The Flag Paramount
At the head of the insurgent party appeared that Hector and learnedTheban of the southern republics, Don Sabas Placido. A traveller,a soldier, a poet, a scientist, a statesman and a connoisseur--thewonder was that he could content himself with the petty, remote lifeof his native country.
"It is a whim of Placido's," said a friend who knew him well,"to take up political intrigue. It is not otherwise than as if hehad come upon a new tempo in music, a new bacillus in the air, a newscent, or rhyme, or explosive. He will squeeze this revolution dryof sensations, and a week afterward will forget it, skimming the seasof the world in his brigantine to add to his already world-famouscollections. Collections of what? ~Por Dios~! of everything frompostage stamps to prehistoric stone idols."
But, for a mere dilettante, the aesthetic Placido seemed to becreating a lively row. The people admired him; they were fascinatedby his brilliancy and flattered by his taking an interest in so smalla thing as his native country. They rallied to the call of hislieutenants in the capital, where (somewhat contrary to arrangements)the army remained faithful to the government. There was also livelyskirmishing in the coast towns. It was rumored that the revolutionwas aided by the Vesuvius Fruit Company, the power that forever stoodwith chiding smile and uplifted finger to keep Anchuria in the classof good children. Two of its steamers, the ~Traveler~ and the~Salvador~, were known to have conveyed insurgent troops from pointto point along the coast.
As yet there had been no actual uprising in Coralio. Military lawprevailed, and the ferment was bottled for the time. And then camethe word that everywhere the revolutionists were encountering defeat.In the capital the president's forces triumphed; and there was a rumorthat the leaders of the revolt had been forced to fly, hotly pursued.
In the little telegraph office at Coralio there was alwaysa gathering of officials and loyal citizens, awaiting news fromthe seat of government. One morning the telegraph key began clicking,and presently the operator called, loudly: "One telegram for~el Almirante~, Don Senor Felipe Carrera!"
There was a shuffling sound, a great rattling of tin scabbard, andthe admiral, prompt at his spot of waiting, leaped across the roomto receive it.
The message was handed to him. Slowly spelling it out, he found itto be his first official order--thus running:
"Proceed immediately with your vessel to mouth of Rio Ruiz;transport beef and provisions to barracks at Alforan.~Martinez, General.~"
Small glory, to be sure, in this, his country's first call. Butit had called, and joy surged in the admiral's breast. He drew hiscutlass belt to another buckle hole, roused his dozing crew, and ina quarter of an hour ~El Nacional~ was tacking swiftly down coast ina stiff landward breeze.
The Rio Ruiz is a small river, emptying into the sea ten miles belowCoralio. That portion of the coast is wild and solitary. Througha gorge in the Cordilleras rushes the Rio Ruiz, cold and bubbling,to glide at last, with breadth and leisure, through an alluvial morassinto the sea.
In two hours ~El Nacional~ entered the river's mouth. The bankswere crowded with a disposition of formidable trees. The sumptuousundergrowth of the tropics overflowed the land, and drowned itselfin the fallow waters.
Silently the sloop entered there, and met a deeper silence. Brilliantwith greens and ochres and floral, scarlets, the umbrageous mouthof the Rio Ruiz furnished no sound or movement save of the sea-goingwater as it purled against the prow of the vessel. Small chance thereseemed of wresting beef or provisions from that empty solitude.
The admiral decided to cast anchor, and, at the chain's rattle,the forest was stimulated to instant and resounding uproar. The mouthof the Rio Ruiz had only been taking a morning nap. Parrots andbaboons screeched and barked in the trees; a whirring and a hissingand a booming marked the awakening of animal life; a dark blue bulkwas visible for an instant, as a startled tapir fought his way throughthe vines.
The navy, under orders, hung in the mouth of the little river forhours. The crew served the dinner of shark's fin soup, plantains,crab gumbo and sour wine. The admiral, with a three-foot telescope,closely scanned the impervious foliage fifty yards away.
It was nearly sunset when a reverberating "hal-lo-o-o!" came fromthe forest to their left. It was answered; and three men, mountedupon mules, crashed through the tropic tangle to within a dozen yardsof the river's bank. There they dismounted; and one, unbucklinghis belt, struck each mule a violent blow with his sword scabbard,so that they, with a fling of heels, dashed back again intothe forest.
