Kaiuolani

Anticipating Rand’s report, and waxing eager with determination to do justice and serve his own restricted inclinations, the president duly appointed a successor, and began without delay the preparation of a message asking congress to undo the bold, unquestioned work of Harvenoiq, the nation’s trusted representative at Honolulu.

The American minister’s act, in contriving so serious a thing, as the intervention of the marines, could be looked upon, from an exalted viewpoint, in but one of two ways: as being patriotic or villainous. The president chose the latter; a cold, deliberate consideration of all the facts and circumstances as revealed in truth reasonably permitted of none other, and the forthcoming report of an opponent’s duly accredited and dispassionate commissioner more than justified the conclusion.

Going upon the ground at a time when any sort of an excuse had been agreeable politically, the far seeing Rand found it impossible personally to pursue the veriest kind of partisan examination; the risk of contamination augured too vile even for a diplomat’s consideration. Every inducement seemed consistently winked at by those in authority; lying resorted to by the ones most in danger; the stench excused by everybody who would attune his advantage to the deed: Rand, however, proved unpurchasable or controllable, and went about his work with a deliberation and impartiality that brooked no speculation as to the final outcome.

With hearing the blandishments of intriguers, who hastened to welcome, then deigned revile; listening to the complaints of others wronged, yet unwilling to concede the inevitable; and searching for a common ground on which to do justice and open the eyes of the administration at Washington,—amid circumstances almost disheartening,—the hard-pushed and ill-adjudged commissioner soon found his task even more thankless there—where, upon the whole, they had reason to trust and encourage a truthful investigation—than the report should be unsatisfying at home, in view of a changed and fomented political situation.

“We demand to know the purport of your recommendations,” ventured Gutenborj,—with the old-time audacity that he was want to employ,—heading a delegation of conservatives who threatened a final appeal.

Rand bore the last straw with such dignity and patience as under the circumstances a more politic man might be expected to muster. Neither disinterestedness nor a lack of sympathy prevented him from concluding his labors as begun: with honesty of purpose and faithfulness to the trust imposed.

Answering adroitly, the surprised representative of a supposedly indifferent people quietly said:

“It is not my province, good sir, to recommend: I am here only to report the facts, in so far as obtainable. I should respectfully advise that you address your request to Washington.”

“That is just what we propose to do, when the proper time comes; but, first of all, we as representative citizens insist upon getting you right. Do you understand me, Mr. Commissioner? If anything is lacking—well, you know, we are prepared——”

“Pardon me, Mr. Gutenborj. I have been advised by your good selves as well as others interested that the evidence is all in and the argument concluded. I have, therefore, only to forward proper findings. Please consider the matter closed.”

Rand understood only too well his auditors, and upon their piqued withdrawal paid no more than respectful attention to the scathing rebuke and scurrilous denunciation thereat promised. On the contrary, having exhausted every recourse attainable, the result of a somewhat prolonged investigation was undeniably reduced to writing, signed, sealed and dispatched under cover of the strictest secrecy and most favorable assurances. The commissioner had done all that he could do fairly to advise his superiors, thence quietly awaited a reasonable recall and proper discharge.

Yet, notwithstanding every precaution, no sooner had the document reached its destination than were the coveted contents known in far off Hawaii. As if by magic those least entitled had been forewarned; hence Rand was duly maligned, and Harvenoiq proceeded as best he knew with clearing the way for an unannounced but verily known successor.

Bender and he were closeted in the latter’s local residence: their recent differences had been forgotten or brushed aside as if unknown and unfelt.

“There is but one safe ground on which to stand,” whispered the American, his face whitened, and withered frame shaking from head to foot.

“Young must be gotten rid of,” answered the other, eager with anticipation.

“Yes it is imperative.”

“And how?”

“Don’t tempt me, friend Bender; you know my weakness.”

“A prodigy, good Harvenoiq, to be taken opportunely. Shall I slip the noose?”

“Pray do; I lack only the courage, if hung.”

“As an example? Don’t predict yourself a martyr; the lure of guilt absolves only the doing, the deed the consequence. Act gingerly, old man, and let your knees be worthy a good fellow’s confidence. You know that I am proof, the evidence is yet in your possession.”

Harvenoiq had been fully convinced by Bender that little short of total annihilation awaited him upon the arrival of Langdon, his duly appointed successor, and the restoration of the queen, a consequence easily predicted. Had he known better or stopped to consider the temper of his own people and the possibilities of diplomatic dodging, all this pother about hanging might well have been saved; but Harvenoiq, in the tangle, had lost all control of self and come to regard with fear and trembling Bender’s every suggestion.

On the other hand Young fretted more and harder under an ignominious restraint. He knew full well that nothing short of the most damnable perjury could in the end substantiate the charges laid, yet realized that his apparent tormentors were capable of stooping to any depth to carry their point.

