Part 7

“I’d better tell her what sort of a complected man I am whilst I’m about it,” so he wrote, “dark-complected, with blue eyes an’ fair skin.” “Me hair is turnin’ fast,” said he to himself, as he gazed at his reflection in the looking-glass, “but,” he added, “if she objects, a bit of dye will fix that all right.” He told her that it would be six months before he would be able to procure “married quarters,” and he advised her to go to school where English was being taught so that she might be able to converse with him should she decide to accept him as her future husband. “An’ bedad! I haven’t been with the Jews in Chicago for nothing,” said the scheming wooer, “an’ me plan ought to be to ask her to give me the address of the schoolmaster, an’ I’ll send the old blaguard the money in checks. Thin I’ll have a hold upon the creature in case she has some young lads to meet her. Shure a man can never be after thinkin’ what a young heifer might be havin’ in her mind.” At length the letter was finished and was duly dispatched to the waiting Hulda. There was a clipping enclosed which read that Brian Boru Vickingstadt had lectured to a large audience on the Panama Canal at Hoboken, N. J. There was a postscript added, to the effect that the writer wished to communicate with the mother of the fair Hulda. That he had persuasive powers may be inferred from the fact that Hulda’s mother answered the letter as soon as it was received. The schoolmaster wrote that Hulda could begin her studies at once, and that great pains would be taken to fit her to become the wife of so prominent a person as the “architect of the Canal Zone.” There was a picture of the girl included.

“I like the man already,” said Hulda’s mother. “He is too old,” said Hulda. “Just think, thirty-four, while I am only twenty.” “It is the right age, just,” said the mother. “The husband should have the age already when the wife is that young and foolish like you are.” Hulda, however, had sent her picture and a long letter to another applicant. He wrote that he was a farmer, and lived near Montclair, N. J.; that he had one thousand dollars saved, was twenty-six years old, sober, and a church member.

After some weeks the schoolmaster received twenty-five dollars from the “architect of the Canal Zone” for Hulda’s instruction, and Hulda’s mother received a sum of money, all of which was duly acknowledged in the most legal manner on legal-looking paper. Now the Vickingstadt exulted in having won the prize. He took the girl’s picture and visited the places where “the boys” were in the habit of assembling. “What do ye think of that for a colleen?” asked he of one and all. “By Jove, she is a perfect Juno,” said one. “Say! she’s all right; a good-looker, and some style,” spoke up another. “Where did you pick it up?” queried a third. “That picture does not belong to none of your relatives,” another boldly asserted, “she’s too refined-lookin’.” “Divil a bit,” acknowledged the “architect;” she’s the gurrl I’m goin’ to marry whin I go on me vacation in September. Shure, that’s why I come across the Isthmus. I’m gittin’ a house here to bring me bride to.” “How could an old mug like you get a good-looker like that to marry you? ‘Mickey Vickins’ is a romancer,” declared one of the highbrows. “That must be the picture of some young lady in whose family he worked when he first came from Ireland,” spoke up another highbrow. And so the matter furnished food for discussion for some time. The “architect” was now living at Cristobal, where he had an extensive acquaintance among “the boys.” He knew every one of the dry-dock gang by name, and to each one in turn he showed the picture of the fair Hulda. The members of the dry-dock gang became greatly interested in the Vickingstadt’s wooing, and discussed the affair among themselves in the following manner: “‘Mickey Vickins’ is goin’ to be married, all right.” “Shure thing; got his name in for married quarters! An’ say, she shure is a peach.” “Yes, he’ll bring some old biddy down with him from New York. No one else would marry an old mutt like him.” “He stole that picture from one of them penpushers that he used to room with over at Ancon,” etc., etc.

Meanwhile the “architect” winked foxily and tucked away the letters from Hulda’s mother and the schoolmaster with his choicest treasures, which consisted of his discharge from the United States Army and his correspondence school diploma. Unknown to her mother, Hulda received money from two other men, which she acknowledged in the following manner:

“I received your letter and its contents. I long to see you. I know I shall love you, and I hope to make you a good wife. Good night, sweetheart.”