Those were strange-looking men to be conveying beef and provisions.One was a large and exceedingly active man, of striking presence. Hewas of the purest Spanish type, with curling, gray-besprinkled, darkhair, blue, sparkling eyes, and the pronounced air of a ~caballerogrande~. The other two were small, brown-faced men, wearing whitemilitary uniforms, high riding boots and swords. The clothes of allwere drenched, bespattered and rent by the thicket. Some stress ofcircumstance must have driven them, ~diable a quatre~, through flood,mire and jungle.
"~O-he! Senor Almirante~," called the large man. "Send to us yourboat."
The dory was lowered, and Felipe, with one of the Caribs, rowed towardthe left bank.
The large man stood near the water's brink, waist deep in the curlingvines. As he gazed upon the scarecrow figure in the stern of the dorya sprightly interest beamed upon his mobile face.
Months of wageless and thankless service had dimmed the admiral'ssplendor. His red trousers were patched and ragged. Most of thebright buttons and yellow braid were gone from his jacket. The visorof his cap was torn, and depended almost to his eyes. The admiral'sfeet were bare.
"Dear Admiral," cried the large man, and his voice was like a blastfrom a horn, "I kiss your hands. I knew we could build upon yourfidelity. You had our despatch--from General Martinez. A littlenearer with your boat, dear Admiral. Upon these devils of shiftingvines we stand with the smallest security."
Felipe regarded him with a stolid face.
"Provisions and beef for the barracks at Alforan," he quoted.
"No fault of the butchers, ~Almirante mio~, that the beef awaits younot. But you are come in time to save the cattle. Get us aboard yourvessel, senor, at once. You first, ~caballeros--a priesa!~ Come backfor me. The boat is too small."
The dory conveyed the two officers to the sloop, and returned forthe large man.
"Have you so gross a thing as food, good Admiral?" he cried, whenaboard. "And, perhaps, coffee? Beef and provisions! ~Nombre deDios!~ a little longer and we could have eaten one of those mules thatyou, Colonel Rafael, saluted so feelingly with your sword scabbard atparting. Let us have food; and then we will sail--for the barracksat Alforan--no?"
The Caribs prepared a meal, to which the three passengers of ~ElNacional~ set themselves with famished delight. About sunset, as wasits custom, the breeze veered and swept back from the mountains, cooland steady, bringing a taste of the stagnant lagoons and mangroveswamps that guttered the lowlands. The mainsail of the sloop washoisted and swelled to it, and at that moment they heard shouts anda waxing clamor from the bosky profundities of the shore.
"The butchers, my dear Admiral," said the large man, smiling, "toolate for the slaughter."
Further than his orders to his crew, the admiral was saying nothing.The topsail and jib were spread, and the sloop elided out of theestuary. The large man and his companions had bestowed themselveswith what comfort they could about the bare deck. Belike, the thingbig in their minds had been their departure from that critical shore;and now that the hazard was so far reduced their thoughts were loosedto the consideration of further deliverance. But when they saw thesloop turn and fly up coast again they relaxed, satisfied with thecourse the admiral had taken.
The large man sat at ease, his spirited blue eye engaged inthe contemplation of the navy's commander. He was trying to estimatethis sombre and fantastic lad, whose impenetrable stolidity puzzledhim. Himself a fugitive, his life sought, and chafing under the smartof defeat and failure, it was characteristic of him to transferinstantly his interest to the study of a thing new to him. It waslike him, too, to have conceived and risked all upon this lastdesperate and madcap scheme--this message to a poor, crazed ~fanatico~cruising about with his grotesque uniform and his farcical title.But his companions had been at their wits' end; escape had seemedincredible; and now he was pleased with the success of the plan theyhad called crack-brained and precarious.
The brief, tropic twilight seemed to slide swiftly into the pearlysplendor of a moonlit night. And now the lights of Coralio appeared,distributed against the darkening shore to their right. The admiralstood, silent, at the tiller; the Caribs, like black panthers, heldthe sheets, leaping noiselessly at his short commands. The threepassengers were watching intently the sea before them, and when atlength they came in sight of the bulk of a steamer lying a mile outfrom the town, with her lights radiating deep into the water, theyheld a sudden voluble and close-headed converse. The sloop wasspeeding as if to strike midway between ship and shore.
