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

naturally. Cleary soon showed marks of discomfort. It was a warm night, and the sweat began to stand out on his forehead. As far as he was concerned the hazing was already a success, but Sam evidently needed something more.

“Here, give me the tabasco bottle,” whispered Clark to Smith.

As the latter brought the article from one of the baskets, Sam said to him in a low voice,

“Did General Gramp take it out of that same bottle?”

“Yes,” said Smith; “strange to say, it’s the very same one, and all through his life afterward he took tabasco three times a day.”

Sam rolled his eyes painfully to catch a glimpse of the historic bottle. Clark took it and applied it to Sam’s lips. It was red-hot stuff, and the whole audience rose to watch its effect upon the victim at the stake. Sam swallowed it as if it had been lemonade. In fact, he was only aware of the honor that he was receiving. He had only enough earthly consciousness left to notice that one of the cadets in the crowd was photographing him with a kodak, and accordingly he did not even wink.

“By Jove, he’s lined with tin,” ejaculated Saunders, whose deflected nose gave him a sinister expression. “You ought to have had his plumbing, Clark.”

“Shut up and mind your own business,” said Clark. “Come, let’s give him the tub. This won’t do. That other chap’s happy enough where he is.”

Sam was untied again and led forward to the middle of the ring, the faithful Smith still keeping close to him.

“Is that an old tub?” whispered Sam, still standing stiffly as if his body had permanently taken the “braced” shape.

“I should say so. All the generals were ducked in it. Kneel down there and look in. Do you see that round dent in the middle? That’s where General Meriden bumped his head in it. He never did things by halves.”

Sam did as he was told, and he felt that he was in a proper attitude upon his knees at such a shrine. To him it was holy water.

“Now, Jinks,” squeaked Clark.

“Yes, sir,” answered Sam.

“Stand on your head now in that tub, and be quick about it.”

Sam fixed his mind upon General Meriden in the same circumstances, drew in his breath, and endeavored to stand on his head in a foot of water, holding on to the rim of the tub with his hands. His legs waved irresolutely in the air with no apparent unity of motive, and bubbles gurgled about his neck and shoulders.

“Grab his legs!” shouted Clark.

Two cadets obeyed the order, and Clark took out his watch to time the ordeal. The instants that passed seemed like an age.

“Isn’t time up?” whispered Saunders.

“Shut up, you fool, haven’t I got my watch open?” replied Clark. “But, good heavens!” he added, “take him out⁠—I believe my watch has stopped.” And he shook it and put it to his ear.

Sam was hauled out and laid on the grass, but he was entirely unconscious. His tormentors were thoroughly scared. Fortunately they had all gone through a course of “first aid to the injured,” and they immediately took the proper precautions, holding him up by the feet until the water ran out of his mouth and nose, and then rolling him on the tub and manipulating his arms. At last some faint indications of breathing set in, and they concluded to carry him down to his tent. Using two boards as a stretcher, six of them acted as bearers, and the procession moved toward the camp. Cleary would have been forgotten, had he not asked them to untie him, which they did, and he followed behind, walking most stiffly. As they neared the camp the party separated. Two of the strongest took Sam, whose mind was wandering, to his tent, and Clark made Cleary come and spend the night with him, lest anxiety at Sam’s condition might impel him to report the matter to the authorities. How they all got to their tents in safety, and how the password happened to be known to all of them, we must leave it to the officers in command at East Point to explain. Sam was dropped upon his bunk without much consideration. The two cadets waited long enough to make sure that he was breathing, and then they decamped.

“It’s really a shame,” said Smith to Saunders, who tented with him, before he turned over to sleep; “it’s really a shame to leave that fellow there without a doctor, but we’d all get bounced if it got out.”

III Love and Combat

At reveille the next morning, as the roll was called in the company street, Private Jinks did not answer to his name. They found him in his tent delirious and in a high fever. His pillow was a puddle of water. It was necessary to have him taken to the hospital, and before long he was duly installed there in a small separate room. The captain of his company instituted an inquiry into the causes of his illness and reported that he had undoubtedly fainted away and thrown water over himself to bring himself to. The surgeon in charge of the hospital thereupon certified that this was the case, and in this way bygones officially became bygones. It was late in the afternoon before Sam recovered consciousness. A negro soldier, who had been detailed to act as hospital orderly, was adjusting his bedclothes, and Sam opened his eyes.

“Gettin’ better, Massa Jinks?” said the man, smiling his good will.

“Company Jinks, all present and accounted for,” cried Sam, saluting as if he were a first sergeant on parade.

“You’re here in de hospital, Massa,” said the man, who was known as Mose; “you ain’t on parade sure.”

Sam looked round inquiringly.

“Is this the hospital?” he asked. “Why am I in the hospital?”

“You’ve been hurtin’ yourself somehow,” answered Mose with a low chuckle. “There’s lots of fourth-class men hurts themselves. But you’ll be all right in a week.”

“In