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diff --git a/1762-h/1762-h.htm b/1762-h/1762-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee9bc71 --- /dev/null +++ b/1762-h/1762-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1638 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Consul, by Richard Harding Davis</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Consul, by Richard Harding Davis</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Consul</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Richard Harding Davis</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May, 1999 [eBook #1762]<br /> +[Most recently updated: March 20, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Aaron Cannon and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONSUL ***</div> + +<h1>THE CONSUL</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Richard Harding Davis</h2> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +For over forty years, in one part of the world or another, old man Marshall +had, served his country as a United States consul. He had been appointed by +Lincoln. For a quarter of a century that fact was his distinction. It was now +his epitaph. But in former years, as each new administration succeeded the old, +it had again and again saved his official head. When victorious and voracious +place-hunters, searching the map of the world for spoils, dug out his +hiding-place and demanded his consular sign as a reward for a younger and more +aggressive party worker, the ghost of the dead President protected him. In the +State Department, Marshall had become a tradition. “You can’t touch Him!” the +State Department would say; “why, <small>HE</small> was appointed by Lincoln!” +Secretly, for this weapon against the hungry headhunters, the department was +infinitely grateful. Old man Marshall was a consul after its own heart. Like a +soldier, he was obedient, disciplined; wherever he was sent, there, without +question, he would go. Never against exile, against ill-health, against climate +did he make complaint. Nor when he was moved on and down to make way for some +ne’er-do-well with influence, with a brother-in-law in the Senate, with a +cousin owning a newspaper, with rich relatives who desired him to drink himself +to death at the expense of the government rather than at their own, did old man +Marshall point to his record as a claim for more just treatment. +</p> + +<p> +And it had been an excellent record. His official reports, in a quaint, stately +hand, were models of English; full of information, intelligent, valuable, well +observed. And those few of his countrymen, who stumbled upon him in the +out-of-the-world places to which of late he had been banished, wrote of him to +the department in terms of admiration and awe. Never had he or his friends +petitioned for promotion, until it was at last apparent that, save for his +record and the memory of his dead patron, he had no friends. But, still in the +department the tradition held and, though he was not advanced, he was not +dismissed. +</p> + +<p> +“If that old man’s been feeding from the public trough ever since the Civil +War,” protested a “practical” politician, “it seems to me, Mr. Secretary, that +he’s about had his share. Ain’t it time he give some one else a bite? Some of +us that has, done the work, that has borne the brunt——” +</p> + +<p> +“This place he now holds,” interrupted the Secretary of State suavely, “is one +hardly commensurate with services like yours. I can’t pronounce the name of it, +and I’m not sure just where it is, but I see that, of the last six consuls we +sent there, three resigned within a month and the other three died of +yellow-fever. Still, if you insist——” +</p> + +<p> +The practical politician reconsidered hastily. “I’m not the sort,” he +protested, “to turn out a man appointed by our martyred President. Besides, +he’s so old now, if the fever don’t catch him, he’ll die of old age, anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +The Secretary coughed uncomfortably. “And they say,” he murmured, “republics +are ungrateful.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite get that,” said the practical politician. +</p> + +<p> +Of Porto Banos, of the Republic of Colombia, where as consul Mr. Marshall was +upholding the dignity of the United States, little could be said except that it +possessed a sure harbor. When driven from the Caribbean Sea by stress of +weather, the largest of ocean tramps, and even battle-ships, could find in its +protecting arms of coral a safe shelter. But, as young Mr. Aiken, the wireless +operator, pointed out, unless driven by a hurricane and the fear of death, no +one ever visited it. Back of the ancient wharfs, that dated from the days when +Porto Banos was a receiver of stolen goods for buccaneers and pirates, were +rows of thatched huts, streets, according to the season, of dust or mud, a few +iron-barred, jail-like barracks, customhouses, municipal buildings, and the +whitewashed adobe houses of the consuls. The backyard of the town was a swamp. +Through this at five each morning a rusty engine pulled a train of flat cars to +the base of the mountains, and, if meanwhile the rails had not disappeared into +the swamp, at five in the evening brought back the flat cars laden with odorous +coffee-sacks. +</p> + +<p> +In the daily life of Porto Banos, waiting for the return of the train, and +betting if it would return, was the chief interest. Each night the consuls, the +foreign residents, the wireless operator, the manager of the rusty railroad met +for dinner. There at the head of the long table, by virtue of his years, of his +courtesy and distinguished manner, of his office, Mr. Marshall presided. Of the +little band of exiles he was the chosen ruler. His rule was gentle. By force of +example he had made existence in Porto Banos more possible. For women