The Ne'er-Do-Well

by Rex Beach

  VII

  THE REWARD OF MERIT

  Facing for the first time in his life an instant and absolute need ofmoney, Kirk found himself singularly lacking in resource; and a periodof sober contemplation brought him no helpful thought. Perhaps, afterall, he decided, his best course would be to seek relief from theCortlandts. Accordingly, he strolled into the offices of the steamshipcompany near by and asked leave to telephone. But on calling up theHotel Tivoli, he was told that his friends were out; nor could he learnthe probable hour of their return. As he hung up the receiver henoticed that the office was closing, and, seeing the agent about toquit the place, addressed him:

  "I'd like to ask a favor."

  "What is it?"

  "Will you introduce me to the best hotel in town? I have friends inPanama City, but they're out and it's getting late."

  "There isn't a good hotel here, but you don't need an introduction;just walk in. They're not full."

  "I'm broke, and I have no baggage."

  "Don't you know anybody?"

  "I know the American consul--been stopping at his house for a week--buthe threw me out."

  A great light seemed suddenly to dawn upon the agent. "Oh, you'reLocke!" said he, with the air of one who detects a fraud too obvious tobe taken seriously. "Now I understand. The purser on the Santa Cruztold me about you. Sorry I can't help you, but I'm a salaried man."

  "I've got to sleep," stoutly maintained the other. "Somebody will haveto take care of me; I can't sit up all night."

  "See here, my friend, I don't know what your game is, but you can'tsting me." The agent finished locking up, then walked away, leaving hisvisitor to reflect anew upon the average human being's ignoble lack offaith in his fellows.

  It was growing dark. From farther down the water-front the lights ofthe Wayfarers Club shone invitingly, and Kirk decided to appeal therefor assistance. In spite of Weeks's warning, he felt sure he couldprevail upon some of the members to tide him over for the night, but ashe neared the place he underwent a sudden change of heart. Slowlymounting the stairs ahead of him like a trained hippopotamus was thecolossal, panting figure of the American consul, at sight of whichKirk's pride rose up in arms and forbade him to follow. Doubtless Weekshad spread his story broadcast; it was manifestly impossible for him toappeal to his recent card partners--they would believe he haddeliberately imposed upon them. It was humiliating, yet there seemednothing to do except to await the Cortlandts' return, and, if he failedto reach them by telephone, to spend the night in the open. It occurredto him that he might try to locate Stein or some other of his latefellow-passengers, but they were probably scattered across the Isthmusby this time.

  A band was playing in the plaza when he came back--a very good band,too--and, finding a bench, he allowed his mind the relief of idlylistening to the music. The square was filling with Spanish people, whosoon caught and held his attention, recalling Mrs. Cortlandt's wordsregarding the intermixture of bloods in this country; for everyimaginable variety of mongrel breed looked out from the loiteringcrowd. But no matter what the racial blend, black was the fundamentaltone. Undeniably the Castilian strain was running out; not onepasser-by in ten seemed really white. Naturally, there was no colorline. Well-dressed girls, evidently white, or nearly so, went arm andarm with wenches as black as night; men of every shade fraternizedfreely.

  It was a picturesque and ever-changing scene. Kirk saw dark-faced girlswearing their unfailing badge of maidenhood--a white mantilla--followedinvariably at a distance by respectful admirers who never presumed towalk beside them; wives whom marriage had forced to exchange the whiteshawl for the black, escorted by their husbands; huge, slouchingJamaican negroes of both sexes; silent-footed, stately Barbadians whogave a touch of savagery to the procession. Some of the women woregiant firebugs, whose glowing eyes lent a ghostly radiance to hair orlace, at once weird and beautiful. Round and round the people walked tothe strains of their national music, among them dozens upon dozens ofthe ever-present little black-and-tan policemen, who constitute therepublic's standing army.

  As the evening drew on, Kirk became conscious of an unwonted sensation.Once before he had had the same feeling--while on a moose-trail inMaine. But now there was no guide, with a packful of food, to come tohis relief, and he could not muster up the spirit that enables men tobear vacation hardships with cheerfulness.

  He began to wonder whether a fast of twenty-four hours would seriouslyweaken a man, and, rather than make the experiment, he again called upthe Tivoli, rejoicing anew in the fact that there was no toll onIsthmian messages. But again he was disappointed. This time he was toldthat the Cortlandts were doubtless spending the night out of town withfriends.

  Soon after his second return to the park, the concert ended, the crowdmelted away, and he found himself occupying a bench with a negro ofabout the same age as himself. For perhaps an hour the two sat therehearkening to the dying noises of the city; then Kirk, unable to endurethe monotony longer, turned sharply on his companion and said:

  "Why don't you go home?"

  The negro started, his eyes flew open, then he laughed: "Oh, boss, Igot no home."

  "Really?"

