The Unspeakable Perk by Samuel Hopkins Adams
X
THE FOLLY OF PERK
Of the comprehensive superiority of the American Legation over the GranHotel Kast there could be no shadow of a doubt. From the moment of theirarrival at noon of the day after the British Minister's warning, therefugees found themselves comfortable and content, Miss Brewster havingquietly and tactfully taken over the management of internal affairs andreigning, at Sherwen's request, as generalissima. No disturbance hadmarked the transfer to their new abode. In fact, so wholly lacking wasany evidence of hostility to the foreigners on the part of the crowdson the streets that the Brewsters rather felt themselves to be extortinghospitality on false pretenses. Sherwen, however, exhibited signalrelief upon seeing them safely housed.
"Please stay that way, too," he requested.
"But it seems so unnecessary, and I want to market," protested MissPolly.
"By no means! The market is the last place where any of us should beseen. It is in that section that Urgante has been doing his work."
"Who is he?"
"A wandering demagogue and cheap politician. Abuse of the 'Yankis'is his stock in trade. Somebody has been furnishing him money lately.That's the sole fuel to his fires of oratory."
"Bet the bills smelled of sauerkraut when they reached him," gruntedCluff, striding over to the window of the drawing-room, where theinformal conference was being held.
"They may have had a Hochwaldian origin," admitted Sherwen. "But itwould be difficult to prove."
"At least the Hochwald Legation wouldn't shed any tears over ademonstration against us," said Carroll.
"Well within the limits of diplomatic truth," smiled the Americanofficial.
"Pooh!" Mr. Brewster puffed the whole matter out of consideration. "Idon't believe a word of it. Some of my acquaintances at the club, menin high governmental positions, assure me that there is no anti-Americanfeeling here."
"Very likely they do. Frankness and plain-speaking being, as youdoubtless know, the distinguishing mark of the Caracunan statesman."
The sarcasm was not lost upon Mr. Brewster, but it failed to shake hisskepticism.
"There are some business matters that require that I should go to theoffice of the Ferro carril del Norte this afternoon," he said.
"I beg that you do nothing of the sort," cried Sherwen sharply.
The magnate hesitated. He glanced out of the window and along thestreet, close bounded by blank-walled houses, each with its eyes closedagainst the sun. A solitary figure strode rapidly across it.
"There's that bug-hunting fellow again," said Mr. Brewster. "He's anAmerican, I guess,--God save the mark! Nobody seems to be interferingwith HIM, and he's freaky enough looking to start a riot on Broadway."
Further comment was checked by the voice of the scientist at the door,asking to see Mr. Sherwen at once. Miss Polly immediately slipped out ofthe room to the patio, followed by Carroll and Cluff.
"My business, probably," remarked Mr. Brewster. "I'll just stay andsee." And he stayed.
So far as the newcomer was concerned, however, he might as well nothave been there; so he felt, with unwonted injury. The scientist,disregarding him wholly, shook hands with Sherwen.
"Have you heard from Wisner yet?"
"Yes. An hour ago."
"What was his message?"
"All right, any time to-day."
"Good! Better get them down to-night, then, so they can start to-morrowmorning."
"Will Stark pass them?"
"Under restrictions. That's all been seen to."
At this point it appeared to Mr. Brewster that he had figured as acipher quite long enough.
"Am I right in assuming that you are talking of my party's departure?"he inquired.
"Yes," said Sherwen. "The Dutch will let you through the blockade."
"Then my cablegram reached the proper parties at Washington," said themagnate, with an I-knew-it-would-be-that-way air.
"Thanks to Mr. Perkins."
"Of course, of course. That will be--er--suitably attended to later."
The Unspeakable Perk turned and regarded him fixedly; but, owing to thegoggles, the expression was indeterminable.
"The fact is it would be more convenient for me to go day afterto-morrow than to-morrow."
"Then you'd better rent a house," was the begoggled one's sharp andbrief advice.
"Why so?" queried the great man, startled.
"Because if you don't get out to-morrow, you may not get out formonths."
"As I understand the Dutch permit, it specifies AFTER to-day."
