Part 4

ITS INTRODUCTION AND DESTRUCTION AT PORTO RICO

My friend the Señor Don is of a precise and military bearing, clad with a dignity that enhances his scant five feet of stature to herculean proportions. He is a handsome little man with pompadour hair and a bold “Wilhelm der Kaiser” mustache. His speech is exact, somewhat cold, yet with a flavor of melancholy to it, like the style of Thackeray. When he expresses himself in English, it is with seriousness, that seriousness which marks all his enterprises, but it is with some honest mistakes concerning the language as a whole. A fine love for our free institutions is also characteristic of the Señor Don. I can not tell you how his sad story of the little canoe affects me. I may only try.

“When I am to mek retoorn to Puerto Rico, Hooaleece” (which is part of my name on the Spanish tongue), said he, “I have bear in my mind the indolence of those people. Not like that rooggèd American who enjoy the manly art of boxing the eye of hees frien’, or to mek strong resistance on the field of the ball of the foot, or splash t’rough the water in aquatic spooorts. No, hombre! Not sooch do they mek in Puerto Rico. Nuzzing more rrrrobust than to smoke cigarillos and to drink chocolatay, and I say, Thees ees the end of these people. What manner of civilizassyone will mek the drinking of chocolatay and the perpetual smoking of cigarillos? That of the conqueror? No. That of the arts? No. That of what, then? That of nuzzing.

“Well, what then? I say, I shall to missionary these people. To them I shall introduce the can-ooo American. It ees a beginning. Bimeby the boxing-glove, the ball of the foot, the base-ball, but gradooally--poco á poco. At first the can-ooo. There it ees to sit still, after the manner of Puerto Rico, becows, if you are not to sit with precceesion, that can-ooo will to set up, and some man must fish you. I buy can-ooo. I have it transport at mooch expense. I veesit Señor Córdova at hees home upon the sea, and there also has arrrrrived my little can-ooo.

“‘Ah!’ says the señor, ‘what ees thees leetle bo-at? Eet ees very pretty!’

“‘Eet ees can-ooo American,’ I tell heem. ‘You pull eet with thees stick. Eet ees at your disposal. Will you not make essay at eet?’ ‘Buen,’ says Señor Córdova; ‘where to put the foot?’

“I am to tell heem, but he waits not for reply, putting the foot oopon the edge. Eenstantly that can-ooo make revolution, preceepeetating Señor Córdova eento the ocean. Ah, what confusion! What disturbance! How mooch different from America! There, when I have to overthrow myself in that can-ooo, the hardy cour-rrage of those people mek them to cry, ‘Ha, ha, goood eye! Pool for the shore!’ But now! Señora Córdova and Señoritas Córdova three mek lamentable outcry, ‘Papa is to drown!’ And those naygrose which are there run around like stoopeed fellows. Eet ees to me that the responseebeelity falls that my friend Córdova do not perish. There he ees, pushing the water with hees hands, and speaking as one should not before ladies.

“What to do? I can reach heem with my arm, but that ees not nautical. I have by the--the--_como se llaman_ thees pole with the iron? Ah, bo-at-hoook! si, si, si! The bo-at-hoook, and by that I hook heem.

“‘A Dios!’ he cry, ‘I am assassinated!’

“‘Be still, foolish person!’ I say. ‘Is not your life to be saved?’

“‘Si,’ he say. ‘Tiene usted razón, but I shall walk.’ So he place his legs upon the ground beneath the water, which is not extensive in that place, and coom to shore.

“‘Will you try heem again?’ I say.

“‘Causa admiración!’ he say, ‘I theenk not. No sé the habeets of the little can-ooo.’

“So he send a naygro for stimulant, the which I eembibe, while he mek change of hees attire at hees house.

“When he has returned he say to me: ‘Let us behold you master thees bo-at of eenstabeelity. Can you mek heem go?’

“By thees time those stimulant have made my heart strong, my cour-rrage severe. Am I not American citizen? What ees eet? I tell heem that moment:

“‘I can pool eet with the stick; I can put in the sail and fly over the water like a sheep. Do you wish to see?’

“All the ladies and Señor Córdova cry out they will not let me be so dangerous. But I am resolved. Señorita Margarita Córdova is a yoong lady ver-ree beautiful. I am an American citizen. I tek anuzzer glass of aguardiente--brandee. What do I care for one can-ooo? Two? Three? I send the naygro for the sail in a steady voice: ‘Pepe, go at once and get the sail.’

