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

The chiefs had already arrived and were exchanging greetings with Carlos and the other residents. Breakfast was prepared by the women on the same ground where they had dined, and by eight o’clock the expedition started, composed of some thirty warriors, several of whom were laden with presents in the shape of baskets and native cloth. When they neared the headquarters of the little invading army, the three white men went ahead and informed the sentinels that it was a peaceful embassy which followed them.

“You must leave me to tell the story of our exploit,” Cleary had said, and his friends were so well satisfied with his record as a talker that they assented.

“General,” said Cleary, as they entered his hut in the village, “we are bringing in all the chiefs of the Moritos. They are ready to lay down their arms and accept any terms. We have sworn friendship to them.”

“How on earth have you managed it?” said the general.

“It is chiefly due to Captain Jinks, or, I should say, Major Jinks. They were about to kill us when, by the sheer force of his glance and his powers of speech, he actually cowed them, and they submitted to him.”

“I have heard of taming wild beasts that way,” said the general, “but I never quite believed it.”

When the chiefs arrived they embraced every soldier they saw and showed every sign of joy. The general ordered a feast to be spread for them and addressed them in English. They did not understand a word of this harangue, but seemed much affected. When they heard that the great general of all was at San Diego, only a day’s march away, they insisted on going thither, and the next day the brigade marched back again, leaving a small garrison behind. The army at San Diego could hardly believe its eyes when at sundown the expedition returned, having fully accomplished its object without firing a shot and accompanied by a band of Moritos. When Cleary’s version of the exploit became known, Sam was openly acclaimed as a hero and the favorite of the army. General Laughter complimented him again, and again mentioned him in despatches. A week later his promotion to be major of volunteers, for meritorious conduct in the field of San Diego, was announced by cable, and again after a few days he was made a colonel. Sam’s cup was full.

“Sam,” said Cleary one day, “I believe in your luck. You’ll be President some of these days. All the time we were up in the mountains I knew it would come out all right because we had you along.”

Meanwhile the chiefs had tendered their presents to General Laughter and had drunk plentiful libations of whisky and soda with him. They spent a week of festivity in the town and then returned, having agreed to all that was asked of them by their “brothers.”

The rainy season now set in, and operations in the field became difficult. Furthermore, the general had decided that the war was at an end, and officially it was so considered. Some troops were left at San Diego, but the headquarters were removed again to Havilla, and Sam went back with the staff. He found himself received as a great man. His two exploits had made him the most famous officer in the army, even more so than the general in command. Soon after his return to the city one of the civil commissioners, who had been sent out by the Administration, gave a large dinner in his honor at the palace. The chief officers and civil officials were among the guests, as well as two or three native merchants who had remained loyal to the invading army for financial and commercial reasons and had not joined the rebels, who composed nine-tenths of the population. These merchants were generally known in the army as the “patriots,” and were treated with much consideration by the civil commissioners.

After dinner the host proposed a toast to Sam and accompanied it with a patriotic speech which thrilled the hearts of his audience. He pointed to the national flag which was festooned upon the wall.

“Look at Old Gory!” he cried. “What does she stand for? For the rights of the oppressed all over the earth, for freedom and equal rights, for⁠—”

There was a sound of boisterous laughter in the next room. A young officer ran forward and whispered to the orator, “Be careful; some of those captured rebel officers are shut up in there, and perhaps they can overhear you. Be careful what you say. Some of them speak English.” The commissioner hemmed and hawed and tried to recover himself.

“What does the dear old flag stand for?” he repeated. “For liber⁠—No⁠—for-r-r⁠—Well, ’pon my word, what does she stand for?”

“For the army and navy,” whispered a neighbor.

“Yes,” he thundered. “Yes, the flag stands for the army and navy, for our officers and men, for our men-of-war and artillery, for our cavalry and infantry, that’s what she stands for!”

This was received with great applause, and the speaker smiled with satisfaction. Then gradually his expression became sad.

“I am sorry to say,” he said⁠—“I am ashamed as a citizen of our great land to be obliged to admit, that there are at home a few craven-hearted, mean-spirited men⁠—shall I call them men? No, nor even women⁠—there are creatures, I say, who disapprove of our glorious deeds, who spurn the flag and the noble principles for which it stands and to which I have alluded, who say that we have no business to take away land which belongs to other people, and that we have not the right to slaughter rebels and traitors in our midst. I appeal to the patriotic Cubapinos at this board, if we are not introducing a higher and nobler civilization into these islands.”

The native gentlemen bowed assent.

“Have we not given them a better language than their own? Have we not established our enlightened institutions? For instance, let me cite the custom house. We have