She had a dream of her landing at New York that was very rosy. She decided to have her three lovers meet her at the dock; she could then pick out the one she liked best, and say “Guten nacht” to the others. She did not know, poor girl, with what she would have to contend on arriving in the “land of the free and home of the brave.” Neither did two of the applicants for her hand. The Vickingstadt knew, however, from past experience, and he said to himself: “I’m goin’ about it in the right way, for many’s the young heifer from the ould dart I’ve helped to get out of the pin on Ellis Island.”

THE CANAL ZONE ARCHITECT’S WEDDING.

(PART II.)

When the big liner docked which brought Hulda from the port of Hamburg one might have seen three anxious-looking men standing on the pier. Hulda had been the pet of the ship during the trip. She booked a passage second class, but, because of her good looks and varied accomplishments, she was invited to the saloon to play and sing. There was a halo of romance about her, as she was on her way to New York to become a bride, and it was said that a young scion of a wealthy family or board had fallen desperately in love with her--a circumstance which greatly enhanced her importance in the minds of the other passengers.

Hulda appeared on the dock a few minutes after the big steamer had tied up, with two trunks filled to overflowing with finery and $8 in her pocket-book. Like the majority of the fair sex, Hulda, when questioned by the immigration inspector, fibbed about her age, saying she was but 17, instead of 20. This at once led to complications, for, when two of her lovers lined up to claim her, each was confronted with a grave problem. Neither of them knew how to get a 17-year-old girl past the immigration authorities. The farmer from New Jersey was first to assert his claim to the fair Hulda, but he did not come prepared to have the knot tied; he brought no aged mother or aunt, so his claim was disregarded. He shook his head sadly and said, “Well, here’s where I’m out $284, but perhaps ’tis just as well, for I think she is a little too fine for a farm in Jersey, anyhow.”

The next applicant, a Southern gentleman from Savannah, now stepped forward. He showed many letters he had received from Hulda and displayed an earnestness, too, which would have helped him anywhere in the world except on that pier. It was evident that Hulda admired him greatly, and when he told the interpreter he had property which had been valued for taxes at $60,000 it was with difficulty that the girl could keep herself from running into his arms. But he was obliged to leave without her, and Ellis Island stared her in the face.

It was at this juncture that the “architect of the Canal Zone” came forward to claim her. “I think this young lady belongs to me,” he told the immigration inspector, with a thin little smile. “I have been taking an interest in her for several months, and I’ve her mother’s consent to marry her.” The papers were carefully examined, and the interpreter told Hulda that this was the man who had the proper claim upon her. “According to your mother’s letters,” he said, “he is your guardian, and if you do not marry him he has the right to send you back to Germany.”

“Gott in Himmel! I must go back now?” said poor Hulda, bursting into tears.

“The neighbors would say that the man in New York didn’t like you and turned you down,” said the wily interpreter, “so if I were you I’d stay and marry this nice, clean-looking old man. He has a good position down where the Americans are digging the canal, and I bet you he has plenty of money. Get some of it away from him, and in a few weeks, if you want to, you can get a divorce. Over here in America, if a man and his wife can’t agree, they go to a judge and get a divorce.”

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Hulda, her face brightening, “I’ll go up to the big city of New York with him and will then run away.”

“Oh, but you will have to marry him right here in the presence of these men, and I shall have to stay and interpret the ceremony.”

During this conversation the “architect” stood apart, quietly awaiting the verdict. There were many interested spectators, who gazed admiringly upon the graceful girl and wondered what it was all about.

Hulda wept copiously, and, the heart of the Vickingstadt being touched, he made an attempt to console her, saying, “Darling thrish, I’ll make you happy. I’ll give you jewels and laces galore. What makes you take on so?”

“Go away, you old devil,” said Hulda. “If you attempt to kiss me I’ll jump into the water.”

“The Lord be praised and glorified,” ejaculated the Vickingstadt, taken all aback. “Is that the English that was taught you by the blaguard schoolmaster, after me payin’ me good money for you?”

Hulda, red in the face, showed plainly that the fighting blood of the Schneiders was up. The interpreter interposed and said to Hulda, “You must smile and look pleased, or you will be sent back. The minister is waiting, and you will have to look as if you were tickled to death over it.”

Thereupon he took Hulda by the arm and led her to where the “architect” stood with the Lutheran clergyman.

“Shall I have to say to him I love him?” queried Hulda of the interpreter.

“You sure will,” was the rejoinder.

“I can’t,” said Hulda, “it will be a lie; I hate him already,” she added desperately.

In the end, however, they were married, and in accordance with the rites of the Lutheran Church, to which Hulda belonged.

It will have been noticed that she did not like to swear to a lie, which was a point in her favor. It will also be seen that the holy institution of matrimony was being used for fraudulent purposes. If it had been the United States mail that had been used in a like manner Hulda, the “architect,” the interpreter and all concerned would have been found guilty of a misdemeanor, and the immigration authorities would have had to account for compounding a felony. Both of the contracting parties swore to unseeming lies, and the Lord’s anointed was in attendance to see that no word was left out or substituted to make the lies less patent. The bridegroom swore to endow Hulda with all his worldly goods, when, as a matter of fact, he only intended to give her a few dollars now and then. The bride swore, between sobs, that she would love, honor and obey her husband until death should them part, notwithstanding that the uppermost thought in her mind was to run away from him as soon as she should enter the city. Hulda’s feelings can better be imagined than described when the final words were said. She was married according to the laws of the universe and to the satisfaction of the immigration authorities.

It is certain that fate plays strange pranks with some people, for, no sooner than Hulda and the Vickingstadt had been pronounced man and wife, than there appeared on the scene the man from Savannah, accompanied by two prominent New Yorkers and the German Consul.

“Too late,” said a bystander.

“That’s a damn shame,” said a sailor, who had witnessed the whole tragedy.

Hulda was so overwhelmed by the turn of events that when she saw her true beloved return she ran to him, clasped him about the neck and then fainted. The young man naturally looked embarrassed, but he, with others, assisted her to regain consciousness. The bridegroom adopted a martyr-like pose, and when the girl had recovered sufficiently to sit in a chair he addressed the interpreter as follows:

“Tell that crazy gurl that it is a very ondutiful wife she is after makin’ herself. Tell her that from now until the ind of me life she must cut all feelin’s of love from her heart for that man or any other man. Tell her that I have houses in three cities and property in Panama. Tell her that my income is $3,000 gold a year, besides what I make by me lectures. Tell her that I neither drink, smoke nor chew. An’, thin, in the name of Hivin! what more does she want? Tell her I’ll take her to Colon to-morrow, there be a ship sailin’.”

This was related to the bewildered girl, and she was requested to go with her husband.

“Be jabbers, ’tis a policeman that I’ll be after gittin’ to watch her to-night,” he said to himself as he half led, half pulled her to a coach. “If I don’t, ’tis elope she will with that blaguard Southern gintleman. An’, after me spindin’ so much money upon her, an’ ’tis ashamed I’d be to show me face on the Zone if I didn’t take the colleen back with me.”

After much discussion and interpreting, Hulda was prevailed upon to accompany her husband to a hotel. Here people were paid to watch her, while the bridegroom went to dispatch a telegram to the steamship agency, which read: “reserve bridal soute on ship sailing to-morrow for Colon.”

When Hulda was taken on board the next day she had been outwardly appeased by a present from her husband of a diamond ring and $100 in bright gold pieces, but a fire of hatred, fed by a vanquished purpose, smoldered in her breast.

THE CANAL ZONE ARCHITECT’S WEDDING.

(PART III.)

It was a Sunday afternoon when the ship on which this ill-assorted pair took passage reached its dock at Cristobal. “The boys” were out in force to see what “Mickey” Vickins’ bride looked like. There was a murmur of suppressed admiration when she walked down the ladder, and each took a long breath when he saw the “architect” walking behind the fair girl with every appearance of ownership. “The Vickingstadt has put it all over us,” said one man, laughing. “She certainly is a beautiful girl,” exclaimed another. “‘Mickey Vickins’ never told the truth before, but he told it this time,” said one of the dry-dock gang, “so I am out $25, for I bet a feller last night that ‘Mickey’ ’ud bring back a kitchen mechanic. The joke is on me, all right.”