“Señor Córdova says he will resist, but I pay no attencion. I place the pole; I feex the strings; I adjoost the ruddle; I put een three large stone for ballass.

“‘Once more,’ say the ladies, ‘let us intreat--’

“‘At your feet, ladies,’ I say, ‘but I go!’

“So I go, and then for the first eet is pleasant: the weend blow carefully; the little can-ooo jump oopon the water. But now there comes a large cloud. The weend he blow not so carefully. I am far from home. On the shore, Señor Córdova and hees ladies make observacion with a telescope. It is sad, I think, that they can see me so plain, yet am I upon thees stormy ocean. Of what avail is the telescope, if I am to shipwreck the can-ooo? Ah! I would not at that time that I had the ancestors of so cour-rrageous. Eet ees one of them who make Rolando see hees feeneesh. Out oopon these violent water I am cara á cara with the ma’neefeecent past. Shall I to turn the back upon the perilous? Die, then, the thought! Beside, that moment may the Señorita Margarita be with the beautiful eye at the telescope. So I am gay; I smile, as though I mek enjoyment of the terrrible bouncing of that little can-ooo; I sing areea from _Fra Diavolo_--ti-ti-tee-tum-te-tee! But at heart I regret mooch. What is a can-ooo, for the most? Eet ees not so strong as paper; eet ees a small, little boat that thees wave who shake hees teeth at me may devour at a bite. And then, alas! comes in a wave--ta! Ah, veree cold! Veree damp! With my hat I mek attempt to hurl the water outdoors. Comes another wave--another. I labor desperate; eet weel not do. Eet ees not enough. The can-ooo is sinking. Bimeby I am to sit in the water. It happen. Then I am to clasp the can-ooo with my arm, for in the both end of eet exists an air-tink--a box made of iron which hold the air, that the can-ooo may remain upon the water.

“The stern of that can-ooo go down first; glides the large rocks for ballass to where I am sitting. Thees I am to t’row out. Pah! When I bend to catch heem, comes a large wave right down my neck.

“There am I, then, clasping that can-ooo passionately, only hees end sticking up from the water. Those large stone hold the other end downright.

“At once I think, ‘Córdova shall survey t’rough hees telescope, and send to me assistance.’ But on the second thought I see eet ees not to be. I have mek sooch large talk of what I may do with that can-ooo that Córdova shall think: ‘Thees ees novelty American. My friend shows me all! What devils are thees Americans, to swim in a boat standing oop in the water? Who shall presentiment their leemitaciones?’ And he shall call hees neighbors to see the es-pectacle. Everybody shall come and remark, ‘Ah! Meeracoolous!’ and shake hees head.

“When I think that, I am almost to weep. My friends to see me fish for fish with myself before their eyes! Behold the beautiful Margarita! Will it not to melanchate her days of youth to rrrremember, ‘Through a telescope I saw my dear friend dissolve een the water?’ Sad, thees. Well, then, eet ees unavoiadabble. So to mek en end manful--strong. Therefore I smile again. But that smile he take all my strength. I wish not to show disrespec’ for thees so noble country, yet eet ees the coostom for to mek the dollar. On that account some work is not so well done. That air-tink, on which depend my life, he leak. The can-ooo ees sinking, sinking. My ear against hees side, I can hear that little noise--shhhh!--where the water run in and the air run out. Eet ees the hour-glass marking how long I shall remain een the country. When he feel oop--pop! A Dios, el mundo!

“And eet ees so slow! I am of eempatient deesposeecion. With the long waiting I am not simpatico. I look how fast the water come up on that can-ooo, and I esteemate that I have to sit in those cold water for five hours. And my friends observe t’rough the telescope! Misericordia! Eet ees too dam mooch! For five hours must I smile and sink!

“And when I think that Córdova shall say, ‘Ah, but he ees not eenteresting, thees fellow! Eet ees a pairformance monotonoose to sit there in the water! He ees not really an American! Not sooch do they, I give my word!’ then I geenash my tooth, and I shall to tear my hair, but how may I unclasp that little can-ooo?

