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

you as well as for you. You have no feathers in your heads there, and you are wearing none now,” and he proudly straightened up those on his head.

“In our country we have not many feathers as you have here,” answered Cleary. “The birds do not come often to that land, it is so cold. Only our greatest men wear feathers. When we reach home and grow old and wise and valiant, perhaps we shall all have feathers. This old warrior of ours has feathers at home, but he does not carry them on journeys. My young friend and I are yet too young. We have a picture of our old friend here with his feathers.”

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Sam. “What are you driving at. We’ll be worse off than ever now.”

“Just you let me manage this affair,” said Cleary. “Give me that photo of the dress-parade at East Point that you showed me last week.”

Sam did as he was told. It represented the dress-parade at sunset, the companies drawn up in line at parade-rest and the band in full blast going through its evolutions in the foreground, with a peculiarly magnificent drum-major in bearskin hat and plumes at the head, swinging a gorgeous baton.

Cleary exhibited it to Carlos.

“There is our elderly friend,” said he, indicating the drum-major. “He is leading the national war-dance of our people. There is the tom-tom,” he added triumphantly, pointing at the bass-drum, which was fortunately presented in full relief.

Carlos was taken aback, and he made a guttural exclamation of surprise.

“Do you dress like that when you are at home?” he asked of Colonel James.

“I do,” replied the colonel majestically.

“Then I bow down before you,” said the chief, kneeling down and touching the ground with his forehead three times. “But,” he added, as he rose to his feet, “you have not yet proved that we are brothers. Where are your tattoo-marks? Look at mine!”

“Sam, strip,” whispered Cleary, and Sam tore off his coat and shirt, displaying the masterpieces of the artistic boatswain. A cry of admiration went up from the assembled savages. Carlos rushed at him, threw his arms about his neck, and rubbed his nose violently against his.

“For heaven’s sake, save me, Cleary!” cried Sam. “My nose will be worse than Saunder’s, and Marian is prejudiced against damaged noses.”

Cleary thought it best not to interfere, and finally the chief grew tired of this exercise. He hardly paid any attention while Cleary showed the modest tattoo-marks on his arms, and Colonel James exhibited equally insignificant symbols on his, for he, too, had been tattooed in his youth. He was too much engrossed in Sam’s red hair and his variegated cuticle.

“Here is the picture of the water-ordeal which you forgot to look at,” said Cleary, as he collected the photographs. “This is my friend again with his head in the water and his legs stretched out in supplication to the god of the temple.”

Carlos looked at it in ecstasy.

“Oh, my brothers!” he cried. “To think that I should not have known you! You torture each other just as we do. You are tattooed just as we are! You have bigger feathers and bigger dances and bigger tom-toms. You are bigger savages than we are! Come, let us feast together.”

The repast was soon prepared in the center of the clearing. The prisoners, now unbound, washed and happy, were seated in the place of honor on each side of the chief. A huge pot of miscellaneous food was set down in the midst, and they all began to eat with their fingers, the chief picking out the tidbits for his guests and putting them in their mouths. They were so much delighted with the results of the day’s work that they ate heartily and asked no questions. When the meal was over, Cleary turned to the chief and thanked him in a little oration, which was received with great favor.

“We have found our brothers,” he said in conclusion, “and you have found yours. You believe us now when we say that we have come to bless you and not to injure you. We will not take your land. We will generously give you part of it for yourselves. You see how we all love you, the aged warrior and the redheaded chief as well as I. Why will you not come with us when we set out on our journey to our great chief, or why, at any rate, will you not send your chiefs with us, to tell him that you have received us all as brothers and that we shall always be friends and allies?”

Carlos translated this speech sentence by sentence. Cleary was a good speaker, and they were impressed by his style as well as by his argument. They palavered together for some time; then Carlos arose and addressed his guests, but particularly Sam, whom he considered as the leader.

“Brothers,” he said, “we are indeed brothers by the torture, tattoo, tom-tom, and top-feather. We did not know who you were, we did not understand you. We wished to be left in peace. We did not want to have the Castalians come here and rob us. We did not want their beads and their brandy. We wanted to be let alone. But you are our brothers. You are greater savages than we are. Why should we not go with you? The chiefs of our other villages are coming tomorrow at sunrise. I will conduct you back to your great chief with them, and we shall all rejoice together.”

It was now nearly dark. Carlos apologized for not having accommodation for his guests in his tree-hut, but provided comfortable blankets on the ground and had a fire built for them in a secluded place near the village. The three men were soon sleeping peacefully, and they did not awake until the sun had already risen.

IX On Duty at Havilla

When they woke they heard the noise of voices in the village and hastened thither.