And then “the boys,” with one voice, shouted, “What’s the matter with ‘Mickey’ Vickins? He’s all right!”

They gave three hearty cheers for “Mickey” Vickins and his bride, and then something happened. The much-admired Hulda, not understanding what it was all about, and in her haste to get ashore, did not notice where she was going, and ran into the arms of a man from her own country, who, upon looking at her closely, embraced her and tenderly kissed her.

“God be praised and glorified! What am I up against now?” exclaimed the astounded and disgusted Vickingstadt. The man proved to be Hulda’s brother-in-law, who, when her sister had died, left Germany for parts unknown.

“Who is that old man?” he asked fiercely, pointing to the unfortunate “architect.” Hulda talked at some length in her own tongue, wrung her hands, cried and begged her brother-in-law to take her away from her husband.

“Come, darlint,” said the unsuspecting “Mickey” Vickins, “come along. Shure, I’m not understanding what you do be sayin’ to your Dutch friend, but I won’t have the dry-dock gang hear it, or they’ll harrish the life out of me, the blaguards.”

“Go away, you old devil!” said Hulda, in very good English, which was readily understood by the crowd.

“Praises be, ’tis call the polis I’ll be after doin’ if you don’t come with me to our beautiful home that’s all ready for us.”

“You scoundrel, you kidnapped her from her own lover on the dock in New York City,” shouted the brother-in-law.

“I did not,” said the husband.

“You did,” said Hulda.

At this the little man became angry and tried to pull her away from her countryman. In the meantime, the crowd having closed in about the angry trio, shouted, “Go to it, ‘Mickey,’” when several policemen interfered.

“‘Mickey’ kidnapped her, all right,” said one of his friends, laughing.

“Who’d ever thought it?” said another.

“He’ll have to go to jail for it, poor devil,” smilingly spoke a third.

Meanwhile, the “architect” was busy showing his marriage certificate to a policeman, who, upon examining it, ordered Hulda to go home with her husband, at the same time telling the brother-in-law to go about his business or he would arrest him. Then the Vickingstadt seized the arm of the sulky Hulda and, amid cheers of the crowd, walked off the dock in triumph.

* * * * *

One Sunday morning about three months after her arrival Hulda ordered her servant to prepare sauerkraut for dinner. “Mickey” Vickins ordered corned beef and cabbage, and threw the sauerkraut out with his own hands. After Hulda had given the order she went for a walk, and came back with an appetite for the good old German dish, to find the Irish substitute awaiting her. She flew into a rage at once, and, unknown to the Vickingstadt, sent for her brother-in-law. When he arrived she poured the whole terrible tale of woe into his willing ear. After the “architect” had finished his nice boiled dinner he tiptoed to his wife’s bedroom and found it deserted. “The Lord be praised,” he said to himself, “where did the colleen go to?”

A small window opened from Hulda’s room on to the back veranda, and he was just in time to witness the condolences of the brother-in-law, along with certain other little tendernesses which made him feel sick at heart. As this is not a novel, I must refrain from summing up his feelings, and shall confine myself to facts. I happened to look through my window just as he tiptoed from his front door, after having looked at his wife conversing with her brother-in-law. He looked as if he wished me to speak, and I bade him a “good morning.”

“I am your neighbor beyant, ma’am,” said he, coming close to the window and speaking in a whisper. “I want for you to come with me an’ see a sight that’ll freeze the blood in your veins, if you’re an honest woman, which I think ye are.”

Without saying a word I opened the door and stepped lightly upon the sidewalk beside him.

“What has happened?” I asked.

“Somethin’ fierce,” he replied. “Shure the blood is curdlin’ in the veins of me; but don’t open your mouth, for I don’t want the blaguards disturbed.”

“Ah! there are thieves in your house,” said I, in a whisper.

“Worse nor that,” said he.

A shiver went through me. “Has some one been murdered?” I queried, halting at the threshold of his door.

“Yis,” he answered in a husky voice, and relapsing completely into the vernacular, “the sowl in me is murthered.”