“Now, to any man thees would seem suffeecent--a meesery plenty for the heart to hold. Yet listen! Here am I, three miles from shore in the stormy ocean, grasping a sinking can-ooo, while eet ees necessary that I seem to enjoy myself, to compensate my friends who witness t’rough the telescope--ees eet not the leemit? Hear me! Now comes the shark! Madre de Dios! How shall I now perform? Shall I make a great splash with my feet to enfrighten that wrrretched repteel away?

“And Margarita mek observation of me in the actions of the little playful child. Ah, my heart shall burst! In her eyes to become reediculous! Si, yet here comes the shark to bite me by the leg. To splash eet ees reediculous, but what can be so mooch reediculous as a man without some legs? Eet ees time I splash. Vigorosely I the water spatter. The shark, that cowardly insect, run away--only to get hees friends. Around me they circulate, each one putting oopon me the obstruction of hees cold, unfeeling eye. And it rains. In the air ees water! in the ocean ees water; in the water ees sharks. I am tire of water; I regret that I have not brought the ball of the foot or the boxer-glove to eenvigorate thees island.

“I am think to be missionary; I am become martyr. One consolación I obtain. The rain eet has obscured the view. From the shore they can not see. I am to smile no longer. That ees joy. A little joy, not too mooch, for now ees but a trifle of that can-ooo left elevated over the water, and I am fatigue with splashing. I am deciding shall I omit to splash, and thus allow thees beeest of shark to bite me queeck, or shall I to drown, when--ta! A hand on the stern of my t’roat, and a voice t’rough the nose, a voice so beautiful, a voice American, saying (eef you pairmeet eemeetacion), ‘Hallo, bosss! Do yer cum out here for thees exercise evvereee Saturday?’ and I am lift into a boat.

“So they tek me to Córdova. My clothes he ees shorten by the water; also hees color ees not all in the same place as when I mek purchase of heem. He ees the flannel clothes with the rrred, white, and blue straps. Now he ees the rainbow, and from the hat has come color to my nose, to my cheeek.

“I land calm, coomposséd--eet ees like I have made the same each day. Córdova he ees perplex; the ladies they know not what to say.

“‘Have you petroleum?’ I ask Córdova.

“He mek reply, ‘Yes, I have.’

“‘Of your kindness, obtain me some,’ I say and retire unto the house.

“When I retoorn, the old clothes repose upon my arm; I smoke the cigarillo. With the cold blood I walk to that can-ooo. I poot the old clothes upon heem. With the petrol I es-sprinkle all. I strike the match, first to light the cigarillo--then so carelessly, I light the little can-ooo.

“‘Pardon,’ I say. ‘Coostom American.’

“The ladies all cry, ‘Ah!’ and Córdova he knock hees feest with hees head and mek outcry: ‘Ah! What devils are thees Americanos! What care they for expense!’

“So I am veen-dickateed. And that end my little can-ooo.”

V

THE REVERSE OF A MEDAL

AN ACCOUNT OF THE MAKING OF MARY ELLEN’S HERO

Mary Ellen Darragh was a strange girl. Her life may have had something to do with that. Left fatherless at sixteen, with a mother and three little Darraghs on her hands, she at once jumped into the breach, which in this case was the breeches, and by the use of good taste, a ready tongue, pleasant manners and plenty of hard work, performed her stint so well that now, at two-and-twenty, she was sole proprietor of a millinery establishment which employed four girls besides herself. Carriage-folk came to the door of Mary Ellen’s establishment, she was so good--and so cheap.

Mary Ellen was born with both gray eyes wide open; she absorbed the deportment of the ladies of her clientele with the unfailing surety of grasp that made her a success. She had the “business” of polite intercourse down as fine as the most pronouncedly mannered of her patrons--even to the English. The objective case received all that was due it from Mary Ellen when she had “her airs on,” as her detractors put it. Now, these were no airs; they were the girl’s standard. More than the tilt of the head and a shade of the voice were in them. There was the hope of something above the buying and selling, and wheedling of cross-grained customers.

Yet the effect on her acquaintances was bad. They thought it buncombe, and although Mary Ellen was trim, pretty and stylish, she had never kept company with any young man until Fireman Carter appeared on the scene. Other young men had come, seen and left, saying that kind of gait was too swift for them. Mary Ellen wanted to sit at a reasonable distance from her caller and converse. It must be added that Mary Ellen’s conversational powers were limited--there was a measure of justification in the course of the young men.