The large man suddenly separated from his companions and approachedthe scarecrow at the helm.
"My dear Admiral," he said, "the government has been exceedinglyremiss. I feel all the shame for it that only its ignorance of yourdevoted service has prevented it from sustaining. An inexcusableoversight has been made. A vessel, a uniform and a crew worthyof your fidelity shall be furnished you. But just now, dear Admiral,there is business of moment afoot. The steamer lying there is the~Salvador~. I and my friends desire to be conveyed to her, where weare sent on the government's business. Do us the favor to shape yourcourse accordingly."
Without replying, the admiral gave a sharp command, and put the tillerhard to port. ~El Nacional~ swerved, and headed straight as anarrow's course for the shore.
"Do me the favor," said the large man, a trifle restively,"to acknowledge, at least, that you catch the sound of my words."It was possible that the fellow might be lacking in senses as wellas intellect.
The admiral emitted a croaking, harsh laugh, and spake.
"They will stand you," he said, "with your face to a wall and shootyou dead. That is the way they kill traitors. I knew you when youstepped into my boat. I have seen your picture in a book. You areSabas Placido, traitor to your country. With your face to a wall.So, you will die. I am the admiral, and I will take you to them.With your face to a wall. Yes."
Don Sabas half turned and waved his hand, with a ringing laugh,toward his fellow fugitives. "To you, ~caballeros~, I have relatedthe history of that session when we issued that 0! so ridiculouscommission. Of a truth our jest has been turned against us. Beholdthe Frankenstein's monster we have created!"
Don Sabas glanced toward the shore. The lights of Coralio weredrawing near. He could see the beach, the warehouse of the ~BodegaNacional~, the long, low ~cuartel~ occupied by the soldiers, andbehind that, gleaming in the moonlight, a stretch of high adobe wall.He had seen men stood with their faces to that wall and shot dead.
Again he addressed the extravagant figure at the helm.
"It is true," he said, "that I am fleeing the country. But, receivethe assurance that I care very little for that. Courts and campseverywhere are open to Sabas Placido. ~Vaya!~ what is this molehillof a republic--this pig's head of a country--to a man like me? I ama ~paisano~ of everywhere. In Rome, in London, in Paris, in Vienna,you will hear them say: 'Welcome back, Don Sabas.' Comebaboon of a boy--admiral, whatever you call yourself, turn your boat.Put us on board the ~Salvador~, and here is your pay--five hundredpesos in money of the ~Estados Unidos~--more than your lyinggovernment will pay you in twenty years."
Don Sabas pressed a plump purse against the youth's hand. The admiralgave no heed to the words or the movement. Braced against the helm,he was holding the sloop dead on her shoreward course. His dull facewas lit almost to intelligence by some inward conceit that seemed toafford him joy, and found utterance in another parrot-like cackle.
"That is why they do it," he said--"so that you will not see the guns.They fire--boom!--and you fall dead. With your face to the wall.Yes."
The admiral called a sudden order to his crew. The lithe, silentCaribs made fast the sheets they held, and slipped down the hatchwayinto the hold of the sloop. When the last one had disappeared, DonSabas, like a big, brown leopard, leaped forward, closed and fastenedthe hatch and stood, smiling.
"No rifles, if you please, dear admiral," he said. "It was a whimseyof mine once to compile a dictionary of the Carib ~lengua~. So,I understood your order. Perhaps now you will--"
He cut short his words, for he heard the dull "swish" of iron scrapingalong tin. The admiral had drawn the cutlass of Pedro Lafitte,and was darting upon him. The blade descended, and it was only bya display of surprising agility that the large man escaped, with onlya bruised shoulder, the glancing weapon. He was drawing his pistolas he sprang, and the next instant he shot the admiral down.
Don Sabas stooped over him, and rose again.
"In the heart," he said briefly. "~Senores~, the navy is abolished."
Colonel Rafael sprang to the helm, and the other officer hastened toloose the mainsail sheets. The boom swung round; ~El Nacional~ veeredand began to tack industriously for the ~Salvador~.
"Strike that flag, senor," called Colonel Rafael. "Our friends onthe steamer will wonder why we are sailing under it."