"It isn't a question of the Dutch. Caracuna City goes under quarantineto-night, and Puerto del Norte to-morrow, as soon as proper officialnotification can be given."
"Then plague has actually been found?"
"Determined by bacteriological test this morning."
"How do you know?"
"I was present at the finding."
"Who did it? Dr. Pruyn?"
The other nodded.
Sherwen whistled.
"Better make ready to move, Mr. Brewster," he advised. "You can't getout of port after quarantine is on. At least, you couldn't get into anyother port, even if you sailed, because your sailing-master wouldn'thave clearance papers."
The magnate smiled.
"I hardly think that any United States Consul, with a due regard for hisfuture, would refuse papers to the yacht Polly," he observed.
"Don't be a fool!"
Thatcher Brewster all but jumped from his chair. That this adjurationshould have come from the freakish spectacle-wearer seemed impossible.Yet Sherwen, the only other person in the room, was certainly notguilty.
"Did you address me, young man?"
"I did."
"Do you know, sir, that since boyhood no person has dared or would dareto call me a fool?"
"Well, I don't want to set a fashion," said the other equably. "I'm onlyadvising you not to be."
"Keep your advice until it's wanted."
"If it were a question of you alone, I would. But there are others to beconsidered. Now, listen, Mr. Brewster: Wisner and Stark wouldn't let youthrough that quarantine, after it's declared, if you were the Secretaryhimself. A point is being stretched in giving you this chance. If you'llagree to ship a doctor,--Stark will find you one,--stay out for six fulldays before touching anywhere, and, if plague develops, make at oncefor any detention station specified by the doctor, you can go. Those areStark's conditions."
"Damnable nonsense!" declared Mr. Brewster, jumping to his feet, quitered in the face.
"Let me warn you, Mr. Brewster," put in Sherwen, with quiet force, "thatyou are taking a most unwise course. I am advised that Mr. Perkins isacting under instructions from our consulate."
"You say that Dr. Pruyn is here. I want to see him before--"
"How can you see him? Nobody knows where he is keeping himself. Ihaven't seen him yet myself. Now, Mr. Brewster, just sit down and talkthis over reasonably with Mr. Perkins."
"Oh, no," said the third conferee positively; "I've no time forargument. At six o'clock I 'll be back here. Unless you decide by then,I'll telephone the consulate that the whole thing is off."
"Of all the impudent, conceited, self-important young whippersnappers!"fumed Mr. Brewster. But he found that he had no audience, as Sherwen hadfollowed the scientist out of the room.
Before the afternoon was over, the American concessionnaire had come torealize that the situation was less assured than he had thought.Twice the British Minister had come, and there had been calls from therepresentatives of several other nationalities. Von Plaanden, in fulluniform and girt with the short saber that is the special and privilegedarm of the crack cavalry regiment to which he belonged at home, haddismounted to deliver personally a huge bouquet for Miss Brewster, fromthe garden of the Hochwald Legation, not even asking to see the girl,but merely leaving the flowers as a further expression of his almostdaily apology, and riding on to an official review at the military park.
He had spoken
"Bolas are rolling around like balls on a billiard table," said youngRaimonda, who had come after luncheon to call on Miss Brewster. "In thispart of the city there will be nothing. You needn't be alarmed."
"I'm not afraid," said Miss Polly.
"I'm sure of it," declared the Caracunan, with admiration. "You are verywonderful, you American women."
"Oh, no. It's only that we love excitement," she laughed.
"Ah, that is all very well, for a bull-fight or 'la boxe.' But for oneof our street emeutes--no; too much!"
They were seated on the roof of the half-story of the house, which hadbeen made into a trellised porch overlooking the patio in the rear andthe street in front, an architectural wonder in that city of dead wallsflush with the sidewalk line all the way up. Leaning over the rail,the visitor pointed through the leaves of a small gallito tree to abroad-fronted building almost opposite.
"That is my club. You have other friends there who would do anything foryou, as I would, so gladly," he added wistfully. "Will you honor me byaccepting this little whistle? It is my hunting-whistle. And if thereshould be anything--but I think there will not--you will blow it, andthere will be plenty to answer. If not, you will keep it, please, toremember one who will not forget you."
