41 Stories (60 page)

“You can see that I was feeling like an indigo plant; but after I washed my face in some cool water, and got out my navys and ammunition, and started up to the Saloon of the Immaculate Saints where we were to meet, I felt better. And when I saw those other American boys come swaggering into the trysting place—cool, easy, conspicuous fellows, ready to risk any kind of a one-card draw, or to fight grizzlies, fire, or extradition, I began to feel glad I was one of ‘em. So, I says to myself again: ‘Billy, you've got fifteen dollars and a country left this morning—blow in the dollars and blow up the town as an American gentleman should on Independence Day.'

“It is my recollection that we began the day along conventional lines. The six of us—for Sterrett was along—made progress among the cantinas divesting the bars as we went of all strong drink bearing American labels. We kept informing the atmosphere as to the glory and preëminence of the United States and its ability to subdue, out-jump, and eradicate the other nations of the earth. And, as the findings of American labels grew more plentiful, we became more contaminated with patriotism. Maximilian Jones hopes that our late foe, Mr. Sterrett, will not take offense at our enthusiasm. He sets down his bottle and shakes Sterrett's hand. ‘As white man to white man,' says he, ‘denude our uproar of the slightest taint of personality. Excuse us for Bunker Hill, Patrick Henry, and Waldorf Astor, and such grievances as might lie between us as nations.'

“ ‘Fellow hoodlums,' says Sterrett, ‘on behalf of the Queen I ask you to cheese it. It is an honor to be a guest at disturbing the peace under the American flag. Let us chant the passionate strains of ”Yankee Doodle” while the senor behind the bar mitigates the occasion with another round of cochineal and aqua fortis.'

“Old Man Billfinger, being charged with a kind of rhetoric, makes speeches every time we stop. We explained to such citizens as we happened to step on that we were celebrating the dawn of our private brand of liberty, and to please enter such inhumanities as we might commit on the list of unavoidable casualties.

“About eleven o‘clock our bulletins read: ‘A considerable rise in temperature, accompanied by thirst and other alarming symptoms.' We hooked arms and stretched our line across the narrow streets, all of us armed with Winchesters and navys for purposes of noise and without malice. We stopped on a street corner and fired a dozen or so rounds, and began a serial assortment of United States whoops and yells, probably the first ever heard in that town.

“When we made that noise things began to liven up. We heard a pattering up a side street, and here came General Mary Esperanza Dingo on a white horse with a couple of hundred brown boys following him in red undershirts and bare feet, dragging guns ten feet long. Jones and me had forgot all about General Mary and his promise to help us celebrate. We fired another salute and gave another yell, while the General shook hands with us and waved his sword.

“ ‘Oh, General,' shouts Jones, ‘this is great. This will be a real pleasure to the eagle. Get down and have a drink.'

“ ‘Drink?' says the general. ‘No. There is no time to drink. Viva la Libertad!'

“ ‘Don't forget E Pluribus Unum!' says Henry Barnes.

“ ‘Viva it good and strong,' says I. ‘Likewise
viva
George Washington. God save the Union, and,' I says, bowing to Sterrett, ‘don't discard the Queen.'

“ ‘Thanks,' says Sterrett. ‘The next round's mine. All in to the bar Army, too.'

“But we were deprived of Sterrett's treat by a lot of gunshot several squares away, which General Dingo seemed to think he ought to look after. He spurred his old white plug up that way, and the soldiers scuttled along after him.

“ ‘Mary is a real tropical bird,' says Jones. ‘He's turned out the infantry to help us do honor to the Fourth. We'll get that cannon he spoke of after a while and fire some window-breakers with it. But just now I want some of that barbecued beef. Let us on to the plaza.'

“There we found the meat gloriously done, and Jerry waiting, anxious. We sat around on the grass, and got hunks of it on our tin plates. Maximilian Jones, always made tenderhearted by drink, cried some because George Washington couldn't be there to enjoy the day. ‘There was a man I love, Billy,' he says, weeping on my shoulder. ‘Poor George! To think he's gone, and missed the fireworks. A little more salt, please, Jerry.'

“From what we could hear, General Dingo seemed to be kindly contributing some noise while we feasted. There were guns going off around town, and pretty soon we heard that cannon go ‘BOOM!' just as he said it would. And then men began to skim along the edge of the plaza, dodging in among the orange trees and houses. We certainly had things stirred up in Salvador. We felt proud of the occasion and grateful to General Dingo. Sterrett was about to take a bite off a juicy piece of rib when a bullet took it away from his mouth.

“ ‘Somebody's celebrating with ball cartridges,' says he, reaching for another piece. ‘Little over-zealous for a nonresident patriot, isn't it?'

“ ‘Don't mind it,' I says to him. ‘ 'Twas an accident. They happen, you know, on the Fourth. After one reading of the Declaration of Independence in New York I've known the S.R.O. sign to be hung out at all the hospitals and police stations.'

“But then Jerry gives a howl and jumps up with one hand clapped to the back of his leg where another bullet has acted over-zealous. And then comes a quantity of yells, and round a corner and across the plaza gallops General Mary Esperanza Dingo embracing the neck of his horse, with his men running behind him, mostly dropping their guns by way of discharging ballast. And chasing ‘em all is a company of feverish little warriors wearing blue trousers and caps.

“ ‘Assistance, amigos,' the General shouts, trying to stop his horse. ‘Assistance, in the name of Liberty!'

“ ‘That's the Compañía Azul, the President's bodyguard,' says Jones. ‘What a shame! They've jumped on poor old Mary just because he was helping us to celebrate. Come on, boys, it's our Fourth;—do we let that little squad of A. D. T.'s break it up?'

“ ‘I vote No,' says Martin Dillard, gathering his Winchester. ‘It's the privilege of an American citizen to drink, drill, dress up, and be dreadful on the Fourth of July, no matter whose country he's in.'

“ ‘Fellow citizens!' says old man Billfinger. ‘In the darkest hour of Freedom's birth, when our brave forefathers promulgated the principles of undying liberty, they never expected that a bunch of blue jays like that should be allowed to bust up an anniversary. Let us preserve and protect the Constitution.'

“We made it unanimous, and then we gathered our guns and assaulted the blue troops in force. We fired over their heads, and then charged ‘em with a yell, and they broke and ran. We were irritated at having our barbecue disturbed, and we chased 'em a quarter of a mile. Some of ‘em we caught and kicked hard. The General rallied his troops and joined in the chase. Finally they scattered in a thick banana grove, and we couldn't flush a single one. So we sat down and rested.

“If I were to be put, severe, through the third degree, I wouldn't be able to tell much about the rest of the day. I mind that we pervaded the town considerable, calling upon the people to bring out more armies for us to destroy. I remember seeing a crowd somewhere, and a tall man that wasn't Billfinger making a Fourth of July speech from a balcony. And that was about all.

“Somebody must have hauled the old ice factory up to where I was, and put it around me, for there's where I was when I woke up the next morning. As soon as I could recollect my name and address I got up and held an inquest. My last cent was gone. I was all in.

“And then a neat black carriage drives to the door, and out steps General Dingo and a bay man in a silk hat and tan shoes.

“ ‘Yes,' says I to myself, ‘I see it now. You're the Chief de Policeos and High Lord Chamberlain of the Calaboosum; and you want Billy Casparis for excess of patriotism and assault with intent. All right. Might as well be in jail, anyhow.'

“But it seems that General Mary is smiling, and the bay man shakes my hand, and speaks in the American dialect.

“ ‘General Dingo has informed me, Senor Casparis, of your gallant service in our cause. I desire to thank you with my person. The bravery of you and the other
señores
Americanos turned the struggle for liberty in our favor. Our party triumphed. The terrible battle will live forever in history.'

