The Reporter Who Made Himself King | Page 8

part of the cable is working. That sometimes impresses them,
and they buy stock. There is another chap over in Octavia, who relays
all my messages and all my replies to those messages that come to me
through him from San Francisco. They never send a message unless
they have brought someone to the office whom they want to impress,
and who, they think, has money to invest in the Y.C.C. stock, and so
we never go near the wire, except at three o'clock every afternoon. And
then generally only to say `How are you?' or `It's raining,' or something
like that. I've been saying `It's raining,' now for the last three months,
but to-day I will say that the new consul has arrived. That will be a
pleasant surprise for the chap in Octavia, for he must be tired hearing
about the weather. He generally answers, `Here too,' or `So you said,' or
something like that. I don't know what he says to the home office. He's
brighter than I am, and that's why they put him between the two ends.
He can see that the messages are transmitted more fully and more
correctly, in a way to please possible subscribers."
"Sort of copy editor," suggested Albert.
"Yes, something of that sort, I fancy," said Stedman.
They walked down to the little shed on the shore, where the Y.C.C.
office was placed, at three that day, and Albert watched Stedman send
off his message with much interest. The "chap at Octavia," on being
informed that the American consul had arrived at Opeki, inquired,
somewhat disrespectfully, "Is it a life sentence?"
"What does he mean by that?" asked Albert.
"I suppose," said his secretary, doubtfully, "that he thinks it a sort of a
punishment to be sent to Opeki. I hope you won't grow to think so."
"Opeki is all very well," said Gordon, "or it will be when we get things
going our way."

As they walked back to the office, Albert noticed a brass cannon,
perched on a rock at the entrance to the harbor. This had been put there
by the last consul, but it had not been fired for many years. Albert
immediately ordered the two Bradleys to get it in order, and to rig up a
flag-pole beside it, for one of his American flags, which they were to
salute every night when they lowered it at sundown.
"And when we are not using it," he said, "the King can borrow it to
celebrate with, if he doesn't impose on us too often. The royal salute
ought to be twenty-one guns, I think; but that would use up too much
powder, so he will have to content himself with two."
"Did you notice," asked Stedman, that night, as they sat on the veranda
of the consul's house, in the moonlight, "how the people bowed to us as
we passed?"
"Yes," Albert said he had noticed it. "Why?"
"Well, they never saluted me," replied Stedman. "That sign of respect is
due to the show we made at the reception."
"It is due to us, in any event," said the consul, severely. "I tell you, my
secretary, that we, as the representatives of the United States
Government, must be properly honored on this island. We must
become a power. And we must do so without getting into trouble with
the King. We must make them honor him, too, and then as we push him
up, we will push ourselves up at the same time."
"They don't think much of consuls in Opeki," said Stedman, doubtfully.
"You see the last one was a pretty poor sort. He brought the office into
disrepute, and it wasn't really until I came and told them what a fine
country the United States was, that they had any opinion of it at all.
Now we must change all that."
"That is just what we will do," said Albert. "We will transform Opeki
into a powerful and beautiful city. We will make these people work.
They must put up a palace for the King, and lay out streets, and build
wharves, and drain the town properly, and light it. I haven't seen this

patent lighting apparatus of yours, but you had better get to work at it at
once, and I'll persuade the King to appoint you commissioner of
highways and gas, with authority to make his people toil. And I," he
cried, in free enthusiasm, "will organize a navy and a standing army.
Only," he added, with a relapse of interest, "there isn't anybody to
fight."
"There isn't?" said Stedman, grimly, with a scornful smile. "You just go
hunt up old Messenwah and the Hillmen with your standing army once
and you'll get all the fighting you want."
"The Hillmen?" said Albert.
"The Hillmen