and +children Porto Banos was a death-trap, and before “old man Marshall” came there +had been no influence to remind the enforced bachelors of other days. +</p> + +<p> +They had lost interest, had grown lax, irritable, morose. Their white duck was +seldom white. Their cheeks were unshaven. When the sun sank into the swamp and +the heat still turned Porto Banos into a Turkish bath, they threw dice on the +greasy tables of the Café Bolivar for drinks. The petty gambling led to petty +quarrels; the drinks to fever. The coming of Mr. Marshall changed that. His +standard of life, his tact, his worldly wisdom, his cheerful courtesy, his +fastidious personal neatness shamed the younger men; the desire to please him, +to, stand well in his good opinion, brought back pride and self-esteem. +</p> + +<p> +The lieutenant of her Majesty’s gun-boat <i>Plover</i> noted the change. +</p> + +<p> +“Used to be,” he exclaimed, “you couldn’t get out of the Café Bolivar without +some one sticking a knife in you; now it’s a debating club. They all sit round +a table and listen to an old gentleman talk world politics.” +</p> + +<p> +If Henry Marshall brought content to the exiles of Porto Banos, there was +little in return that Porto Banos could give to him. Magazines and +correspondents in six languages kept him in touch with those foreign lands in +which he had represented his country, but of the country he had represented, +newspapers and periodicals showed him only too clearly that in forty years it +had grown away from him, had changed beyond recognition. +</p> + +<p> +When last he had called at the State Department, he had been made to feel he +was a man without a country, and when he visited his home town in Vermont, he +was looked upon as a Rip Van Winkle. Those of his boyhood friends who were not +dead had long thought of him as dead. And the sleepy, pretty village had become +a bustling commercial centre. In the lanes where, as a young man, he had walked +among wheatfields, trolley-cars whirled between rows of mills and factories. +The children had grown to manhood, with children of their own. +</p> + +<p> +Like a ghost, he searched for house after house, where once he had been made +welcome, only to find in its place a towering office building. “All had gone, +the old familiar faces.” In vain he scanned even the shop fronts for a +friendly, homelike name. Whether the fault was his, whether he would better +have served his own interests than those of his government, it now was too late +to determine. In his own home, he was a stranger among strangers. In the +service he had so faithfully followed, rank by rank, he had been dropped, until +now he, who twice had been a consul-general, was an exile, banished to a fever +swamp. The great Ship of State had dropped him overside, had “marooned” him, +and sailed away. +</p> + +<p> +Twice a day he walked along the shell road to the Café Bolivar, and back again +to the consulate. There, as he entered the outer office, José, the Colombian +clerk, would rise and bow profoundly. +</p> + +<p> +“Any papers for me to sign, José?” the consul would ask. +</p> + +<p> +“Not to-day, Excellency,” the clerk would reply. Then José would return to +writing a letter to his lady-love; not that there was any-thing to tell her, +but because writing on the official paper of the consulate gave him importance +in his eyes, and in hers. And in the inner office the consul would continue to +gaze at the empty harbor, the empty coral reefs, the empty, burning sky. +</p> + +<p> +The little band of exiles were at second break fast when the wireless man came +in late to announce that a Red D. boat and the island of Curaçao had both +reported a hurricane coming north. Also, that much concern was felt for the +safety of the yacht <i>Serapis</i>. Three days before, in advance of her +coming, she had sent a wireless to Wilhelmstad, asking the captain of the port +to reserve a berth for her. She expected to arrive the following morning. +</p> + +<p> +But for forty-eight hours nothing had been heard from her, and it was believed +she had been overhauled by the hurricane. Owing to the presence on board of +Senator Hanley, the closest friend of the new President, the man who had made +him president, much concern was felt at Washington. To try to pick her up by +wireless, the gun-boat <i>Newark</i> had been ordered from Culebra, the cruiser +<i>Raleigh</i>, with Admiral Hardy on board, from Colon. It was possible she +would seek shelter at Porto Banos. The consul was ordered to report. +</p> + +<p> +As Marshall wrote out his answer, the French consul exclaimed with interest: +</p> + +<p> +“He is of importance, then, this senator?” he asked. “Is it that in your +country ships of war are at the service of a senator?” +</p> + +<p> +Aiken, the wireless operator, grinned derisively. +</p> + +<p> +“At the service of <i>this</i> senator, they are!” he answered. “They call him +the ‘king-maker,’ the man behind the throne.” +</p> + +<p> +“But in your country,” protested the Frenchman, “there is no throne. I thought +your president was elected by the people?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what the people think,” answered Aiken. “In God’s country,” he +explained, “the trusts want a rich man in the Senate, with the same interests +as their own, to represent them. They chose Hanley. He picked out of the +candidates for the presidency the man he thought would help the interests. He +nominated him, and the people voted for him. Hanley is what we call a ‘boss.’” +</p> + +<p> +The Frenchman looked inquiringly at Marshall. +</p> + +<p> +“The position of the boss is the more dangerous,” said Marshall gravely, +“because it is unofficial, because there are no laws to curtail his powers. Men +like Senator Hanley are a menace to good government. They see in public office +only a reward for party workers.