However, Fireman Carter was of another breed. He, too, had inner aspirations toward gentility. Let me at once confute any suspicion that Dick Carter was snob or prig. By no means. Indeed, in his effort not to be superior he sometimes exceeded the most ungentle actions of his companions. The war between his inner monitor and his desire to be rated a good fellow played havoc with Dick’s peace of mind. When he first put his cap under the sofa in Mary Ellen’s little parlor he recognized a quality in his hostess for which he long had yearned. For one thing, he had an opportunity to hold forth at length on that subject so dear to the heart of man--himself.

Mary Ellen was smitten at first sight, and why not? A mighty agreeable picture of young manhood was Fireman Carter: thin, clean, dark, handsome in face; tall, strong and supple in body; alert and ready in mind; an ideal type of the finest corps of men in the world, the firemen. He looked especially distinguished in his uniform. So Mary Ellen listened to the song of Richard Carter. Again, I must interfere. Dick didn’t blow and bluster about his prowess; he merely took out his soul and explained its works to Mary Ellen. He left that night feeling he was understood at last. And he went again every time he had a chance.

Mrs. Darragh, worthy old lady, chaperoned the visits, an acquired idea of Mary Ellen’s. She enjoyed her evening nap in the parlor almost as much as the young folk did their discussions. Little was she needed; Dick appreciated his lady’s dignity too much to do aught to invalidate it. In fact, he studied for those evenings, reading up by stealth and artfully leading the talk to the subject on which he was prepared, and then it would do your heart good to see Fireman Carter, with extended hand explaining the primal causes of things, to Mary Ellen’s cooing obligato of admiration. Solomon, in all his glory was a poor fool to Dick Carter, in one person’s estimation.

This was all very well, but Mary Ellen, like most young women in love, would have liked a more forceful demonstration of her idol’s regard. She understood at last why her friends preferred action to conversation. This long-distance courtship might have been fatal to another man than handsome, daredevil Dick; as it was it added a piquancy; but it made trouble, nevertheless, and here’s how that came.

Under the softening influence of Mary Ellen’s eyes, Carter had grown an intimacy with a man of his company by the name of Holtzer. Holtzer was German by parentage and sentimental by nature. Especially did Holtzer deplore the fact that he knew no nice young women--those who liked music and poetry. Dick gave him a “knock-down” to Mary Ellen, and Holtzer also became a constant visitor. The fact that it is bad policy to introduce one’s best friend to one’s best girl can be proved either by cold reasoning or by experience. Carter tried experience. You see, he would acknowledge to no emotional interest in Mary Ellen when questioned by Holtzer--he scouted the idea--so Holtzer wasn’t to blame.

As for Mary Ellen, Cupid had pounded her heart into a jelly. She was tender to Dick’s friend to a degree that put the none too modest German in possession of facts that were not so. All the overflow of regard he received as Dick’s friend he attributed to his own personal charms, and, unlike Carter, he didn’t hesitate to talk about it. It was Carter’s pleasant duty to listen to Holtzer’s joyful expounding of the reasons why the latter felt he had made a hit with Mary Ellen, and not only to listen, but to indorse. It shows the stuff Fireman Carter was made of to tell that he stood this vicious compound of insult and injury with a tranquil face. The serpent had entered Eden, and utilized Adam to support his position, but Adam smiled and took his medicine like a man.

Several times he intended to question Mary Ellen concerning Holtzer, yet, when in her presence, a certain feeling of surety and a very big slice of pride forbade it.

In the meantime he was regaled with Mary Ellen, per Holtzer, until violent thoughts entered his mind.

Dick yearned for the first time in his life to do something heroic. He sweated to stand out the one man of the day; to be held up to the public gaze on the powerful pen of the reporter. He wanted to swagger into Mary Ellen’s little parlor covered and rustling with metaphorical wreaths, and with an actual disk of engraved metal on his broad chest, and thus extinguish Holtzer beyond doubt--not Carter’s doubt, nor Mary Ellen’s doubt, but Holtzer’s doubt.

In this frame of mind he went to sleep one night, to be awakened in the early hours of the morning by a singular prescience born of long experience, which told him the gong was about to ring. For years the alarm had not wakened Dick. No matter how deep his slumber, he was always alert and strained to catch the first note of it.

