Kaiuolani

Amazed and terror stricken everybody cowered or ran to cover under stress of Cole’s surprising growth. Upon the floor or in the lobbies his will soon came to resolving their actions, and without questioning motives or denying the inspiration every man not in sympathy with stagnation found himself unknowingly and irrevocably bound to a single dictation.

The division seemed fairly made; with few exceptions the hopeful, progressive whites were rallied and driven as only progress demands. The natives still groped in darkness. Their Messiah did not materialize.

From behind an abandoned throne the queen feebly protested, but Cole read the new declaration aloud from the court house steps, and without a dissenting voice (none being permitted such, except he swore allegiance to the new regime) was elected president, and Young turned his attention to larger doings.

“This new Fourth of July only marks the beginning of my career,” said he, earnestly but discreetly, to Norton, a few days after the date of their proclaimed, independence.

They were sitting on the upper veranda, at the big hotel where Norton lived and chose to entertain. The deposed Royal Band occupied a stand in the foreground—they were now glad of a living and played with energy, but the melody of an unforgotten past ladened each strain with yearnings that reached and touched the heart cords of defeated and victorious alike.

“I wish the management would dispense with that out-of-date music,” replied Norton, purposely ignoring Young’s remark; “I hate bygones, and these poor Hawaiians rouse unpleasant memories.”

“You are too hard, altogether, Norton,” remarked Young, concernedly. “Give them a chance—they are but finding their level.”

“General, have you forgotten? It is ‘Martha’ you are addressing.”

“Oh, yes; excuse me; ‘Martha’ it is, as promised. Well Martha, as I was saying, these people must live;—there is no occasion, that I know of, for their extermination;—and, as they prove their fitness, I have a mind to take them over.”

“Kaiuolani, as well?” ventured Norton, facetiously.

“Bender shall attend to her—if he succeeds in escaping me: I hear he is leaving on the next steamer.”

Norton made no reply, though Young, in a polite manner, stared her fairly out of countenance. He wanted Bender rid of, and knew of no better or swifter means than permitting or inducing a voluntary or devised going abroad. Once out, he himself should take care to see that he did not soon return, if at all: Kaiuolani would not; she had no reason for the doing of so rash a thing.

Presently a messenger ran up and, saluting, said:

“His excellency, the president, desires your presence at the mansion.”

“Tell Cole that I shall be at army headquarters within a short half-hour.”

“I may as well have it out with him, now,” said Young, to Norton, immediately the messenger had gone.

Norton again denied him the satisfaction of a reply. Possibly she may have expected her turn to come next, but if so was most agreeably disappointed; for, admonishing a strict censorship over the press, and hinting the possibility of a speedy marriage between Wayntro and Uena-O-Zan, he arose and bade her a hasty good-afternoon.

The distance from the hotel was not great and Young chose to walk, as he was want to do always, with head down, when alone and burdened with thought.

Presently while rounding a deserted corner, about midway thence, the crack of a rifle startled him into consciousness.

The bullet barely grazed his head, and Young dropped as if dead.

Lying there, unarmed, the suspense drove hard upon him his folly. The ruse, however, availed him, and at the sound of retreating footsteps in the nearby brush the thoroughly frightened general scrambled to his feet and proceeding without further hindrance or harm toward the armory marvelled the experience.

There he found Cole, accompanied by Gutenborj, impatiently waiting.

“What is the meaning of your reply, to a president’s message?” demanded his excellency, hotly.

“It means that hereafter Cole seeks Young, I take it, upon reflection—are you agreed: do you understand, Mr. President?”

“That is, evidently, your interpretation; but, is it right, is it politic?”

“Under the circumstances, yes.”

“Is our republic different from any other—the United States for instance?”

“I hadn’t stopped to think of that: this one, however, is modeled after a pattern strictly mine—I am not particularly interested in the United States, that I know of.”

Cole’s spirit sank. He thought of the army—their government’s only hope—and of how apparently every available recruit had hurried to enlist, and now stood ready and eager to do a risen comrade’s bidding. The very consciousness of Young’s tactics and his own feeble recourse drove cold the thought. Would or could the world learn to accept diplomacy and denounce the brutal exigencies of war? Gutenborj’s frozen countenance sufficed. Man must regenerate. Till then, the cord is broken.

They sat in silence. No one dared answer. Not men, but ambitions were at stake. Young resumed:

“I grant we are only human, therefore let reason guide, if the will move us. You, gentlemen, each one of you, thoroughly representative, have your aims: I have mine. Who shall determine the right?”

“God,” said Cole, reverently.

“And I shall endeavor to gain His decision: the army is at call,—I have no further need in that respect,—but I would have two first class assistants. Are you prepared?”

“For what?” asked Cole, interestedly.

“The building of empire.”

“Where?”

“Here, in Polynesia.”

“But this is a republic?”

“And but the means to an end—as all republics are,” replied Young, with lighter heart.

“Good boy!” shouted Gutenborj, springing to his feet, enthusiastically. “I always believed you should come to some great end. Where do I stand?”

“On the right; I must have funds, first of all: next, men. Cole is left—lieutenant.”

“Truly said, and—accepted.”

“You shall sit with the gods, for as men sacrifice they reap.”

Here were three men planning the destinies of a nation,—of nations, as time should prove,—two of whom did as one willed. They were but flesh and blood,—as others are,—of about the same stature, mentally and morally. Born of conventional parentage, bred in the belief that all men are equal, inspired with notions of progress, they had in some unaccountable way converged at a common point, under favorable auspices. What should we call it?

Young believed that individual will power were enough to raise every man to any height—as measured by standards proportionately co-ordinating in accidental opportunity.

The world seemed good to live in, a prison had taught him severely the lesson of conscience, and with no other fear than failure he would drive hard the limit of a self-provisioned endurance.

The light that radiated round his little sphere served truly as a beacon at night.

But day dawned.

In America, where men’s hearts aimed at liberty,—the master that heeds no other god than truth,—a force already builded, created opportunity, and willed not at all beyond the ken of presidents or leaders. Kaiuolani saw more and knew better than Young verily imagined.