  "No, sar."

  Kirk reflected that he had found not only the right place, but alsofitting company, for his vigil.

  "What does a person do in that case?" he asked.

  "Oh, he goes to work, sar."

  "For the night, I mean. Are you going to stay here until morning?"

  "Yes, sar, if the policeman will h'admit of it."

  The fellow's dialect was so strange that Kirk inquired: "Where did youcome from?"

  "Jamaica, sar. I was barn on the narth coast of the h'island, sar."

  "Did you just arrive here?"

  "Oh, Lard, no! I 'ave been a liver here for two year."

  "A liver!" Kirk could not help smiling.

  "Yes, sar! Sometimes I labor on the docks, again in the h'office. Lahstweek lose I my position, and to-day my room h'also. Landladies is badfemales, sar, very common."

  "You've been shooting craps," said Kirk, accusingly.

  "Crops, sar! What is crops?"

  "You don't know what craps is! I mean you've been gambling."

  "Oh, boss, I h'invest my money."

  "Indeed!"

  "Lahst Sunday nearly won I the big prize. I 'ad h'all but threenumbers."

  "Lottery ticket, eh?"

  "H'eight! H'eight chawnces in all," the negro sighed. "But dreams isfalse, sar."

  "So I've heard. Well, it seems we're in the same boat this beautifulevening. I have no place to sleep, either."

  "You are humbugging me."

  "No, I'm flat broke."

  "Oh, chot me true, mon."

  "I am chatting you true. I'm an outcast of fortune like yourself."

  "Such talk! You make I laugh this house."

  "What?"

  "You make I laugh," repeated the other in a broad Devonshire dialect."Praise God, you h'appear like a gentleman."

  "I trust this little experience will not permanently affect my socialstanding. By-the-way, what is your name?"

  "H'Allan."

  "Hallan?"

  "No, sar. H'Allan."

  "Is that your first or last name?"

  "Both, sar--h'Allan h'Allan."

  "Mr. Allan Allan, you're unusually dark for a Scotchman," said Kirk,gravely. "Now, speaking as one gentleman to another, do you happen toknow where we can get a hand-out?"

  "'And-out?" inquired the puzzled negro.

  "Yes; a lunch. Can't you lead me to a banana vine or a breadfruitbakery? I'm starving. They grow the finest cocoanuts in the world righthere--worth five cents apiece; they require no care, have no worms, nobugs. You sit still and they drop in your lap. Can't you show me a treewhere we can sit and wait for something to drop?"

  Allan replied, seriously: "But when the cocoanut falls, it is no goodfor h'eating, sar. The milk is h'acid."

  "I see you have a sense of humor; you should be in the consularservice.
But h'acid or sweet, h'eating or cooling, I must get somethinginto my stomach--it's as flat as a wet envelope."

  The Jamaican rose, saying: "Step this way, please. I know the placewhere a very good female is. Per'aps she will make us a present."

  "How far is it?"

  "Oh, not too far," Allan replied, optimistically, and Kirk hopefullyfollowed him.

  But at the opposite side of the square they were halted by a suddencommotion which drove all thoughts of food out of their minds. From abuilding across the street issued a bugle-call, upon which anindescribable confusion broke forth. Men began running to and fro; avoice in authority shouted orders, each of which was the signal foranother bugle-call. Through the wide-open doors the Panamanians couldbe seen, scurrying around a hose-cart, apparently in search of clothes;some were struggling into red shirts, others were stamping their feetinto short boots or girding themselves with wide canvas belts.Meanwhile, the chief issued more orders and the bugle continued to blow.

  "Oh, look, boss!" Allan cried, quickly. "There must be a 'flagration."

  "It's a Spiggoty hose company, as I live. Come on!"

  Already a glare could be seen above the crowded portion of the city,and the two set off in that direction at a run, leaving the buglesounding in the rear and the gallant firemen still wrestling with theiruniforms. They had nearly reached the fire when around a corner back ofthem, with frightful speed and clangor, came a modern automobilefire-truck, clinging to which was a swarm of little brown men in redshirts and helmets. They reminded the American of monkeys on a circushorse, and, although he had been counted a reckless driver, heexclaimed in astonishment at the daring way in which the chauffeur tookthe turn.

  It was truly amazing, for the machine, which was the latest improvementin imported fire-fighting machinery, skidded the full width of thestreet, threatening to rip its tires off and turn turtle, then leapedupon the curb before its driver could straighten it up, and in amagnificent sweep carried away the wooden supports of an overhangingbalcony. The timbers parted like straws; there came a shrill uproarfrom inside the building as the sleeping occupants poured forth, butwithout a pause the Yankee machine whizzed on up the street, its gongclanging, its occupants holding on for dear life, the peacefulinhabitants of Colon fleeing from its path like quail before the hoofsof a runaway horse.