Handsome and elegant and courtly he was, a true chevalier of adventurouspioneering stock, sprung from the old proud Spanish blood, but therestole behind the girl's vision, as she bade him farewell, the undesiredphantasm of a very different face, weary and lined and lighted bysteadfast gray eyes--eyes that looked truthful and belonged to a liar!Miss Polly Brewster resumed her final packing in a fume of rage atherself.
All hands among the visitors passed the afternoon dully. Mr. Brewster,who had finally yielded to persuasion and decided not to venture out,though still deriding the restriction as the merest nonsense, was in amood of restless silence, which his irrepressible daughter described toFitzhugh Carroll as "the superior sulks."
Carroll himself kept pretty much aloof. He had the air of a man whowrestles with a problem. Cluff fussed and fretted and privately cursedthe country and all its concessions. Between calls and the telephone,Sherwen was kept constantly busy. But a few minutes before six, central,in the blandest Spanish, regretted to inform him that Puerto del Nortewas cut off. When would service be resumed? Quien sabe? It was an order.Hasta manana. To-morrow, perhaps. Smoothing a furrow from his brow, thesight of which would have done nobody any good, he suggested that theyall gather on the roof porch for a swizzle. The suggestion was hailedwith enthusiasm.
Thus, when the Unspeakable Perk came hustling down the street someminutes earlier than the appointed time, he was hailed in Sherwen'svoice, and bidden to come directly up. No time, on this occasion,for Miss Polly to escape. She decided in one breath to ignore the manentirely; in the next to bow coldly and walk out; in the next to--He wasthere before the latest wavering decision could be formulated.
"Better all get inside," he said a little breathlessly. "There may betrouble."
Cluff brightened perceptibly.
"What kind of trouble?"
"Urgante is leading a mob up this way. They're turning the corner now."
"I'm going to wait and see them," cried Miss Polly, with decision.
"Bend over, then, all of you," ordered Sherwen. "The vines will coveryou if you keep down."
Around the corner, up the hill from where they were, streamed a rabbleof boys, leaping and whooping, and after them a more compact crowd ofmen, shoeless, centering on a tall, broad, heavy-mustached fellow whobore on a short staff the Stars and Stripes.
"Where on earth did he get that?" cried Sherwen.
"Looted the Bazaar Americana," replied Perkins.
"That's Urgante," growled Cluff; "that devil with the flag."
"But he seems to be eulogizing it," cried the girl.
The orator had set down his bright burden, wedging it in the iron guardrailing of a tree, and was now apostrophizing it with extravagantbows and honeyed accents in which there was an undertone of hiss. Forconfirmation, Miss Polly turned to the others. The first face her eyesfell on was that of the ball-player. Every muscle in it was drawn, andfrom the tightened lips streamed such whispered curses as the girl neverbefore had heard. Next him stood the hermit, solid and still, but witha queer spreading pallor under his tan. In front of them Sherwen wascrouched, scowlingly alert. The expression of Mr. Brewster and Carroll,neither of whom understood Spanish, betokened watchful puzzlement.
Enlightenment burst upon them the next minute. From the motley crowdbelow rose a snarl of laughter and savage jeering, the object of whichwas unmistakable.
"By G--d!" cried Mr. Brewster, straightening up and grasping therailing. "They're insulting the flag!"
"I've left my pistol!" muttered Carroll, white-lipped. "I've left mypistol!"
Polly Brewster's hand flew to her belt.
She drew out the automatic and held it toward the Southerner. But it wasnot Carroll's hand that met hers; it was the Unspeakable Perk's.
"No," said he, and he flung the weapon back of him into the patio.
"Oh! Oh!" cried the girl. "You unspeakable coward!"
Carroll jumped forward, but Sherwen was equally quick. He interposed hisslight frame.
"Perkins is right," he said decisively. "No shooting. It would be worththe life of every one here. We've got to stand it. But somebody is goingto sweat blood for this day's work!"
The instinct of discipline, characteristic of the professional athlete,brought Cluff to his support.
