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

brought to him announcing that the Moritos had massacred the garrison stationed among them, that the whole province of San Diego was in revolt, and that the regiment there would probably have to fall back on Havilla. Sam was much scandalized, and sent at once for the native editor.

“What does this mean?” said he.

“Pardon, my colonel,” said the little man apologetically, “this is a newspaper and this is news. I am sure it is true.”

“That is the civilian conception of news,” said Sam, with disdain. “Officially this is not true. We have instructions, as you have often been told, not to allow anything to be printed that can injure the Administration at Whoppington. Anyone can see how this would injure it, and news that can injure it is, from the military point of view, untrue. General Notice is making a tour of the country at home, receiving ovations everywhere on account of the complete subjugation of the islands. What effect will such news have upon his reception? Is it a proper way to treat a general who has deserved well of his country?”

“But,” interposed the editor, “don’t the people know that you are continually sending out more troops?”

“The people do not mind a little thing like that,” said Sam. “When an officer and a gentleman says the war is over, they believe it, and they show their gratitude by voting money to send new regiments. Your action in printing this stuff is most disloyal. I will send one of my assistants around to your office with you to see that this edition is destroyed, and if you repeat the offense you will be deported.”

The unfortunate man retired, shrugging his shoulders. As he went out Cleary came running in with a copy of the paper.

“Oh! you’ve got a copy of that, have you?” said Sam. “It’s an outrage to print such things, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid it’s true,” said Cleary.

“What difference does that make?” exclaimed Sam. “It’s the business of an army to conquer a country. We’ve done it twice, and we can do it as often as we like again.”

“Hear, hear!” cried Cleary. “You’re becoming more and more of a soldier as you get promoted. You have the true military instinct, I see. Of course it makes no difference who holds the country, but I’m a little disappointed in the Moritos. As for San Diego, Colonel Booth of your old regiment is in command, and I half think he didn’t back up the Morito garrison out of jealousy toward you. He wanted to have the Morito country go back, so as to belittle our exploit. But we’ll get even with him. I’ve seen the cable-censor, and not a word about it will go home. I have just sent a despatch saying that the whole island is entirely in our hands and that the natives are swearing allegiance by thousands.”

“That’s right,” said Sam. “It’s really a kindness to the people at home, for if they think it’s true it makes them just as happy as if it were true, and I think it’s positively cruel to worry them unnecessarily.”

“To be sure,” said Cleary. “And if it does get out, we’ll throw all the blame on the Secretary of War and his embalmed beef. They say he’s writing a book to show that a diet of mummies is the best for fighting men⁠—and so the quarrels go on. By the way, I just stopped a piece of news that might have interested you. Do you know that you have suppressed the Declaration of Independence?”

“Nonsense. I haven’t seen a copy of it in two years.”

“Well, here’s a despatch that I got away from the cable-office just in time. It would have gone in another ten minutes. Here it is.”

Sam took the paper and read an account of the printing by a native committee of fifty thousand copies of the Declaration in Castalian, and its immediate suppression by Colonel Jinks, the censor.

“It’s a downright lie,” cried Sam. “I’ll call my native secretary and inquire into this,” and he rang his bell.

“See here, what does this mean?” he asked the clerk who hurried in.

The man thought a minute.

“I do not know the Declaration of Independence,” he said, “but perhaps that paper I translated for you the other day had something to do with it. I have not a copy here.”

“Were they burned?”

“Not yet, sir. They were seized, and are in our depot.”

“Come,” said Sam to Cleary, “let’s go over there and look at it. It’s a half-mile walk and it will do me good.”

“How are things at San Diego?” asked Sam, as they walked along together. “You’ve been out there, haven’t you?”

“Yes. We’ll have to come in. The Cubapinos have got a force together at a town farther down the river and are threatening us there. We got pretty near them and mined under a convent they were in, and blew up a lot of them, but it didn’t do them much harm, for a lot of recruits came in just afterward from the mountains. That convent was born to be blown up, it seems, for some Castalian anarchists had a plot to blow it up some years ago, and came near doing it, too. We made use of their tunnels, which the monks were too lazy to have filled up. The anarchist plot was found out, and they garroted a dozen of them.”

“What inhuman brutes those anarchists are!” cried Sam. “Think of their trying to blow up a whole houseful of people! I wish we could take some one of the smaller islands and put all the anarchists of the world there and let them live out their precious theories. Just think what a hell it would be! What infernal engines of hatred and destruction they would construct, if they were left to themselves⁠—machines charged with dynamite and bristling with all sorts of explosive contrivances!”

“Something like a battleship,” suggested Cleary.

“Don’t talk nonsense!” exclaimed Sam. “Only Castalian fiends would try to destroy law and order and