Captain Jinks, Hero by Ernest Howard Crosby (story read aloud txt) 📕

find out the next day how it began. The fact is, the day before, General Notice had ordered the 68th to move forward about half a mile, and they did so. The Cubapinos objected and insisted on crossing the new picket-line. That evening an officer of theirs walked across it and was shot by the sentinel. That started it.”

“Was the regiment moved across the line fixed on their side of the neutral zone?” said Cleary.

“Oh, yes. But that was all right. Don’t we own the whole place? And the regiment was only obeying orders.”

“I wonder why the general gave the orders?” asked Cleary, musing as he looked into the smoke which he was puffing forth.

“They say it was because he had what he called ‘overmastering political reasons.’ That is, there was the army bill up in Congress and it had to go through, and he was given the tip that some fighting would help it, and he took the hint. It was good statesmanship and generalship, too. All subordinate things must bend to the great general interests of the country. It was a good move, for it settled the business. Gomaldo sent in the next day and tried to patch up a truce, but Notice wouldn’t see his messengers. He told them they must surrender unconditionally. It was fine, soldierly conduct. He’s a brick.”

“What has he gone home for?” asked Sam.

“Why, he’d conquered them. Why shouldn’t he go home? They’re giving him a grand reception at home, and I’m glad to see it.”

“But he says that he has pacified the islands and brought the war to a close!”

“So he did, in the military sense. He couldn’t tell that the scamps wouldn’t submit at once. It wasn’t his fault that they showed such unreasonable bitterness and obstinacy.”

“How much territory do we hold now?” said Sam.

“We’ve got the city and a strip along the bay where the fleet is; about five miles back, I should say. But it’s hardly safe to wander off far at night.”

“What’s going to happen next?” asked Cleary. “I want to send home some news to The Lyre as soon as I can, and I want my friend Jinks here to have a chance to distinguish himself⁠—and you too,” he added hastily.

“We’ll probably get to work by next week, the way things look now. General Laughter is rather slow, but he means business. Gomaldo is getting a big army together, and we may have to take the offensive to get ahead of him. Now I suppose we ought to turn in. How would you like to take a look at Havilla tomorrow and see the place where the naval battle was? We can get off duty in the afternoon. All right, let’s meet at regimental headquarters at three.”

Cleary bade them good night, and Sam, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable effects from his cigar, was quite ready to go to bed.

Sam’s morning was occupied in familiarizing himself with the regimental routine in barracks. The building enclosed a large court which was used for drills and guard-mounting parade, and he did not have occasion to leave it until he went to join his friends at headquarters. Promptly at three o’clock the three men sallied forth. Sam was struck with the magnificence of the principal buildings, including the palace and the cathedral.

“It’s a fine city, isn’t it?” he said.

“Yes, and the women are not bad-looking,” said Cleary.

“The people don’t quite look like savages,” said Sam.

“You can’t judge of them by these,” said Foster. “Wait till you meet some negritos in the country.”

“How large a part of the population are they?” said Sam.

“About one-fortieth, I think, but where principle is involved you can’t go by numbers.”

“Of course not,” was Sam’s reply. “What building is that,” he added, “with our flag over it and the nicely dressed young women in the windows?”

“That?” said Foster, laughing; “oh, that’s the Young Ladies’ Home. We have to license the place. It’s the only way to keep the army in condition. Why, we’ve got about fifty percent infected now.”

“Really?” cried Sam. “How our poor fellows are called upon to suffer for these ungrateful Cubapinos! Still they can feel that they are suffering for their country, too. That’s a consolation.”

“There’s more consolation than that,” said Foster, “for we’re spreading the thing like wildfire among the natives. We’ll come out ahead.”

“I wish, though, that they wouldn’t fly Old Gory over the house,” said Sam.

“There was some talk of taking it down, but you see it’s the policy of the Administration never to haul down the flag when it has once been raised. It presents rather a problem, you see.”

“It may wear out in time,” said Sam, “although it looks painfully new. What will they do then?”

“I confess I don’t know,” said Foster. “They’ll cross the bridge when they reach it.”

“A good many of the shop signs are in English already,” remarked Sam. “That’s a good beginning.”

“Yes,” said Cleary. “But they seem to be almost all saloons, that’s queer.”

“So they are,” said Sam.

“There are some pretty good ones, too,” said Foster. “Just stop in here for a moment and take a drink.”

They entered a drinking-place and found a bar planned on the familiar lines of home.

“Look at this list of our drinks,” said Foster proudly. “Count ’em; there are eighty-two.”

Sam examined the list, which was printed and framed and hanging on the wall, and they each took a glass of beer, standing. There were about a dozen men in the place, most of them soldiers.

“Do they do a big business in these places?” asked Sam.

“You’ll think so when you see the drunken soldiers in the streets in the evening,” answered Foster. “We’re planting our institutions here, I tell you.”

“Not only saloons,” said Sam. “There’s the post-office, for instance.”

“They had a post-office before,” said Cleary.

“But ours is surely better,” rejoined Sam.

“It’s better than it was,” said Foster, “now that they’ve put the new postmaster in jail. They say he’s bagged $75,000.”

“It’s a good example of the way we treat