"What Mr. Sherwen says, goes," he said, almost choking on the words."We've got to stand it."
In the breast of Miss Polly Brewster was no response to this spirit. Shewas lawless with the lawlessness of unconquered youth and beauty.
"Oh!" she breathed "If I had my pistol back, I'd shoot that BEASTmyself!"
The scientist turned his goggles hesitantly upon her.
"Miss Brewster," he began, "please don't think--"
"Don't speak to me!" she cried.
Another clamor of derision sounded from the street as Urgante resumedthe standard of his mockery and led his rabble forward. Behind thedull-colored mass appeared a spot of splendor. It was Von Plaanden,gorgeous in his full regalia, who had turned the corner, returning fromthe public reception. Well back of the mob, he pulled his horse up,and sat watching. The coincidence was unfortunate. It seemed to justifySherwen's bitter words:--
"Come to visa his work. There's the Hochwaldian for you!"
Forward danced and reeled the "Yanki" baiters below, until they wereunder the balcony where the little group of Americans sheltered andraged silently. There the orator again spewed forth his contempt uponthe alien banner, and again the ranks behind him shrieked their approvalof the affront. Miss Polly Brewster, American of Americans, whosegreat-grandfathers had fought with Herkimer and Steuben,--themselves thesons of women who had stood by the loopholes of log houses and caughtup the rifles of their fallen pioneer husbands, wherewith to return thefire of the besieging Mohawks,--ran forward to the railing, snatchingher skirt from the detaining grasp of her father. In the corner stooda huge bowl of roses. Gathering both hands full, she leaned forwardand flung them, so that they fell in a shower of loveliness upon theinsulted flag of her nation.
For an instant silence fell upon the "great unwashed" below. Out of itswelled a muttering as the leader made a low, mocking obeisance to t
No brain is so well ordered, no emotion so thoroughly controlled, butthat under sudden pressure--click!--the mechanism slips a cog andruns amuck. Just that thing happened inside the Unspeakable Perk'ssmooth-running, scientific brain upon incitement of his flag'sdesecration and his lady's grief. To her it seemed that he shot past herhorizontally like a human dart. The next second he was over the railing,had swung from a branch of the neighboring tree to the trunk, and leapedto the ground, all in one movement of superhuman agility. To the mobhis exploit was apparently without immediate significance. Perhapsthey didn't notice the descent; or perhaps those few who saw were soastonished at the apparition of a chunky tree-man with protuberant eyesscrambling down upon them in the manner of an ape, that they failed toappreciate what it might portend of trouble.
The hermit landed solidly on his feet a few yards from Urgante, theflag bearer. With a berserker yell, he rushed. Taken by surprise, theassailed one still had time to lift the heavy staff. As quickly, theAmerican lowered his head and dove. It may not have been magnificent; itcertainly was not war by the rules; but it was eminently effective. Tosay that the leader went down would be absurdly inadequate. He simplycrumpled. Over and over he rolled on the cobbles, while the smirchedflag flew clear of his grasp, and fell on the farther sidewalk.
"Wow!" yelled Cluff, leaping into the air. "Football! That cost him acouple of ribs. Hey, Rube!"
And he rushed for the stairs, followed by Carroll, Sherwen, and, onlyone jump behind, Mr. Thatcher Brewster, cursing in a manner that didcredit to his patriotism, but would have added no luster to his recordas an elder of the Pioneer Presbyterian Church, of Utica, New York.
Meantime, the Unspeakable Perk, having rolled free of the fallen enemy,staggered to his feet and caught up the flag. Stunned surprise on thepart of the crowd gave him an instant's time. He edged along the curb,hoping to gain the legation door by a rush. But the foe threw out awing, cutting him off. Several eager followers had lifted Urgante, whosegroans and curses suggested a sound basis for Cluff's diagnosis. Himselfquite hors de combat, he spat at the Unspeakable Perk, and cried uponhis henchmen to kill the "Yanki." It seemed not improbable to the latterthat they would do it. Perkins set his back to the wall, twirled theflag folds tight around the pole, reversed and clubbed the staff,and prepared to make any attempt at killing as uncomfortable andunprofitable as possible. The rabble, by no means favorably impressed bythese businesslike proceedings, stood back, growling.
