Shavings | Page 6

Captain Sam Hunniwell, the latter President of the
Orham National Bank and also a vigorous politician, the dislike had
always been strong. Since the affair of the postmastership it had
become, on Babbitt's part, an intense hatred. During the week just past
young Babbitt's name had been drawn as one of Orham's quota for the
new National Army. The village was still talking of the draft when the
news came that Captain Hunniwell had been selected as a member of
the Exemption Board for the district, the Board which was to hold its
sessions at Ostable and listen to the pleas of those desiring to be

excused from service. Not all of Orham knew this as yet. Jed Winslow
had heard it, from Captain Sam himself. Gabe Bearse had heard it
because he made it his business to hear everything, whether it
concerned him or not--preferably not.
The war had come to Orham with the unbelievable unreality with
which it had come to the great mass of the country. Ever since the news
of the descent of von Kluck's hordes upon devoted Belgium, in the fall
of 1914, the death grapple in Europe had, of course, been the principal
topic of discussion at the post office and around the whist tables at the
Setuckit Club, where ancient and retired mariners met and pounded
their own and each other's knees while they expressed sulphurous
opinions concerning the attitude of the President and Congress. These
opinions were, as a usual thing, guided by the fact of their holders'
allegiance to one or the other of the great political parties. Captain Sam
Hunniwell, a lifelong and ardent Republican, with a temper as peppery
as the chile con carne upon which, when commander of a steam
freighter trading with Mexico, he had feasted so often--Captain Sam
would have hoisted the Stars and Stripes to the masthead the day the
Lusitania sank and put to sea in a dory, if need be, and armed only with
a shotgun, to avenge that outrage. To hear Captain Sam orate
concerning the neglect of duty of which he considered the United States
government guilty was an experience, interesting or shocking,
according to the drift of one's political or religious creed.
Phineas Babbitt, on the contrary, had at first upheld the policy of strict
neutrality. "What business is it of ours if them furriners take to
slaughterin' themselves?" he wanted to know. He hotly declared the
Lusitania victims plaguey fools who knew what they were riskin' when
they sailed and had got just what was comin' to 'em--that is, he was
proclaiming it when Captain Sam heard him; after that the captain
issued a proclamation of his own and was proceeding to follow words
with deeds. The affair ended by mutual acquaintances leading Captain
Sam from the Babbitt Hardware Company's store, the captain rumbling
like a volcano and, to follow up the simile, still emitting verbal
brimstone and molten lava, while Mr. Babbitt, entrenched behind his
counter, with a monkey wrench in his hand, dared his adversary to lay

hands on a law- abiding citizen.
When the Kaiser and von Tirpitz issued their final ultimatum, however,
and the President called America to arms, Phineas, in company with
others of his breed, appeared to have experienced a change of heart. At
all events he kept his anti-war opinions to himself and, except that his
hatred for the captain was more virulent than ever since the affair of the
postmastership, he found little fault with the war preparations in the
village, the organizing of a Home Guard, the raising of funds for a new
flag and flagpole and the recruiting meeting in the town hall.
At that meeting a half dozen of Orham's best young fellows had
expressed their desire to fight for Uncle Sam. The Orham band-- minus
its first cornet, who was himself one of the volunteers--had serenaded
them at the railway station and the Congregational minister and Lawyer
Poundberry of the Board of Selectmen had made speeches. Captain
Sam Hunniwell, being called upon to say a few words, had said a
few--perhaps, considering the feelings of the minister and the feminine
members of his flock present, it is well they were not more numerous.
"Good luck to you, boys," said Captain Sam. "I wish to the Almighty I
was young enough to go with you. And say, if you see that Kaiser
anywheres afloat or ashore give him particular merry hell for me, will
you?"
And then, a little later, came the news that the conscription bill had
become a law and that the draft was to be a reality. And with that news
the war itself became a little more real. And, suddenly, Phineas Babbitt,
realizing that his son, Leander, was twenty-five years old and, therefore,
within the limits