Dr. Ulswater seemed subdued: “It will make them sick at the stomach. A—a moral lesson.”
“I should think as much!” she said, sweeping vigorously. “That impudent barber! Did he want to be President?”
“I understood he had ambitions.”
She hesitated again: “Do you think the revolution ought to succeed, if their government is very bad? Or would it be better to stop it?”
Dr. Ulswater gasped again, but recovered himself, and brought his mind back to gravity and consideration: “My observation has been that, though tropical governments are sometimes objectionable, these frequent violences seldom improve them, and create distress. I think it is generally more benevolent to back the existing state of things.”
“Oh! Then I think Captain Jansen had better tie something to the other ship, so that we can pull it after us and give it to the other people. Anyway,” she ended, sharply, “I'm sure that conceited thing would make a bad President.”
It was high noon when we steered away for Cape Haitien, towing the war-ship. On shore two or three revolutionists were climbing a gully in the cliffs. Others were sousing their heads in the surf. More of them seemed to be still sick or drowsy. Mrs. Mink went to take a nap. Dr. Ulswater and I leaned against the rail. Captain Jansen edged toward us.
“My, my!” he said. He rubbed his beard a moment, shook his head thoughtfully, and went forward.
Dr. Ulswater pressed his handkerchief to his wet forehead. The heat was great.
“Kit,” he said, solemnly, “this is a discovery. Personality to burn. Captured by desperate insurrectionists, she demands knock-out drops. She puts them to sleep with a coffee-pot, and bundles them ashore. And why not? She balances the issue of a people, tows off a war-ship, and squelches revolution. Why not? And yet, what a phenomenon of intrepid reason! What a woman!”