A hand flew up above the crowd. The Unspeakable Perk ducked sharply andjust in time, as a knife struck the wall above him and clattered tothe pavement. Instantly he caught it up, but the blade had snapped offshort. As he stooped, one bold spirit rushed in. Perkins met him with astraight lance-thrust of the staff, which sent him reeling and shriekingwith pain back to his fellows. But now another knife, and another,struck and fell from the wall at his back; badly aimed both, butpresumably the forerunners of missiles, some of which would show bettermarksmanship. The assailed man cast a swift, desperate look about him;the crowd closed in a little. Obviously he must keep "eyes front."
"To your left! To your left!" The voice came to him clear and sweetabove the swelling growl of the rabble. "The doorway! Get into thedoorway, Mr. Beetle Man."
A few paces away, how far Perkins could only guess, was the entrance tothe house. He surmised that, like many of the better-class houses, ithad a small set-in door, at right angles to the main entrance, thatwould serve as a shallow shelter. Without raising his eyes, he noddedcomprehension, and began to edge along the wall, swinging his stoutweapon. As he went, he wondered what was keeping the others. At thatmoment the others were frantically wrestling with the all-too-adequatebars with which Sherwen had reinforced the wide door.
Perkins, feeling with a cautious heel, found himself opposite the entryindicated by the voice. Turning, he darted into the narrow embrasure.Here he was comparatively safe from the missiles that were now comingfrom all directions. On the other hand, he now lacked room to swing hisformidable club. The peons, with a shout, closed in to arm's length.Alone on her balcony, the girl turned her head away and cried aloud,hopelessly, for help. She wanted to close her ears against the bestialshouts of a mob trampling to death a defenseless man, but her arms wereof lead. She listened and shivered.
Instead of the sound that she dreaded there came the ringing of hoofson stones, followed by yells of alarm. She opened her eyes to see VonPlaanden, bent forward in his saddle at the exact angle proper tothe charge, urging his great horse down upon the mass of people asruthlessly as if they had been so many insects. Through the circle hebroke, swinging his mount around beside the shallow doorway beforewhich three Caracunans already lay sprawled, attesting the vigor of thedefender's final resistance. Back of the horseman lay half a dozen otherfigures. The Hochwaldian jerked out his sword and stood, a splendidspectacle. Very possibly he was not wholly unmindful of his ownpictorial quality or of the lovely American witness thereto.
His intervention gave a few seconds' respite, one of those checksthat save battles and make history. Now, in the further making of thisparticular history, sounded a lusty whoop from the opposite direction;such a battle slogan as only the Anglo-Saxon gives. It emanated fromGalpy the bounder, bounding now, indeed, at full speed up the slope,followed by two of his fellow railroad men, flannel-clad and stillperspiring from their afternoon's cricket. Against bare legs a cricketbat is a highly dissuasive argument. The Britons swung low and hard forthe ancient right of the breed to break into a row wherever white menare in the minority against other races. The downhill wing of the mobbeing much the weakest, opened up for them with little resistance,leaving them a free path to the cavalryman, to whose side Perkins, withstaff ready brandished, had advanced from his shelter.
"Wot's the merry game?" inquired the cockney cheerfully.
Before them the crowd swayed and parted, and there appeared, lifted bymany arms, a figure with a dead-white face streaked with blood, runningfrom a great gash in the scalp.
"He went down in front of my horse," explained the Hochwald secretarycoolly.
At the sight, there rose from the crowd a wailing cry, quite differentfrom its former voice. Galpy's teeth set and his cricket bat went up inthe air.
"There'll be killing for this," he said. "I know these blightehs. Thatyell means blood. We must make a bolt for it. Is this all there is ofus?"