I walked behind him mechanically. He entered the bedroom on tiptoe, and bade me follow him. It did not occur to me then that I had, rather unconsciously, been lured from my own domicile to the bedroom of a man to whom I had never spoken before. It seemed perfectly proper that I should follow this little old man, just as if it had been a little old white-haired woman. He tiptoed to the little window and pointed to something outside. I fully believed that I was to see something awful, so I closed my eyes, almost involuntarily, it would seem, as I walked to where he stood. When I opened them they looked upon the lovely Hulda and the brother-in-law. Her cheek was close to his cheek; she was looking into his eyes, and both were smiling. I smiled, too, and looked on approvingly, for I had believed for three months that my neighbors were father and daughter.

“Isn’t that purty conduct for a well-brought-up Dutch gurl, an’ the wife of as good a man as ever wore shoe leather?” he asked. His voice sounded hollow and strange. At the word “wife” I turned and fled, for the full significance burst upon me.

“Come back,” he called, “an’ tell me what you think of it.”

I paid no attention to the request, and gained my own apartment very much out of breath, but in a few minutes the little man returned and said that the girl was having a fit. So I followed him again, This time there was no mystery; I knew only too well that there had been a quarrel. When I returned to the bedroom the fair Hulda lay stretched upon the floor in what appeared to be a swoon. There was a black girl bathing her forehead with bayrum, and all about was dire confusion.

“You had no right to tell me to cook that cabbage, and you had no right to throw away that sauerkraut,” said the negro servant, as she helped me to lift her mistress from the floor to the bed.

“Shure, there’s nothing in the world as bad for a woman in her condition as sauerkraut,” answered the little man, meekly.

On hearing the words “sauerkraut” Hulda became quite hysterical and began to kick and to abuse the “architect.”

“What am I to do at all, at all?” said he, as he endeavored to stroke her head, in return for which she pinched and tried to bite him. “God be praised and glorified,” ejaculated the husband. “I thry to plaze the creature, an’ she has everything that I can get for her. Say, Hulda, is it your brother-in-law you want?”

THE CANAL ZONE ARCHITECT’S WEDDING

(PART IV.)

At this point there came an interruption in the person of the doctor who had been called. He was very red in the face, and as he prepared to take Hulda’s temperature he asked of her husband, “What is all this ruction about? How many more times must I witness these scenes? Why don’t you give the girl up? Some day she’ll stick a knife in your back, and then she will be sent to prison for life.”

“Glory be to God!” shouted the “architect”. “Ain’t the woman me wife?”

“You ought to be ashamed to tell it,” said the doctor. “You, with one leg in the grave and the other on the brink. I am going to send her to the hospital now, and you are to leave her there. The girl is too young to be married to an old fellow like you.”

“I’m only 34,” replied the Vickingstadt.

“You’re a cheerful idiot of a liar,” retorted the doctor.

In the end two men came with a stretcher, and Hulda was taken from her husband’s house, never to return to live with him again. The medico followed, banging the door behind him.

“He’s of me own race,” said “Mickey” Vickins, “an’ he do be mad to see how young me wife is, because ‘blood is thicker than water’ an’ he hates to hear the lads laughin’ at me misfortunes. We of the Irish race do be very outspoken with each other, an’ that’s why we get the name of being such fighters; but I observe that we can’t beat the Dutch, bad luck to them. Well, she’s gone, and ’tis a rest I’ll be after havin’ now,” said he, “for the floor is that hard that me bones ache.”

He had peace in his home after this, but he received letters from Culebra telling him he must support his wife. One day Hulda returned and rifled his boxes in the hope of procuring the deeds to his property, but, instead, she found his citizenship papers, correspondence school diploma and an honorable discharge from the United States Army. These she tore into shreds and left them where her husband could readily find them. She had taken up her residence at the home of her brother-in-law in Colon, and many evil tongues were wagging. The “boys” teased the Vickingstadt, and he was terribly crushed as a result, for he disliked to hear Hulda criticised. “God forgive her,” he would say, “I tried to be an ideal man. I was lovin’, an’ she said I was too lovin’. I never tasted a drop of liquor, an’ she said that wasn’t natural. I never smoked or chewed tobacco, an’ she said she’d rather have me do both, because smokin’ and chewin’ was good for the breath. Now, what do you think of that? ’Tis a hard thing to understand the ladies, bad cess to them. I never could understand them.”