The metallic cry for help vibrated through the engine-house. It threw each inmate into action, like an electric shock. The dark winter morning was savagely cold, with a wind like an auger. The heroic cord was busted. “Damn the luck!” cried Dick as he took the pole; and it was no solo.

The two most picturesque feats of civilization are the handling of a field-piece and the charge of a fire-engine. Very fine was the old-time chariot race, but what was the driver’s risk on the smooth hippodrome track compared to that of the man who guides a fire-engine through city streets? The chariot driver could, at least, see what was before him; the man who holds the lines on an engine little knows what’s around the corner. But it’s a tale told too often already. A rush, a clamor of hoofs, a roar, and they were rattling over the pavement, the stream of sparks from the engine stack and the constant lightnings from the horses’ shoes making one think of the old adage of fighting fire with fire.

“I suppose,” said Dick, clinging tightly with one hand and waving the other in wild circles as he got into his coat--“I suppose some old lady has left the cat to play with the lamp.”

“Yah,” assented Holtzer, “or else some Mick has taken his pipe to bed with him.”

Then they cursed the old lady and the Mick or whoever it might be.

“The worst of it is that I’m scart now,” confided Holtzer. “I didn’t ust to care much, except for the trouble, but now, when I think of Mary Ellen, I hate to go shinning around taking chances.”

General Bonaparte, the worst-mannered conqueror in history, said that no man was courageous at three o’clock in the morning, an unmerited slight to the vanity of his soldiery. However it may be as to courage, certainly no man was ever philosophical when hauled from his bed at that hour. It was in Fireman Carter’s mind that a small movement of his foot would put his erstwhile friend in violent contact with the cold world below. However, civilization isn’t impotent. He restrained the action and replied: “You want to leave your girl at home--fires is no place for ’em.”

“You don’t understand,” retorted Holtzer, full of sentiment. “You can’t get away from it. It ain’t thinking what’s going to happen to _me_, so much, as thinking how Mary Ellen will feel about it when she hears.”

“You’re awful dead certain on that part of it,” said Dick, and now he hated his friend. The last vestige of humor had left the theme. “Perhaps she won’t care a cuss--how do you know?”

Holtzer started to answer, while Dick listened, his hands clenched tight--maybe there was something he didn’t know about?

There was no more time for conversation. As they turned the corner they saw their destination, an eight-storied storage warehouse, standing alone, with boarded vacant lots at each side of it.

The watchman was there with the keys; it was he who had turned in the alarm. Without delay the firemen, hauling the hose up after them, swarmed to the roof where the flames were beginning to curl.

The fire was in the back of the upper story. While some fought it on that level, the others cut holes through the roof and turned the streams down upon it.

The hose leaked and slippery ponds formed in an instant where the water fell. The wind sawed into one’s marrow in this utterly exposed position.

A head popped up and called off all the men but Holtzer and Dick.

“You fellers hold her down as best you can!” it shouted. “Keep a watch and don’t let it break through--come on, the rest of yer!”

They worked in silence on Dick’s part, and with a continued rattle of what Mary Ellen would think of this from Holtzer. It wrought harder and harder on his companion’s nerves, this prattle--indeed, such waves of rage came over him that he entirely forgot where he was.

Meanwhile the crowd below--gathered in strong numbers in spite of the weather and the hour--were wondering what must be the thoughts of those men standing over a furnace, a hundred feet from the ground. What could either man think of but the danger? The danger of one’s daily work? There is no such thing.

This was a commonplace fire which soon would be well in hand. It had not in the least turned the current of the thoughts of the two men aloft who formed the spectacle, while the household gods below made burnt-offerings of themselves. Then, as if to show that no fire is commonplace, a giant flare sprang from the corner of the building, poised in the air for a moment, then, overthrown by the wind, toppled toward the firemen. They leaped back--one to safety; the other, slipping on a treacherous skin of ice, to fight vainly for his balance for a second, and then to plunge down the mansard roof, speeding for that hard ground so far away. It was a trained man who fell, though. He turned as he went, instinctively gripping with his hands, and they caught--the edge of the cornice--an ice-covered edge to which they clung miraculously, while his body dangled in the wind.

So Dick, safe, looked down at Holtzer, for whom it was a question of seconds, while the roar of pity from the crowd buzzed in his ears.