“ ‘Battle?' says I; ‘what battle?' and I ran my mind back along history, trying to think.

“ ‘Señor Casparis is modest,' says General Dingo. ‘He led his brave
compadres
into the thickest of the fearful conflict. Yes. Without their aid the revolution would have failed.'

“ ‘Why, now,' says I, ‘don't tell me there was a revolution yestereday. That was only a Fourth of—'

“But right there I abbreviated. It seemed to me it might be best.

“ ‘After the terrible struggle,' says the bay man, ‘President Bolano was forced to fly. To-day Caballo is President by proclamation. Ah, yes. Beneath the new administration I am the head of the Department of Mercantile Concessions. On my file I find one report, Senor Casparis, that you have not made ice in accord with your contract.' And here the bay man smiles at me, ‘cute.

“ ‘Oh, well,' says I, ‘I guess the report's straight. I know they caught me. That's all there is to it.'

“ ‘Do not say so,' says the bay man. He pulls off a glove and goes over and lays his hand on that chunk of glass.

“ ‘Ice,' says he, nodding his head, solemn.

“General Dingo also steps over and feels of it.

“ ‘Ice,' says the General; ‘I'll swear to it.'

“ ‘If Senor Casparis,' says the bay man, ‘will present himself to the treasury on the sixth day of this month he will receive back the thousand dollars he did deposit as a forfeit.
Adiós,
señor.'

“The General and the bay man bowed themselves out, and I bowed as often as they did.

“And when the carriage rolls away through the sand I bows once more, deeper than ever, till my hat touches the ground. But this time ‘twas not intended for them. For, over their heads, I saw the old flag fluttering in the breeze above the consul's roof; and 'twas to it I made my profoundest salute.”

Afterword

All of us want to know what will happen next. In fiction, plot pulls events through a story. Plot is the demonstration that an action takes place as a consequence of what has gone before and is linked to what will come after it, and thus the fulfillment of plot is reassuring to a reader. Today the hunger for plot is often satisfied by media other than literary fiction. Television provides one example in the ubiquitous Law and Order, where our desire for the satisfactions of a clear beginning, middle, and end is understood. William Sidney Porter, best known as O. Henry, lived a discouraging life, but his stories with their well worked-out plots help his readers believe that what is difficult now can unfold into happiness.

In his time, O. Henry was considered to be an artist, not merely a commercial or popular writer. He was called the American Maupassant as a way to define his standing as a writer, the way today's writers are compared to Chekhov. At the height of O. Henry's production, he published a story a week, in newspapers and magazines, single handedly doing his best to fill the need of his readers for more—more story, more characters, more satisfying plots that worked out for the good, however implausibly. Almost one hundred years after his death, his stories are still read in English and in translation. The present Signet Classics collection has been reprinted numerous times; each year it outsells most new works of fiction, which is to say that the stories of O. Henry have loyal readers and that they gain new ones.
¹

O. Henry's fictional world could hardly be more different from that of great writers who were roughly his contemporaries : James Joyce (1882-1941), Virginia Woolf (1882-1941), and Marcel Proust (1871-1922); also Henry James (1843-1916), though it's especially hard to imagine either writer caring a fig about the other. As for writers of our own day, O. Henry is comparatively unconcerned with time, a subject that haunts Alice Munro, one of our best short story writers. O. Henry's tales are broad humor compared to today's postmodernist satires.

O. Henry's endings with a twist are a hallmark of his style. He had the ability to create a seemingly insoluble dilemma and then to untie the knot. Today O. Henry's chosen approach to endings seems contrived to many readers. Even a story written in 1899, during O. Henry's lifetime, “The Lady with the Dog” by Anton Chekhov, has a markedly different sort of ending, one that defines the insoluble problem of the story's characters rather than solving it. For Gurov, the main character in Chekhov's story, understanding the nature of love is a trans-formative experience. If his understanding doesn't result in a solution to the profound problems presented in the story, that's because Chekhov wasn't interested in problems that could be solved.