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” assented Aiken. “Your forty years’ service, Mr. Consul, +wouldn’t count with Hanley. If he wanted your job, he’d throw you out as quick +as he would a drunken cook.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Marshall flushed painfully, and the French consul hastened to interrupt. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, let us pray,” he exclaimed, with fervor, “that the hurricane has sunk +the <i>Serapis</i>, and all on board.” +</p> + +<p> +Two hours later, the <i>Serapis</i>, showing she had met the hurricane and had +come out second best, steamed into the harbor. +</p> + +<p> +Her owner was young Herbert Livingstone, of Washington. He once had been in the +diplomatic service, and, as minister to The Hague, wished to return to it. In +order to bring this about he had subscribed liberally to the party campaign +fund. +</p> + +<p> +With him, among other distinguished persons, was the all-powerful Hanley. The +kidnapping of Hanley for the cruise, in itself, demonstrated the ability of +Livingstone as a diplomat. It was the opinion of many that it would surely lead +to his appointment as a minister plenipotentiary. Livingstone was of the same +opinion. He had not lived long in the nation’s capital without observing the +value of propinquity. How many men he knew were now paymasters, and secretaries +of legation, solely because those high in the government met them daily at the +Metropolitan Club, and preferred them in almost any other place. And if, after +three weeks as his guest on board what the newspapers called his floating +palace, the senator could refuse him even the prize, legation of Europe, there +was no value in modest merit. As yet, Livingstone had not hinted at his +ambition. There was no need. To a statesman of Hanley’s astuteness, the +largeness of Livingstone’s contribution to the campaign fund was +self-explanatory. +</p> + +<p> +After her wrestling-match with the hurricane, all those on board the +<i>Serapis</i> seemed to find in land, even in the swamp land of Porto Banos, a +compelling attraction. Before the anchors hit the water, they were in the +launch. On reaching shore, they made at once for the consulate. There were many +cables they wished to start on their way by wireless; cables to friends, to +newspapers, to the government. +</p> + +<p> +José, the Colombian clerk, appalled by the unprecedented invasion of visitors, +of visitors so distinguished, and Marshall, grateful for a chance to serve his +fellow-countrymen, and especially his countrywomen, were ubiquitous, eager, +indispensable. At José’s desk the great senator, rolling his cigar between his +teeth, was using, to José’s ecstasy, José’s own pen to write a reassuring +message to the White House. At the consul’s desk a beautiful creature, all in +lace and pearls, was struggling to compress the very low opinion she held of a +hurricane into ten words. On his knee, Henry Cairns, the banker, was inditing +instructions to his Wall Street office, and upon himself Livingstone had taken +the responsibility of replying to the inquiries heaped upon Marshall’s desk, +from many newspapers. +</p> + +<p> +It was just before sunset, and Marshall produced his tea things, and the young +person in pearls and lace, who was Miss Cairns, made tea for the women, and the +men mixed gin and limes with tepid water. The consul apologized for proposing a +toast in which they could not join. He begged to drink to those who had escaped +the perils of the sea. Had they been his oldest and nearest friends, his little +speech could not have been more heart-felt and sincere. To his distress, it +moved one of the ladies to tears, and in embarrassment he turned to the men. +</p> + +<p> +“I regret there is no ice,” he said, “but you know the rule of the tropics; as +soon as a ship enters port, the ice-machine bursts.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell the steward to send you some, sir,” said Livingstone, “and as long +as we’re here.” +</p> + +<p> +The senator showed his concern. +</p> + +<p> +“As long as we’re here?” he gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Not over two days,” answered the owner nervously. “The chief says it will take +all of that to get her in shape. As you ought to know, Senator, she was pretty +badly mauled.” +</p> + +<p> +The senator gazed blankly out of the window. Beyond it lay the naked coral +reefs, the empty sky, and the ragged palms of Porto Banos. +</p> + +<p> +Livingstone felt that his legation was slipping from him. +</p> + +<p> +“That wireless operator,” he continued hastily, “tells me there is a most +amusing place a few miles down the coast, Las Bocas, a sort of Coney Island, +where the government people go for the summer. There’s surf bathing and +roulette and cafes chantants. He says there’s some Spanish dancers——” +</p> + +<p> +The guests of the <i>Serapis</i> exclaimed with interest; the senator smiled. +To Marshall the general enthusiasm over the thought of a ride on a +merry-go-round suggested that the friends of Mr. Livingstone had found their +own society far from satisfying. +</p> + +<p> +Greatly encouraged, Livingstone continued, with enthusiasm: +</p> + +<p> +“And that wireless man said,” he added, “that with the launch we can get there +in half an hour. We might run down after dinner.” He turned to Marshall. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you join us, Mr. Consul?” he asked, “and dine with us, first?” +</p> + +<p> +Marshall accepted with genuine pleasure. It had been many months since he had +sat at table with his own people. But he shook his head doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I was wondering about Las Bocas,” he explained, “if your going there might not +get you in trouble at the next port. With a yacht, I think it is different, but +Las Bocas is under quarantine.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a chorus of exclamations. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not serious,” Marshall explained. “There was bubonic plague there, or +something like it. You would be in no danger from that. It is only that you +might be held up by the regulations. Passenger steamers can’t land any one who +has been there at any other port of the West Indies. The English are especially +strict. The Royal Mail won’t even receive any one on board here without a +certificate from the English consul saying he has not visited Las Bocas. For an +American they would require the same guarantee from me. But I don’t think the +regulations extend to yachts. I will inquire. I don’t wish to deprive you of +any of the many pleasures of Porto Banos,” he added, smiling, “but if you were +refused a landing at your next port I would blame myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right,” declared Livingstone decidedly. “It’s just as you say; yachts +and warships are exempt. Besides, I carry my own doctor, and if he won’t give +us a clean bill of health, I’ll make him walk the plank. At eight, then, at +dinner. I’ll send the cutter for you. I can’t give you a salute, Mr. Consul, +but you shall have all the side boys I can muster.” +</p> + +<p> +Those from the yacht parted from their consul in the most friendly spirit. +</p> + +<p> +“I think he’s charming!” exclaimed Miss Cairns. “And did you notice his novels? +They were in every language. It must be terribly lonely down here, for a man +like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s the first of our consuls we’ve met on this trip,” growled her father, +“that we’ve caught sober.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sober!” exclaimed his wife indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s one of the Marshalls of Vermont. I asked him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” mused Hanley, “how much the place is worth? Hamilton, one of the +new senators, has been deviling the life out of me to send his son somewhere. +Says if he stays in Washington he’ll disgrace the family. I should think this +place would drive any man to drink himself to death in three months, and young +Hamilton, from what I’ve seen of him, ought to be able to do it in a week. That +would leave the place open for the next man.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a postmaster in my State thinks he carried it.” The senator smiled +grimly. “He has consumption, and wants us to give him a consulship in the +tropics. I’ll tell him I’ve seen Porto Banos, and that it’s just the place for +him.” +</p> + +<p> +The senator’s pleasantry was not well received. But Miss Cairns alone had the +temerity to speak of what the others were thinking. +</p> + +<p> +“What would become of Mr. Marshall?” she asked. The senator smiled tolerantly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that I was thinking of Mr. Marshall,” he said. “I can’t recall +anything he has done for this administration. You see, Miss Cairns,” he +explained, in the tone of one addressing a small child, “Marshall has been +abroad now for forty years, at the expense of the taxpayers. Some of us think +men who have lived that long on their fellow-countrymen had better come home +and get to work.” +</p> + +<p> +Livingstone nodded solemnly in assent. He did not wish a post abroad at the +expense of the taxpayers. He was willing to pay for it. And then, with +“ex-Minister” on his visiting cards, and a sense of duty well performed, for +the rest of his life he could join the other expatriates in Paris. +</p> + +<p> +Just before dinner, the cruiser <i>Raleigh</i> having discovered the +whereabouts of the <i>Serapis</i> by wireless, entered the harbor, and Admiral +Hardy came to the yacht to call upon the senator, in whose behalf he had been +scouring the Caribbean Seas. Having paid his respects to that personage, the +admiral fell boisterously upon Marshall. +</p> + +<p> +The two old gentlemen were friends of many years. They had met, officially and +unofficially, in many strange parts of the world. To each the chance reunion +was a piece of tremendous good fortune. And throughout dinner the guests of +Livingstone, already bored with each other, found in them and their talk of +former days new and delightful entertainment. So much so that when, Marshall +having assured them that the local quarantine regulations did not extend to a +yacht, the men departed for Las Bocas, the women insisted that he and admiral +remain behind. +</p> + +<p> +It was for Marshall a wondrous evening. To foregather with his old friend whom +he had known since Hardy was a mad midshipman, to sit at the feet of his own +charming countrywomen, to listen to their soft, modulated laughter, to note how +quickly they saw that to him the evening was a great event, and with what tact +each contributed to make it the more memorable; all served to wipe out the +months of bitter loneliness, the stigma of failure, the sense of undeserved +neglect. In the moonlight, on the cool quarter-deck, they sat, in a +half-circle, each of the two friends telling tales out of school, tales of +which the other was the hero or the victim, “inside” stories of great +occasions, ceremonies, bombardments, unrecorded “shirt-sleeve” diplomacy. +</p> + +<p> +Hardy had helped to open the Suez Canal. Marshall had assisted the Queen of +Madagascar to escape from the French invaders. On the Barbary Coast Hardy had +chased pirates. In Edinburgh Marshall had played chess with Carlyle. He had +seen Paris in mourning in the days of the siege, Paris in terror in the days of +the Commune; he had known Garibaldi, Gambetta, the younger Dumas, the creator +of Pickwick. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember that time in Tangier,” the admiral urged, “when I was a +midshipman, and got into the bashaw’s harem?