  "Hit her up!" Kirk yelled, delightedly, then leaned against a lamp-postand laughed until he was weak. In the midst of his merriment appearedthe company he had just seen making up. They had found their uniformsat last, it seemed, down to the final belt and shoelace, and now camecharging gallantly along in the tracks of the more speedy motor. Theywere drawing their hand-reel, each brave lad tugging lustily andpanting with fatigue.

  Kirk and his guide fell in behind and jogged to the scene of theconflagration.

  A three-storied building was already half gutted; out of its windowsroared long, fiery tongues; the structure snapped and volleyed a chorusto the sullen monotone of destruction. The street was littered with thehousehold belongings of the neighborhood, and from the galleries andwindows near by came such a flight of miscellaneous articles as tomenace the safety of those below. Men shouted, women screamed, childrenshrieked, figures appeared upon the fire-lit balconies hurling fortharmfuls of cooking utensils, bedding, lamps, food, and furniture,utterly careless of where they fell or of the damage they suffered.Kirk saw one man fling a graphophone from a top window, then lower amattress with a rope. On all sides was a bedlam which the arrival ofthe firemen only augmented. The fire captains shouted orders to thebuglers, the buglers blew feebly upon their horns, the companiesdeployed in obedience to the bugles, then everybody waited for furtherdirections.

  Again the trumpet sounded, whereupon each fireman began to interferewith his neighbor; a series of quarrels arose as couplings were made orbroken; then, after an interminable delay, water began to flow, as ifby a miracle. But except in rare instances it failed to reach theflames. A ladder-truck, drawn by another excited company, now rumbledupon the scene, its arrival adding to the general disorder. Meanwhile,the steady tradewind fanned the blaze to ever-growing proportions.

  "Why the devil don't they get closer?" Kirk inquired of his Jamaicancompanion.

  Allan's eyes were wide and ringed with white; his teeth gleamed in agrin of ecstasy as he replied:

  "Oh, Lard, my God, it is too 'ot, sar; greatly too 'ot! It would take astout 'eart to do such a thing."

  "Nonsense! They'll never put it out this way. Hey!" Kirk attracted theattention of a near-by nozzleman. "Walk up to it. It won't bite you."But the valiant fire-fighter held stubbornly to his post, while thestream he directed continued to describe a graceful curve and spatterupon the sidewalk in front of the burning building. "You're spoilingthat old woman's bed," Anthony warned him, at which a policeman withdrawn club forced him back as if resentful of criticism. Other peaceofficers compelled the crowd to give way, then fell upon the distractedproperty holders and beat them off their piles of furniture.

  For perhaps ten minutes there was no further change in the situation;then a great shout arose as it was seen that the roof of the adjoiningbuilding had burst into flame. At this the fanfare of trumpets soundedagain; firemen rushed down the street, dragging a line of hose anddrenching the onlookers. But, despite their hurry, they halted toosoon, and their stream just failed to reach the blazing roof. By nowthe heat had grown really intense, and the more hardy heroes in thevanguard retreated to less trying positions. The voice of the crowd hadarisen to a roar rivalling that of the flames.

  "They must intend to let the whole town burn!" cried Anthony.

  "Yes, sar! Very probably, sar."

  Kirk pointed to the nearest fireman. "If he'd get up under that wall hecould save the roof and be out of the heat." He undertook to conveythis suggestion to the fellow, but without result. "I can't standthis," he exclaimed at last. "Let's give him a hand, Allan."

  "Very well, sar."

  "Here! help me get a kink in this hose. There! Now you hold it untilyou feel me pull." Kirk forced his way out through the crowd, to findthe fireman holding the nozzle, from which a feeble stream wasdribbling, and mechanically directing it at the fire. Kirk laid hold ofthe canvas and, with a heave, dragged it, along with its rightfulguardian, ten feet forward; but there had been no bugle-blown order forthis, and the uniformed man pulled backward with all his might,chattering at Kirk in Spanish.

  "Well, then let go." Anthony shook the Panamannikin loose, then ranforward across the street until he brought up at the end of the slackand felt the hose behind him writhe and swell as Allan released hishold. The next instant the negro was at his side, and the two foundthemselves half blistered by the heat that rolled out upon them. Butthe newly ignited roof was within range, and the stream they playedupon it made the shingles fly.

  "Oh, Lard!" Allan was crying. "Oh, Lard! I shall h'expire."

  "Pull down your hat and shield your face."

  The fireman they had despoiled began to drag at the hose from a safedistance; but when Kirk made as if to turn the nozzle upon him hescampered away amid the jeers of the crowd. A few moments later, theAmerican felt a hand upon his arm and saw an angry policeman who wasevidently ordering him back. Behind him stood the excited nozzlemanwith two companions.

  "He says you should return the 'ose where you found it," Allantranslated.

