“No,” replied Fewer, “only a few around town; but why?”
The iron will of the old captain arose to the emergency. “Fewer,” said he, “but for my friendly interference in your behalf, you would now be a dead man.”
“What!” shrieked the editor.
“A dead man, I say!” reaffirmed the captain, in a quiet, determined voice. “Here,” said he, opening a paper, “this libelous article—why did you print such a contemptible thing?”
Fewer was at heart a groveling coward. He whined and begged, and protested that Lem Webb, a misanthropic lawyer, had written the article, and that he, Webb, had agreed to pay him five dollars for its publication.
“It will cost you your life, sir,” said the captain, with a stern military ring in his voice. “There is but one way to avert the calamity in which your corpse must necessarily figure as the principal attraction.”
“How, Captain? For God’s sake tell me,” begged the now trembling editor.
The captain explained the conditions. “Suppress all of the present issue possible, run off another issue of the paper, containing an amende honorable, and take a horsewhipping. Otherwise, death.”
The terms were agreed upon instantly, and the captain hurried back to inform the major of the “unconditional surrender,” and to prepare a copy of an amende honorable, while the frightened editor commenced making preparations for a special edition.
That afternoon the World again made its appearance, and contained the following retraction: