“The American consul,” read Gordon, as his pencil wriggled across the paper, “refuses to say anything for publication until he has communicated with the authorities at Washington, but from all I can learn he sympathizes entirely with Tellaman. Your correspondent has just returned from an audience with King Tellaman, who asks him to inform the American people that the Monroe doctrine will be sustained as long as he rules this island. I guess that’s enough to begin with,” said Gordon. “Now send that off quick, and then get away from the instrument before the man in Octavia begins to ask questions. I am going out to precipitate matters.”
Gordon found the two kings sitting dejectedly side by side, and gazing grimly upon the disorder of the village, from which the people were taking their leave as quickly as they could get their few belongings piled upon the ox-carts. Gordon walked amongst them, helping them in every way he could, and tasting, in their subservience and gratitude, the sweets of sovereignty. When Stedman had locked up the cable office and rejoined him, he bade him tell Messenwah to send three of his youngest men and fastest runners back to the hills to watch for the German vessel and see where she was attempting to land her marines.
“This is a tremendous chance for descriptive writing, Stedman,” said Gordon, enthusiastically, “all this confusion and excitement, and the people leaving their homes and all that. It’s like the people getting out of Brussels before Waterloo, and then the scene at the foot of the mountains, while they are camping out there, until the Germans leave. I never had a chance like this before.”
It was quite dark by six o’clock, and none of the three messengers had as yet returned. Gordon walked up and down the empty plaza and looked now at the horizon for the man-of-war, and again down the road back of the village. But neither the vessel nor the messengers, bearing word of her, appeared. The night passed without any incident, and in the morning Gordon’s impatience became so great that he walked out to where the villagers were in camp and passed on half-way up the mountain, but he could see no sign of the man-of-war. He came back more restless than before, and keenly disappointed.
“If something don’t happen before three o’clock, Stedman,” he said, “our second cablegram will have to consist of glittering generalities and a lengthy interview with King Tellaman, by himself.”
Nothing did happen. Ollypybus and Messenwah began to breathe more freely. They believed the new king had succeeded in frightening the German vessel away forever. But the new king upset their hopes by telling them that the Germans had undoubtedly already landed, and had probably killed the three messengers.
“Now, then,” he said, with pleased expectation, as Stedman and he seated themselves in the cable office at three o’clock, “open it up and let’s find out what sort of an impression we have made.”
Stedman’s face, as the answer came in to his first message of greeting, was one of strangely marked disapproval.
“What does he say?” demanded Gordon, anxiously.
“He hasn’t done anything but swear yet,” answered Stedman, grimly.