  "Leave us alone," Kirk replied. "You fellows help the others; we'llattend to this." More rapid words and gesticulations followed, in themidst of which a dapper young man in a uniform somewhat more impressivethan the others dashed up, flung himself upon Anthony and endeavored towrench the hose from his hands. Meanwhile he uttered epithets in brokenEnglish which the other had no difficulty in understanding. Kirkpromptly turned the nozzle upon him, and the full force of Colon'swater-pressure struck him squarely in the stomach, doubling him up likethe kick of a mule. Down the newcomer went, then half rolled, half slidacross the street as the stream continued to play upon him. Hescrambled to his feet, a sorry spectacle
of waving arms and drippinggarments, his cries of rage drowned in the delighted clamor of thebeholders.

  "I guess they'll keep away now," laughed Kirk, as he turned back to hisself-appointed task.

  But Allan exclaimed, fearfully: "Oh, boss, I fear he is some 'ighh'officer."

  "Never mind. We're having a lot of fun. It's medals for us--gold medalsfor bravery, Allan. To-morrow the board of aldermen will thank us."

  But this prediction seemed ill-founded. An instant later a half-dozenpolicemen advanced in a businesslike manner, and their leaderannounced: "Come! You are arrest."

  "Pinched! What for? We're doing a lot of good here."

  "Come, queeck!"

  "Oh, Lard, my God!" Allan mumbled. "I shall die and kill myself."

  "They won't do anything to us," Kirk assured him. "I've been pinchedlots of times. We'll have to quit, though, and that's a pity. It wasjust getting good."

  He surrendered the hose to a fireman, who promptly retreated with it toa discreet position, then followed his captors, who were now buzzinglike bees.

  "Don't get excited," he said to Allan, noting his frightened look."They'll turn us loose all right."

  But a moment after they were clear of the town he was surprised to seethat the negro's captors had snapped "come-alongs" upon him in spite ofhis repeated promises to go quietly.

  These handcuffs, Kirk saw, were of the type used upon desperatecriminals, consisting of chains fitted with handles so contrived that amere twist of the officer's hand would cut the prisoner's flesh to thebone.

  "You don't need to do that," he assured the fellow who had made thearrest, but, instead of heeding his words, the men on each side of theJamaican twisted stoutly, forcing the black boy to cry out in pain. Hehung back, protesting:

  "All right, sar, I'll come. I'll come."

  But again they tightened their instruments of torture, and their victimbegan to struggle. At this an evil-faced man in blue struck himbrutally upon the head with his club, then upon the shoulders, as if tosilence his groans. The boy flung up his manacled hands to shieldhimself, and the light from a street lamp showed blood flowing wherethe chains had cut. The whole proceeding was so unprovoked, sosickening in its cruelty, that Kirk, who until this instant had lookedupon the affair as a rather enjoyable lark, flew into a fury and,disregarding his own captors, leaped forward before the policeman couldstrike a third time. He swung his fist, and the man with the clubhurtled across the street as if shot from a bow, then lay still in thegutter. With another blow he felled one of the handcuff-men, but at thesame time other hands grasped at him and he was forced to lay aboutvigorously on all sides.

  They rushed him with the ferocity of mad dogs, and he knocked themspinning, one after another. A whistle blew shrilly, other uniformscame running, more whistles piped, and almost before he realized it hefound himself in the centre of a pack of lean-faced brown men who werestruggling to pull him down and striking at him with their clubs. Witha sudden wild thrill he realized that this was no ordinary streetfight; this was deadly; he must beat off these fellows or be killed.But, as fast as he cleared them away, others appeared as if by magic,until a dozen or more were swarming upon him like hungry ants. Theyclung to his arms, his legs, his clothing, with a desperate couragewholly admirable in itself, while strokes were aimed at him from everyquarter. Time and again they dragged him off his feet, only to have himshake them loose. But though most of their blows went wild or found amark among their own numbers, he was felled at last, and a momentlater, with head reeling and wits flickering, he was dragged to hisknees by handcuffs like those on Allan's wrists. The pain as the chainsbit into his flesh brought him to his feet despite the blows and kicksthat were rained upon him, crying hoarsely:

  "Let me go, damn you! Let me go!"

  But a wrench at the gyves took the fight out of him, for he felt thatthe bones in his wrists must surely be crushed. One side of his headwas strangely big and numb; a warm stream trickled down his cheek; buthe had no time to think of his condition, for his assailants fell uponhim with fresh fury, and he reeled about, striving to shield himself.Every movement, however, was construed as resistance, and hispunishment continued, until at last he must have fainted from pain orhad his wits scattered by a blow on the head; for when he recoveredconsciousness he found himself in a filthy, ill-lighted room, flungupon a wooden platform that ran along the wall, evidently serving as abed. Near him Allan was huddled, his black face distorted with pain andashen with apprehension.