didn’t know you had ever lent your sword to an oppressed people,” murmured Atwood, from the grass.
“I did,” said Clancy; “and they turned it into a ploughshare.”
“What country was so fortunate as to secure your aid?” airily inquired Blanchard.
“Where’s Kamchatka?” asked Clancy, with seeming irrelevance.
“Why, off Siberia somewhere in the Arctic regions,” somebody answered, doubtfully.
“I thought that was the cold one,” said Clancy, with a satisfied nod. “I’m always gettin’ the two names mixed. ’Twas Guatemala, then — the hot one — I’ve been filibusterin’ with. Ye’ll find that country on the map. ’Tis in the district known as the tropics. By the foresight of Providence, it lies on the coast so the geography man could run the names of the towns off into the water. They’re an inch long, small type, composed of Spanish dialects, and, ’tis my opinion, of the same system of syntax that blew up the Maine. Yes, ’twas that country I sailed against, singlehanded, and endeavoured to liberate it from a tyrannical government with a single-barreled pickaxe, unloaded at that. Ye don’t understand, of course. ’Tis a statement demandin’ elucidation and apologies.
“’Twas in New Orleans one morning about the first of June; I was standin’ down on the wharf, lookin’ about at the ships in the river. There was a little steamer moored right opposite me that seemed about ready to sail. The funnels of it were throwin’ out smoke, and a gang of roustabouts were carryin’ aboard a pile of boxes that was stacked up on the wharf. The boxes were about two feet square, and somethin’ like four feet long, and they seemed to be pretty heavy.
“I walked over, careless, to the stack of boxes. I saw one of them had been broken in handlin’. ’Twas curiosity made me pull up the loose top and look inside. The box was packed full of Winchester rifles. ‘So, so,’ says I to myself; ‘somebody’s gettin’ a twist on the neutrality laws. Somebody’s aidin’ with munitions of war. I wonder where the popguns are goin’?’
“I heard somebody cough, and I turned around. There stood a little, round, fat man with a brown face and white clothes, a first-class-looking little man, with a four-karat diamond on his finger and his eye full of interrogations and respects. I judged he was a kind of foreigner — may be from Russia or Japan or the archipelagoes.
“‘Hist!’ says the round man, full of concealments and confidences. ‘Will the señor respect the discoveryments he has made, that the mans on the ship shall not be acquaint? The señor will be a gentleman that shall not expose one thing that by accident occur.’
“‘Monseer,’ says I — for I judged him to be a kind of Frenchman— ‘receive my most exasperated assurances that your secret is safe with James Clancy. Furthermore, I will go so far as to remark, Veev la Liberty — veev it good and strong. Whenever you hear of a Clancy obstructin’ the abolishment of existin’ governments you may notify me by return mail.’
“‘The señor is good,’ says the dark, fat man, smilin’ under his black mustache. ‘Wish you to come aboard my ship and drink of wine a glass.’
“Bein’ a Clancy, in two minutes me and the foreigner man were seated at a table in the cabin of the steamer, with a bottle between us. I could hear the heavy boxes bein’ dumped into the hold. I judged that cargo must consist of at least 2,000 Winchesters. Me and the brown man drank the bottle of stuff, and he called the steward to bring another. When you amalgamate a Clancy with the contents of a bottle you practically instigate secession. I had heard a good deal about these revolutions in them tropical localities, and I begun to want a hand in it.
“‘You goin’ to stir things up in your country, ain’t you, monseer?’ says I, with a wink to let him know I was on.
“‘Yes, yes,’ said the little man, pounding his fist on the table. ‘A change of the greatest will occur. Too long have the people been oppressed with the promises and the never-to-happen things to become. The great work it shall be carry on. Yes. Our forces shall in the capital city strike of the soonest. Carrambos!’
“‘Carrambos is the word,’ says I, beginning to invest myself with enthusiasm and more wine, ‘likewise veeva, as I said before. May the shamrock of old — I mean the banana-vine or the pie-plant, or whatever the imperial emblem may be of your downtrodden country, wave forever.’
“‘A thousand thankyous,’ says the round man, ‘for your emission of amicable utterances. What our cause needs of the very most is mans who will the work do, to lift it along. Oh, for one thousands strong, good mans to aid the General De Vega that he shall to his country bring those success and glory! It is hard — oh, so hard to find good mans to help in the work.’
“‘Monseer,’ says I, leanin’ over the table and graspin’ his hand, ‘I don’t know where your country is, but me heart bleeds for it. The heart of a Clancy was never deaf to the sight of an oppressed people. The family is filibusterers by birth, and foreigners by trade. If you can use James Clancy’s arms and his blood in denudin’ your shores of the tyrant’s yoke they’re yours to command.’
“General De Vega was overcome with joy to confiscate my condolence of his conspiracies and predicaments. He tried to embrace me across the table, but his fatness, and the wine that had been in the bottles, prevented. Thus was I welcomed into the ranks of filibustery. Then the general man told me his country had the name of Guatemala, and was the greatest nation laved by any ocean whatever anywhere. He looked at me with tears in his eyes, and from time to time he would emit the remark, ‘Ah! big, strong, brave mans! That is what my country need.’
“General De Vega, as was the name by which he denounced himself, brought out a document for me to sign, which I did, makin’ a fine flourish and curlycue with the tail of the ‘y.’
“‘Your passage-money,’ says the general, businesslike, ‘shall from your pay be deduct.’
“‘Twill not,’ says I, haughty. ‘I’ll pay my own passage.’ A hundred and eighty dollars I had in my inside pocket, and ’twas no common filibuster I was goin’ to be, filibusterin’ for me board and clothes.
“The steamer was to sail in two hours, and I went ashore to get some things together I’d need. When I came aboard I showed the general with pride the outfit. ’Twas a fine Chinchilla overcoat, Arctic overshoes, fur cap and earmuffs, with elegant fleece-lined gloves and woolen muffler.
“‘Carrambos!’ says the little general. ‘What clothes are these that shall go to the tropic?’ And then the little spalpeen laughs, and he calls the captain, and the captain calls the purser, and they pipe up the chief engineer, and the whole gang leans against the cabin and laughs at Clancy’s wardrobe for Guatemala.
“I reflects a bit, serious, and asks the general again to denominate the terms by which his country is called. He tells me, and I see then that ’twas the t’other one, Kamchatka, I had in mind. Since then I’ve had difficulty in separatin’ the two nations in name, climate and geographic disposition.
“I paid my passage — twenty-four dollars, first cabin — and ate at table with the officer crowd. Down on the lower deck was a gang of second-class passengers, about forty of them, seemin’ to be Dagoes and the like. I wondered what so many of them were goin’ along for.
“Well, then, in three days we sailed alongside that Guatemala. ’Twas a blue country, and not yellow as ’tis miscolored