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember how I got you out?” Marshall replied grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“And,” demanded Hardy, “do you remember when Adelina Patti paid a visit to the +<i>Kearsarge</i> at Marseilles in ’65—George Dewey was our second officer—and +you were bowing and backing away from her, and you backed into an open hatch, +and she said ‘my French isn’t up to it’ what was it she said?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t hear it,” said Marshall; “I was too far down the hatch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean the old <i>Kearsarge?</i>” asked Mrs. Cairns. “Were you in the +service then, Mr. Marshall?” +</p> + +<p> +With loyal pride in his friend, the admiral answered for him: +</p> + +<p> +“He was our consul-general at Marseilles!” +</p> + +<p> +There was an uncomfortable moment. Even those denied imagination could not +escape the contrast, could see in their mind’s eye the great harbor of +Marseilles, crowded with the shipping of the world, surrounding it the +beautiful city, the rival of Paris to the north, and on the battleship the +young consul-general making his bow to the young Empress of Song. And now, +before their actual eyes, they saw the village of Porto Banos, a black streak +in the night, a row of mud shacks, at the end of the wharf a single lantern +yellow in the clear moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +Later in the evening Miss Cairns led the admiral to one side. +</p> + +<p> +“Admiral,” she began eagerly, “tell me about your friend. Why is he here? Why +don’t they give him a place worthy of him? I’ve seen many of our +representatives abroad, and I know we cannot afford to waste men like that.” +The girl exclaimed indignantly: “He’s one of the most interesting men I’ve ever +met! He’s lived everywhere, known every one. He’s a distinguished man, a +cultivated man; even I can see he knows his work, that he’s a diplomat, born, +trained, that he’s——” The admiral interrupted with a growl. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t have to tell <small>ME</small> about Henry,” he protested. “I’ve +known Henry twenty-five years. If Henry got his deserts,” he exclaimed hotly, +“he wouldn’t be a consul on this coral reef; he’d be a minister in Europe. Look +at me! We’re the same age. We started together. When Lincoln sent him to +Morocco as consul, he signed my commission as a midshipman. Now I’m an admiral. +Henry has twice my brains and he’s been a consul-general, and he’s <i>here</i>, +back at the foot of the ladder!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” demanded the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Because the navy is a service and the consular service isn’t a service. Men +like Senator Hanley use it to pay their debts. While Henry’s been serving his +country abroad, he’s lost his friends, lost his ‘pull.’ Those politicians up at +Washington have no use for him. They don’t consider that a consul like Henry +can make a million dollars for his countrymen. He can keep them from shipping +goods where there’s no market, show them where there is a market.” The admiral +snorted contemptuously. “You don’t have to tell <small>ME</small> the value of +a good consul. But those politicians don’t consider that. They only see that he +has a job worth a few hundred dollars, and they want it, and if he hasn’t other +politicians to protect him, they’ll take it.” The girl raised her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you speak to the senator?” she asked. “Tell him you’ve known him for +years, that——” +</p> + +<p> +“Glad to do it!” exclaimed the admiral heartily. “It won’t be the first time. +But Henry mustn’t know. He’s too confoundedly touchy. He hates the <i>idea</i> +of influence, hates men like Hanley, who abuse it. If he thought anything was +given to him except on his merits, he wouldn’t take it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we won’t tell him,” said the girl. For a moment she hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“If I spoke to Mr. Hanley,” she asked, “told him what I learned to-night of Mr. +Marshall, would it have any effect?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know how it will affect Hanley,” said the sailor, “but if you asked +<i>me</i> to make anybody a consul-general, I’d make him an ambassador.” +</p> + +<p> +Later in the evening Hanley and Livingstone were seated alone on deck. The +visit to Las Bocas had not proved amusing, but, much to Livingstone’s relief, +his honored guest was now in good-humor. He took his cigar from his lips, only +to sip at a long cool drink. He was in a mood flatteringly confidential and +communicative. +</p> + +<p> +“People have the strangest idea of what I can do for them,” he laughed. It was +his pose to pretend he was without authority. “They believe I’ve only to wave a +wand, and get them anything they want. I thought I’d be safe from them on board +a yacht.” +</p> + +<p> +Livingstone, in ignorance of what was coming, squirmed apprehensively. +</p> + +<p> +“But it seems,” the senator went on, “I’m at the mercy of a conspiracy. The +women folk want me to do something for this fellow Marshall. If they had their +way, they’d send him to the Court of St. James. And old Hardy, too, tackled me +about him. So did Miss Cairns. And then Marshall himself got me behind the +wheel-house, and I thought he was going to tell me how good he was, too! But he +didn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +As though the joke were on himself, the senator laughed appreciatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Told me, instead, that Hardy ought to be a vice-admiral.” +</p> + +<p> +Livingstone, also, laughed, with the satisfied air of one who cannot be +tricked. +</p> + +<p> +“They fixed it up between them,” he explained, “each was to put in a good word +for the other.” He nodded eagerly. “That’s what <i>I</i> think.” +</p> + +<p> +There were moments during the cruise when Senator Hanley would have found +relief in dropping his host overboard. With mock deference, the older man +inclined his head. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what <i>you</i> think, is it?” he asked. “Livingstone,” he added, “you +certainly are a great judge of men!” +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, old man Marshall woke with a lightness at his heart that had +been long absent. For a moment, conscious only that he was happy, he lay +between sleep and waking, frowning up at his canopy of mosquito net, trying to +realize what change had come to him. Then he remembered. His old friend had +returned. New friends had come into his life and welcomed him kindly. He was no +longer lonely. As eager as a boy, he ran to the window. He had not been +dreaming. In the harbor lay the pretty yacht, the stately, white-hulled +war-ship. The flag that drooped from the stern of each caused his throat to +tighten, brought warm tears to his eyes, fresh resolve to his discouraged, +troubled spirit. When he knelt beside his bed, his heart poured out his thanks +in gratitude and gladness. +</p> + +<p> +While he was dressing, a blue-jacket brought a note from the admiral. It +invited him to tea on board the war-ship, with the guests of the +<i>Serapis</i>. His old friend added that he was coming to lunch with his +consul, and wanted time reserved for a long talk. The consul agreed gladly. He +was in holiday humor. The day promised to repeat the good moments of the night +previous. +</p> + +<p> +At nine o’clock, through the open door of the consulate, Marshall saw Aiken, +the wireless operator, signaling from the wharf excitedly to the yacht, and a +boat leave the ship and return. Almost immediately the launch, carrying several +passengers, again made the trip shoreward. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later, Senator Hanley, Miss Cairns, and Livingstone came up the +waterfront, and entering the consulate, seated themselves around Marshall’s +desk. Livingstone was sunk in melancholy. The senator, on the contrary, was +smiling broadly. His manner was one of distinct relief. He greeted the consul +with hearty good-humor. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m ordered home!” he announced gleefully. Then, remembering the presence of +Livingstone, he hastened to add: “I needn’t say how sorry I am to give up my +yachting trip, but orders are orders. The President,” he explained to Marshall, +“cables me this morning to come back and take my coat off.” The prospect, as a +change from playing bridge on a pleasure boat, seemed far from depressing him. +</p> + +<p> +“Those filibusters in the Senate,” he continued genially, “are making trouble +again. They think they’ve got me out of the way for another month, but they’ll +find they’re wrong. When that bill comes up, they’ll find me at the old stand +and ready for business!” Marshall did not attempt to conceal his personal +disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +“I am so sorry you are leaving,” he said; “selfishly sorry, I mean. I’d hoped +you all would be here for several days.” He looked inquiringly toward +Livingstone. +</p> + +<p> +“I understood the <i>Serapis</i> was disabled,” he explained. +</p> + +<p> +“She is,” answered Hanley. “So’s the <i>Raleigh</i>. At a pinch, the admiral +might have stretched the regulations and carried me to Jamaica, but the +<i>Raleigh’s</i> engines are knocked about too. I’ve GOT to reach Kingston +Thursday. The German boat leaves there Thursday for New York. At first it +looked as though I couldn’t do it, but we find that the Royal Mail is due +to-day, and she can get to Kingston Wednesday night. It’s a great piece of +luck. I wouldn’t bother you with my troubles,” the senator explained +pleasantly, “but the agent of the Royal Mail here won’t sell me a ticket until +you’ve put your seal to this.” He extended a piece of printed paper. +</p> + +<p> +As Hanley had been talking, the face of the consul had grown grave. He accepted +the paper, but did not look at it. Instead, he regarded the senator with +troubled eyes. When he spoke, his tone was one of genuine concern. +</p> + +<p> +“It is most unfortunate,” he said. “But I am afraid the <i>Royal Mail</i> will +not take you on board. Because of Las Bocas,” he explained. “If we had only +known!” he added remorsefully. “It is <i>most</i> unfortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because of Las Bocas?” echoed Hanley. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean they’ll refuse to take me to Jamaica because I spent half an +hour at the end of a wharf listening to a squeaky gramophone?” +</p> + +<p> +“The trouble,” explained Marshall, “is this: if they carried you, all the other +passengers would be held in quarantine for ten days, and there are fines to +pay, and there would be difficulties over the mails. But,” he added hopefully, +“maybe the regulations have been altered. I will see her captain, and tell +him——” +</p> + +<p> +“See her captain!” objected Hanley. “Why see the captain? He doesn’t know I’ve +been to that place. Why tell <i>him?</i> All I need is a clean bill of health +from you. That’s all <small>HE</small> wants. You have only to sign that +paper.” Marshall regarded the senator with surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“But I can’t,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t? Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because it certifies to the fact that you have not visited Las Bocas. +Unfortunately, you have visited Las Bocas.” +</p> + +<p> +The senator had been walking up and down the room. Now he seated himself, and +stared at Marshall curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s like this, Mr. Marshall,” he began quietly. “The President desires my +presence in Washington, thinks I can be of some use to him there in helping +carry out certain party measures—measures to which he pledged himself before +his election. Down here, a British steamship line has laid down local rules +which, in my case anyway, are ridiculous. The question is, are you going to be +bound by the red tape of a ha’penny British colony, or by your oath to the +President of the United States?” +</p> + +<p> +The sophistry amused Marshall. He smiled good-naturedly and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid, Senator,” he said, “that way of putting it is hardly fair. +Unfortunately, the question is one of fact. I will explain to the captain——” +</p> + +<p> +“You will explain nothing to the captain!” interrupted Hanley. “This is a +matter which concerns no one but our two selves. I am not asking favors of +steamboat captains. I am asking an American consul to assist an American +citizen in trouble, and,” he added, with heavy sarcasm, “incidentally, to carry +out the wishes of his President.” +</p> + +<p> +Marshall regarded the senator with an expression of both surprise and +disbelief. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you asking me to put my name to what is not so?” he said. “Are you +serious?” +</p> + +<p> +“That paper, Mr. Marshall,” returned Hanley steadily, “is a mere form, a piece +of red tape. There’s no more danger of my carrying the plague to Jamaica than +of my carrying a dynamite bomb. You <i>know</i> that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I <i>do</i> know that,” assented Marshall heartily. “I appreciate your +position, and I regret it exceedingly. You are the innocent victim of a +regulation which is a wise regulation, but which is most unfair to you. My own +position,” he added, “is not important, but you can believe me, it is not easy. +It is certainly no pleasure for me to be unable to help you.” +</p> + +<p> +Hanley was leaning forward, his hands on his knees, his eyes watching Marshall +closely. “Then you refuse?” he said. “Why?” +</p> + +<p> +Marshall regarded the senator steadily. His manner was untroubled. The look he +turned upon Hanley was one of grave disapproval. +</p> + +<p> +“You know why,” he answered quietly. “It is impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +In sudden anger Hanley rose. Marshall, who had been seated behind his desk, +also rose. For a moment, in silence, the two men confronted each other. Then +Hanley spoke; his tone was harsh and threatening. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am to understand,” he exclaimed, “that you refuse to carry out the +wishes of a United States Senator and of the President of the United States?” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/img01.jpg" width="519" height="600" alt="[Illustration]" /> +<p class="caption">“Then I am to understand,” he exclaimed, “that you refuse to carry out the +wishes of a United States Senator and of the President of the United States?”</p> +</div> + +<p> +In front of Marshall, on his desk, was the little iron stamp of the consulate. +Protectingly, almost caressingly, he laid his hand upon it. +</p> + +<p> +“I refuse,” he corrected, “to place the seal of this consulate on a lie.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment’s pause. Miss Cairns, unwilling to remain, and unable to +withdraw, clasped her hands unhappily and stared at the floor. Livingstone +exclaimed in indignant protest. Hanley moved a step nearer and, to emphasize +what he said, tapped his knuckles on the desk. With the air of one confident of +his advantage, he spoke slowly and softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you appreciate,” he asked, “that, while you may be of some importance down +here in this fever swamp, in Washington I am supposed to carry some weight? Do +you appreciate that I am a senator from a State that numbers four millions of +people, and that you are preventing me from serving those people?” Marshall +inclined his head gravely and politely. +</p> + +<p> +“And I want you to appreciate,” he said, “that while I have no weight at +Washington, in this fever swamp I have the honor to represent eighty millions +of people, and as long as that consular sign is over my door I don’t intend to +prostitute it for <i>you</i>, or the President of the United States, or any one +of those eighty millions.” +</p> + +<p> +Of the two men, the first to lower his eyes was Hanley. He laughed shortly, and +walked to the door. There he turned, and indifferently, as though the incident +no longer interested him, drew out his watch. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Marshall,” he said, “if the cable is working, I’ll take your tin sign away +from you by sunset.” +</p> + +<p> +For one of Marshall’s traditions, to such a speech there was no answer save +silence. He bowed, and, apparently serene and undismayed, resumed his seat. +From the contest, judging from the manner of each, it was Marshall, not Hanley, +who had emerged victorious. +</p> + +<p> +But Miss Cairns was not deceived. Under the unexpected blow, Marshall had +turned older. His clear blue eyes had grown less alert, his broad shoulders +seemed to stoop. In sympathy, her own eyes filled with sudden tears. +</p> + +<p> +“What will you do?” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what I shall do,” said Marshall simply. “I should have liked to +have resigned. It’s a prettier finish. After forty years—to be dismissed by +cable is—it’s a poor way of ending it.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Cairns rose and walked to the door. There she turned and looked back. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry,” she said. And both understood that in saying no more than that +she had best shown her sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +An hour later the sympathy of Admiral Hardy was expressed more directly. +</p> + +<p> +“If he comes on board my ship,” roared that gentleman, “I’ll push him down an +ammunition hoist and break his damned neck!” +</p> + +<p> +Marshall laughed delightedly. The loyalty of his old friend was never so +welcome. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll treat him with every courtesy,” he said. “The only satisfaction he gets +out of this is to see that he has hurt me. We will not give him that +satisfaction.” +</p> + +<p> +But Marshall found that to conceal his wound was more difficult than he had +anticipated. When, at tea time, on the deck of the war-ship, he again met +Senator Hanley and the guests of the <i>Serapis</i>, he could not forget that +his career had come to an end. There was much to remind him that this was so. +He was made aware of it by the sad, sympathetic glances of the women; by their +tactful courtesies; by the fact that Livingstone, anxious to propitiate Hanley, +treated him rudely; by the sight of the young officers, each just starting upon +a career of honor, and possible glory, as his career ended in humiliation; and +by the big war-ship herself, that recalled certain crises when he had only to +press a button and war-ships had come at his bidding. +</p> + +<p> +At five o’clock there was an awkward moment. The Royal Mail boat, having taken +on her cargo, passed out of the harbor on her way to Jamaica, and dipped her +colors. Senator Hanley, abandoned to his fate, observed her departure in +silence. +</p> + +<p> +Livingstone, hovering at his side, asked sympathetically: “Have they answered +your cable, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“They have,” said Hanley gruffly. +</p> + +<p> +“Was it—was it satisfactory?” pursued the diplomat. +</p> + +<p> +“It <i>was</i>,” said the senator, with emphasis. +</p> + +<p> +Far from discouraged, Livingstone continued his inquiries. +</p> + +<p> +“And when,” he asked eagerly, “are you going to tell him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now!” said the senator. +</p> + +<p> +The guests were leaving the ship. When all were seated in the admiral’s steam +launch, the admiral descended the accommodation ladder and himself picked up +the tiller ropes. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Marshall,” he called, “when I bring the launch broadside to the ship and +stop her, you will stand ready to receive the consul’s salute.” +</p> + +<p> +Involuntarily, Marshall uttered an exclamation of protest. He had forgotten +that on leaving the war-ship, as consul, he was entitled to seven guns. Had he +remembered, he would have insisted that the ceremony be omitted. He knew that +the admiral wished to show his loyalty, knew that his old friend was now paying +him this honor only as a rebuke to Hanley. But the ceremony was no longer an +honor. Hanley had made of it a mockery. It served only to emphasize what had +been taken from him. But, without a scene, it now was too late to avoid it. The +first of the seven guns had roared from the bow, and, as often he had stood +before, as never he would so stand again, Marshall took his place at the +gangway of the launch. His eyes were fixed on the flag, his gray head was +uncovered, his hat was pressed above his heart. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time since Hanley had left the consulate, he fell into sudden +terror lest he might give way to his emotions. Indignant at the thought, he +held himself erect. His face was set like a mask, his eyes were untroubled. He +was determined they should not see that he was suffering. +</p> + +<p> +Another gun spat out a burst of white smoke, a stab of flame. There was an +echoing roar. Another and another followed. Marshall counted seven, and then, +with a bow to the admiral, backed from the gangway. +</p> + +<p> +And then another gun shattered the hot, heavy silence. Marshall, confused, +embarrassed, assuming he had counted wrong, hastily returned to his place. But +again before he could leave it, in savage haste a ninth gun roared out its +greeting. He could not still be mistaken. He turned appealingly to his friend. +The eyes of the admiral were fixed upon the war-ship. Again a gun shattered the +silence. Was it a jest? Were they laughing at him? Marshall flushed miserably. +He gave a swift glance toward the others. They were smiling. Then it <i>was</i> +a jest. Behind his back, something of which they all were cognizant was going +forward. The face of Livingstone alone betrayed a like bewilderment to his own. +But the others, who knew, were mocking him. +</p> + +<p> +For the thirteenth time a gun shook the brooding swamp land of Porto Banos. And +then, and not until then, did the flag crawl slowly from the mast-head. Mary +Cairns broke the tenseness by bursting into tears. But Marshall saw that every +one else, save she and Livingstone, were still smiling. Even the bluejackets in +charge of the launch were grinning at him. He was beset by smiling faces. And +then from the war-ship, unchecked, came, against all regulations, three long, +splendid cheers. +</p> + +<p> +Marshall felt his lips quivering, the warm tears forcing their way to his eyes. +He turned beseechingly to his friend. His voice trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“Charles,” he begged, “are they laughing at me?” +</p> + +<p> +Eagerly, before the other would answer, Senator Hanley tossed his cigar into +the water and, scrambling forward, seized Marshall by the hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Marshall,” he cried, “our President has great faith in Abraham Lincoln’s +judgment of men. And this salute means that this morning he appointed you our +new minister to The Hague. I’m one of those politicians who keeps his word. I +<i>told</i> you I’d take your tin sign away from you by sunset. I’ve done it!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONSUL ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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