down, and then steamed away and has not been
seen since. Two huts were upset, that is all the damage done;
the battery consisted of the one brass cannon before
mentioned. No one, either native or foreign, has been
massacred. The English residents are two sailors. The
American residents are the young man who is sending you this
cable and myself. Our first message was quite true in
substance, but perhaps misleading in detail. I made it so
because I fully expected much more to happen immediately.
Nothing has happened, or seems likely to happen, and that is
the exact situation up to date. Albert Gordon."
"Now," he asked, after a pause, "what does he say to that?"
"He doesn't say anything," said Stedman.
"I guess he has fainted. Here it comes," he added in the same
breath. He bent toward his instrument, and Gordon raised
himself from his chair and stood beside him as he read it off.
The two young men hardly breathed in the intensity of their
interest.
"Dear Stedman," he slowly read aloud. "You and your young
friend are a couple of fools. If you had allowed me to send
you the messages awaiting transmission here to you, you would
not have sent me such a confession of guilt as you have just
done. You had better leave Opeki at once or hide in the
hills. I am afraid I have placed you in a somewhat
compromising position with the company, which is unfortunate,
especially as, if I am not mistaken, they owe you some back
pay. You should have been wiser in your day, and bought
Y.C.C. stock when it was down to five cents, as `yours truly'
did. You are not, Stedman, as bright a boy as some. And as
for your friend, the war-correspondent, he has queered himself
for life. You see, my dear Stedman, after I had sent off your
first message, and demands for further details came pouring
in, and I could not get you at the wire to supply them, I took
the liberty of sending some on myself."
"Great Heavensl" gasped Gordon.
Stedman grew very white under his tan, and the perspiration
rolled on his cheeks.
"Your message was so general in its nature, that it allowed my
imagination full play, and I sent on what I thought would
please the papers, and, what was much more important to me,
would advertise the Y.C.C. stock. This I have been doing
while waiting for material from you. Not having a clear idea
of the dimensions or population of Opeki, it is possible that
I have done you and your newspaper friend some injustice. I
killed off about a hundred American residents, two hundred
English, because I do not like the English, and a hundred
French. I blew up old Ollypybus and his palace with dynamite,
and shelled the city, destroying some hundred thousand
dollars' worth of property, and then I waited anxiously for
your friend to substantiate what I had said. This he has most
unkindly failed to do. I am very sorry, but much more so for
him than for myself, for I, my dear friend, have cabled on to
a man in San Francisco, who is one of the directors of the
Y.C.C., to sell all my stock, which he has done at one hundred
and two, and he is keeping the money until I come. And I
leave Octavia this afternoon to reap my just reward. I am in
about twenty thousand dollars on your little war, and I feel
grateful. So much so that I will inform you that the ship of
war Kaiser has arrived at San Francisco, for which port she
sailed directly from Opeki. Her captain has explained the
real situation, and offered to make every amend for the
accidental indignity shown to our flag. He says he aimed at
the cannon, which was trained on his vessel, and which had
first fired on him. But you must know, my dear Stedman, that
before his arrival, war-vessels belonging to the several
powers mentioned in my revised despatches, had started for
Opeki at full speed, to revenge the butchery of the foreign
residents. A word, my dear young friend, to the wise is
sufficient. I am indebted to you to the extent of twenty
thousand dollars, and in return I give you this kindly advice.
Leave Opeki. If there is no other way, swim. But leave Opeki."
The sun, that night, as it sank below the line where the
clouds seemed to touch the sea, merged them both into a
blazing, blood-red curtain, and colored the most wonderful
spectacle that the natives of Opeki had ever seen. Six great
ships of war, stretching out over a league of sea, stood
blackly out against the red background, rolling and rising,
and leaping forward, flinging back smoke and burning sparks up
into the air behind them, and throbbing and panting like
living creatures in their race for revenge. From the south
came a three-decked vessel, a great island of floating steel,
with a flag as red as the angry sky behind it, snapping in the
wind. To the south of it plunged two long low-lying
torpedo-boats, flying the French tri-color, and still farther
to the north towered three magnificent hulls of the White
Squadron. Vengeance was written on every curve and line, on
each straining engine-rod, and on each polished gun-muzzle.
And in front of these, a clumsy fishing-boat rose and fell on
each passing wave. Two sailors sat in the stern, holding the
rope and tiller, and in the bow, with their backs turned forever
toward Opeki, stood two young boys, their faces lit by the glow
of the setting sun and stirred by the sight of the great engines
of war plunging past them on their errand of vengeance.
"Stedman," said the elder boy, in an awe-struck whisper,
and with a wave of his hand, "we have not lived in vain."