At the moment of his asking, it was. One half a second later, it wasn't,as the last of the legation's stubborn bars yielded, the door burstopen, and the four Americans tumbled out at the charge, Cluff yellinginsanely, Carroll in deadly quiet, Sherwen alertly scanning theadversaries for identifiable faces, and Elder Brewster still imperilinghis soul by the fervor of his language. Each was armed with such casualweapons as he had been able to catch up. Carroll, a leap in advance ofthe rest, encountered an Indian drover, half-dodged a swinging blow fromhis whip, and sent him down with a broken shoulder from a chop with abaseball club that he had found in the hallway. A bull-like charge hadcarried Cluff deep among the Caracunans, where he encountered a hugepeon, whom he seized and flung bodily over the iron guard of a samontree, where the man hung, yelling dismally. Two other peons, who hadseized the athlete around the knees, were all but brained by a stonewaregin bottle in the hands of Sherwen. Meanwhile, Mr. Brewster wasperforming prodigies with a niblick which he had extracted, at full run,from a bag opportunely resting against the hat-rack. Almost before theyknew it, the rescue party had broken the intercepting wing of the mob,and had joined the others.
Cluff threw a gorilla-like arm across the Unspeakable Perk's shoulder,
"Hurt, boy?" he cried anxiously.
&nb
"Nobody. We must get back."
Sherwen's cool voice cut in:--
"Close together, now. Keep well up. Herr von Plaanden, will you cover usat the end?"
"It is the post of honor," said the Hochwaldian.
"You've earned it. But for you, they'd have got our colors."
The foreigner bowed, and swung his horse toward a Caracunan who hadpressed forward a little too near. But, for the moment the fight hadoozed out of the mob.
Without mishap the group got across the street, Perkins still clingingto the flag.
Suddenly, from the rear rank, came a shower of stones, followed by thefinal rush. Galpy and Perkins went down. Von Plaanden tottered in hissaddle, but quickly recovered. Instantly Perkins was up again, the bloodstreaming from the side of his head. He was conscious of brown handsclutching at the cricketer, to drag him away. He himself seized thecockney's legs and braced for that absurd and deadly tug of war. ThenVon Plaanden's saber descended, and he was able to haul Galpy back intosafety.
The situation was desperate now. Mr. Brewster was pinned against thewall and disarmed, but still fighting with fist and foot. Half a dozenpeons were struggling with Cluff across the bodies of as many more whomhe had knocked down. Sherwen, almost under the cavalryman's mount, wasprotecting his rear with the fallen Galpy's cricket bat, and the twoother cricketers were fighting back to back on the other side. Carrollwas clubbing his way toward Mr. Brewster, but his weapon was now in hisleft hand. Matters looked dark indeed, when there shrilled fiercely fromabove them the whirring peal of a silver whistle.
Polly Brewster had remembered Raimonda. It seemed a futile signal, foras she ran to the railing and gazed across at the Club Amicitia, she sawall its windows and doors tight closed, as befits an aristocratic clubthat has no concern with the affairs of the rabble. But there is no wayof closing a patio from the top, and sounds can enter readily that way,when all other apertures are shut. Long and loud Miss Polly blew thesignal on the silver hunting-whistle.
In the club patio, Raimonda was chafing and wondering, and a scoreof his friends were drinking and waiting. That signal released theiractivities and terminated the battle of the American Legation mostingloriously for the forces of Urgante. For the gilded youth of Caracunabears a heavy cane of fashion, and carries a ready revolver, also,although not so admittedly as a matter of fashion. Furthermore, he hasa profound contempt for the peon class; a contempt extending to life andlimb. Therefore, when some two dozen young patricians sallied abruptlyforth with their canes, and the mob caught sight, here and there, of aglint of nickel against the black, it gave back promptly. Some desultorystones rattled against the walls. There were answering reports a few,and sundry yells of pain. The army of Urgante broke and fled down theside streets, leaving behind its broken and its wounded. Most of thebullet casualties were below the knee. The Caracunan aristocrat alwaysfires low--the first time.
Shortly thereafter, Miss Polly Brewster appeared upon the balcony ofthe American Legation, and performed an illegal act. Upon a day notdesignated as a Caracunan national holiday, she raised the flag ofan alien nation and fixed it, and the gilded youth of Caracuna in thestreet below cheered, not the flag, which would have been unpatriotic,but the flag-raiser, which was but gallant, until they were hoarse andparched of throat.