"Well said," cried Don Sabas. Advancing to the mast he lowered theflag to the deck, where lay its too loyal supporter. Thus ended theMinister of War's little piece of after-dinner drollery, and by thesame hand that began it.
Suddenly Don Sabas gave a great cry of joy, and ran down the slantingdeck to the side of Colonel Rafael. Across his arm he carried theflag of the extinguished navy.
"~Mire! mire! senor. Ah, ~Dios!~ Already can I hear that great bearof an Oestreicher~ shout, ~'Du hast mein herz gebrochen!' Mire!~Of my friend, Herr Grunitz, of Vienna, you have heard me relate.That man has travelled to Ceylon for an orchid--to Patagonia fora headdress --to Benares for a slipper--to Mozambique for a spearheadto add to his famous collections. Thou knowest, also, ~amigo~ Rafael,that I have been a gatherer of curios. My collection of battle flagsof the world's navies was the most complete in existence until lastyear. Then Herr Grunitz secured two, 0! such rare specimens. Oneof a Barberry state, and one of the Makarooroos, a tribe on the westcoast of Africa. I have not those, but they can be procured. Butthis flag, senor--do you know what it is? Name of God! do you know?See that red cross upon the blue and white ground! You never sawit before? ~Seguramente no~. It is the naval flag of your country.~Mire!~ This rotten tub we stand upon is its navy--that dead cockatoolying there was its commander--that stroke of cutlass and singlepistol shot a sea battle. All a piece of absurd foolery, I grant you--but authentic. There has never been another flag like this, andthere never will be another. No. It is unique in the whole world.Yes. Think of what that means to a collector of flags! Do you know,~Coronel mio~, how many golden crowns Herr Grunitz would give for thisflag? Ten thousand, likely. Well, a hundred thousand would not buyit. Beautiful flag! Only flag! Little devil of a most heaven-bornflag! ~O'he!~ old grumbler beyond the ocean. Wait till Don Sabascomes again to the Konigin Strasse. He will let you kneel and touchthe folds of it with one finger. ~O-he!~ old spectacled ransackerof the world!"
Forgotten was the impotent revolution, the danger, the loss, the gallof defeat. Possessed solely by the inordinate and unparalleledpassion of the collector, he strode up and down the little deck,clasping to his breast with one hand the paragon of a flag. Hesnapped his fingers triumphantly toward the east. He shouted thepaean to his prize in trumpet tones, as though he would make oldGrunitz hear in his musty den beyond the sea.
They were waiting, on the ~Salvador~, to welcome them. The sloop cameclose alongside the steamer where her sides were sliced almost to thelower deck for the loading of fruit. The sailors of the ~Salvador~grappled and held her there.
Captain McLeod leaned over the side.
"Well, ~senor~, the jig is up, I'm told."
"The jig is up?" Don Sabas looked perplexed for a moment. "Thatrevolution--ah, yes!" With a shrug of his shoulders he dismissedthe matter.
The captain learned of the escape and the imprisoned crew.
"Caribs!" he said; "no harm in them." He slipped down into the sloopand kicked loose the hasp of the hatch. The black fellows cametumbling up, sweating but grinning.
"Hey! black boys!" said the captain, in a dialect of his own; "yousabe, catchy boat and vamos back same place quick."
They saw him point to themselves, the sloop and Coralio. "Yas, yas!"they cried, with broader grins and many nods.
The four--Don Sabas, the two officers and the captain--moved to quitthe sloop. Don Sabas lagged a little behind, looking at the stillform of the late admiral, sprawled in his paltry trappings.
"~Pobrecito loco~," he said softly.
He was a brilliant cosmopolite and a ~cognoscente~ of high rank;but, after all, he was of the same race and blood and instinct asthis people. Even as the simple ~paisanos~ of Coralio had said it,so said Don Sabas. Without a smile, he looked, and said, "The poorlittle crazed one!"
Stooping he raised the limp shoulders, drew the priceless andinduplicable flag under them and over the breast, pinning it therewith the diamond star of the Order of San Carlos that he took fromthe collar of his own coat.
He followed after the others, and stood with them upon the deck ofthe ~Salvador~. The sailors that steadied ~El Nacional~ shoved heroff. The jabbering Caribs hauled away at the rigging; the sloopheaded for the shore.
And Herr Grunitz's collection of naval flags was still the finestin the world.
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