That murder stared him in the face he was wholly unconscious; his duty called him; there seemed no possible means by which he might induce a speedy trial; when tried, though, as he felt in justice bound to be, Norton must stand between danger and himself; she had not once failed under stress, and he believed her sincerely and unalterably bent; the forces that had cornered him must, before he lose, reckon with her, yet Bender’s oily tongue entranced him.

It was not quite dead of night and the sentry on his dismal beat peered into the dark, moody fog that overhung the stilled rounds of his ominous watch.

“Who goes there?” cried he, his lone words barely rising above the levelled rifle’s dull whack.

“A friend,” answered a familiar voice, approaching with fearless, quickened step.

“All’s well,” replied the trusty, doubly relieved, while Bender strode on and into darkness.

Presently Young’s accustomed ear discerned an expected approach, and two huskies retired into a welcome corner, there to snooze and snore till more urgent business roused them to a less tasteful duty.

“I thought you not coming; the hour is so late and the night gloomy,” said Young, his heart thumping with renewed anticipation.

“Sh-h-h-don’t speak of gloom; it’s a gloomy business; everything is gloom, and the end shall be still more gloomy if we don’t get at it and out at once. Here is a knife: secrete it, and use it if you would escape to-night, my boy. The devil is to pay, all round.”

Young gasped at the thought. He had early enough accustomed himself to the use of manly weapons: this one sickened him. All his life he had shunned the need of personal defence or public offense. What terrible necessity had at last arisen, when all seemed so propitious?

Bender answered.

“I had it hard enough to get the documents——”

“Did you get them? Did you succeed——”

“Yes; I have them, here, securely, on my person; where, I take it, they shall——”

“Give them to me,” demanded Young, gripping tightly the handle of the dirk, which he still held openly, if undecided.

Bender looked his man hard in the face. He had not contemplated any such turn, nor did he on the spur of the moment propose to yield.

“Oh, well,” said he calmly; “if you think it best, here they are: take them. I have no doubt you shall find a way to save their falling again into Harvenoiq’s——”

“Harvenoiq!” whispered Young, turning with bated breath to scan the bolted doors round about him.

“Yes, Harvenoiq,” continued Bender, with subdued satisfaction; “and—I shall have need to hurry away would even I escape him. He is undoubtedly on the way now, and I thought possibly you might have enough to do to save your life, as against him. I, as a friend, unchallenged, should be better able to shield your honor—at least save the papers from certain publicity.”

“What do you mean, man?” demanded his listener, almost choking with rising consciousness.

“There is no time now for parleying, hence listen: Kaiuolani and Harvenoiq were closeted at the legation house when I left to hasten thither. You may judge the risk I ran in obtaining the papers—I trust you do not forget, solely for your benefit—and understand my concern for your safety, both in person and honor, when I tell you that it is planned to kill you, here in this room, this very night, at twelve o’clock. Now then, perhaps you can see that your reputation and my safety depend upon my going: do with the papers as you like.”

“Thieves can trust no one, if not each other. Take them; and, if it serves your own pitiful interests, protect my good name. If not, I still owe you a debt of gratitude for the chance to live. Go.”

Bender hurried away. The very thought of holding in his own hand the only evidence that could possibly stand between him and any success lone ability might encourage quickened the unregenerate, ill-fashioned trend he would pursue.

“At last, an unfettered man!” rose in mind to plunge him toward the freedom craved.

“To the woods, the mountains, the undefiled! Only there—lies the spark that feeds on reality. I’ll claim it, fan it into flame, send onward the crackling, thundering holocaust that rids the earth and purifies the doing. Bender shall survive: Kaiuolani but eke his exultation.”

No man deigned hinder his progress. Ihoas, bent and sore, listened not reluctantly and saw with opened eyes. Together, they flew to the wilds; there to foster pretended rights, and redress a fancied wrong.

Presently, however, Harvenoiq’s underhandedly appointed successor came hauling into port. With trumpet a-blowing and promises galore this half-starved political supplicant, from the interior, would neither listen to the one nor substantiate another of the party factions that wended alternately toward the fawning doors of contemplated recognition or expected rehabilitation.

“I’ll do as duty bids me,” said he, over-proud and uncomfortably explicit. “What care I for scant foibles and bothersome energy? Americanhood is topmost, and our intentions are no less expedient than privileged: when the flag comes down you’ll know the reason. Coates R. Langdon, Esqr., may look seedy, but he’ll bear boosting. Hie you, Gutenborj; make way for the queen!”

The Royal band played in the open that night, and native daughters riding in oldtime uniforms galloped upon the streets. Sympathizers (many of them new ones) gathered round the queen in plenty. The Provisionalists slunk back or stood counselling one another, for Langdon’s brusque deliberations nonplussed them. They had all, once upon a time, known something of Yankee aptitude, but thenceforth try as best they might nothing short of cold possibility stared them in the face; Kaiuolani had captured Washington.