the lost road-第25章

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Upon　the　turf　were　pyramids　of　cannon…balls　and；　laid　out　in　rows
as　though　awaiting　burial；　old…time　muzzle…loading　guns。　　Across
the　harbor　the　sun　was　sinking　into　the　coral　reefs；　and　the　spring
air；　still　warm　from　its　caresses；　was　stirred　by　the　music　of　the
band　into　gentle；　rhythmic　waves。　　The　scene　was　one　of　peace；
order；　and　content。

But　as　Swanson　advanced；　the　measure　of　the　music　was　instantly
shattered　by　a　fierce　volley　of　explosions。　　They　came　so　suddenly
and　sharply　as　to　make　him　start。　　It　was　as　though　from　his　flank
a　quick…firing　gun　in　ambush　had　opened　upon　him。　　Swanson　smiled
at　having　been　taken　unawares。　　For　in　San　Francisco　he　often　had
heard　the　roar　and　rattle　of　the　wireless。　　But　never　before　had　he
listened　to　an　attack　like　this。

From　a　tiny　white…and…green　cottage；　squatting　among　the　four
giant　masts；　came　the　roar　of　a　forest　fire。　　One　could　hear　the
crackle　of　the　flames；　the　crash　of　the　falling　tree…trunks。　　The
air　about　the　cottage　was　torn　into　threads；　beneath　the　shocks
of　the　electricity　the　lawn　seemed　to　heave　and　tremble。　　It　was
like　some　giant　monster；　bound　and　fettered；　struggling　to　be
free。　　Now　it　growled　sullenly；　now　in　impotent　rage　it　spat　and
spluttered；　now　it　lashed　about　with　crashing；　stunning　blows。　　It
seemed　as　though　the　wooden　walls　of　the　station　could　not
contain　it。

From　the　road　Swanson　watched；　through　the　open　windows　of　the
cottage；　the　electric　bolts　flash　and　flare　and　disappear。　　The　thing
appealed　to　his　imagination。　　Its　power；　its　capabilities　fascinated
him。　　In　it　he　saw　a　hungry　monster　reaching　out　to　every　corner
of　the　continent　and　devouring　the　news　of　the　world；　feeding
upon　tales　of　shipwreck　and　disaster；　lingering　over　some　dainty
morsel　of　scandal；　snatching　from　ships　and　cities　two　thousand
miles　away　the　thrice…told　tale　of　a　conflagration；　the　score　of　a
baseball　match；　the　fall　of　a　cabinet；　the　assassination　of　a　king。

In　a　sudden　access　of　fierceness；　as　though　in　an　ecstasy　over
some　fresh　horror　just　received；　it　shrieked　and　chortled。　　And
then；　as　suddenly　as　it　had　broken　forth；　it　sank　to　silence；　and
from　the　end　of　the　carriage　drive　again　rose；　undisturbed；　the
music　of　the　band。

The　musicians　were　playing　to　a　select　audience。　　On　benches
around　the　band…stand　sat　a　half　dozen　nurse…maids　with　knitting
in　their　hands；　the　baby…carriages　within　arm's　length。　　On　the
turf　older　children　of　the　officers　were　at　play；　and　up　and　down
the　paths　bareheaded　girls；　and　matrons；　and　officers　in　uniform
strolled　leisurely。　　From　the　vine…covered　cottage　of　Admiral
Preble；　set　in　a　garden　of　flowering　plants　and　bending　palmettos；
came　the　tinkle　of　tea…cups　and　the　ripple　of　laughter；　and　at　a
respectful　distance；　seated　on　the　dismantled　cannon；　were
marines　in　khaki　and　bluejackets　in　glistening　white。

It　was　a　family　group；　and　had　not　Swanson　recognized　among　the
little　audience　others　of　the　passengers　from　the　steamer　and
natives　of　the　town　who；　like　himself；　had　been　attracted　by　the
music；　he　would　have　felt　that　he　intruded。　　He　now　wished　to
remain。　　He　wanted　to　carry　with　him　into　his　exile　a　memory　of
the　men　in　uniform；　of　the　music；　and　pretty　women；　of　the　gorgeous
crimson　sunset。　　But；　though　he　wished　to　remain；　he　did　not　wish
to　be　recognized。

From　the　glances　already　turned　toward　him；　he　saw　that　in　this
little　family　gathering　the　presence　of　a　stranger　was　an　event；
and　he　was　aware　that　during　the　trial　the　newspapers　had　made
his　face　conspicuous。　　Also　it　might　be　that　stationed　at　the　post
was　some　officer　or　enlisted　man　who　had　served　with　him　in　Cuba；
China；　or　the　Philippines；　and　who　might　point　him　out　to　others。
Fearing　this；　Swanson　made　a　detour　and　approached　the　band…stand
from　the　wharf；　and　with　his　back　to　a　hawser…post　seated　himself
upon　the　string…piece。

He　was　overcome　with　an　intolerable　melancholy。　　From　where　he
sat　he　could　see；　softened　into　shadows　by　the　wire　screens　of　the
veranda；　Admiral　Preble　and　his　wife　and　their　guests　at　tea。　　A
month　before；　he　would　have　reported　to　the　admiral　as　the
commandant　of　the　station；　and　paid　his　respects。　　Now　he　could
not　do　that；　at　least　not　without　inviting　a　rebuff。　　A　month
before；　he　need　only　have　shown　his　card　to　the　admiral's　orderly；
and　the　orderly　and　the　guard　and　the　officers'　mess　and　the
admiral　himself　would　have　turned　the　post　upside　down　to　do
him　honor。　　But　of　what　avail　now　was　his　record　in　three
campaigns？　Of　what　avail　now　was　his　medal　of　honor？　They
now　knew　him　as　Swanson；　who　had　been　court…martialled；　who
had　been　allowed　to　resign；　who　had　left　the　army　for　the　army's
good；　they　knew　him　as　a　civilian　without　rank　or　authority；　as　an
ex…officer　who　had　robbed　his　brother　officers；　as　an　outcast。

His　position；　as　his　morbid　mind　thus　distorted　it；　tempted
Swanson　no　longer。　　For　being　in　this　plight　he　did　not　feel　that
in　any　way　he　was　to　blame。　　But　with　a　flaming　anger　he　still
blamed　his　brother　officers　of　the　court…martial　who　had　not
cleared　his　name　and　with　a　clean　bill　of　health　restored　him　to
duty。　　Those　were　the　men　he　blamed；　not　Rueff；　the　sergeant；　who
he　believed　had　robbed　him；　nor　himself；　who；　in　a　passion　of
wounded　pride；　had　resigned　and　so　had　given　reason　for　gossip；
but　the　men　who　had　not　in　tones　like　a　bugle…call　proclaimed　his
innocence；　who；　when　they　had　handed　him　back　his　sword；　had
given　it　grudgingly；　not　with　congratulation。


As　he　saw　it；　he　stood　in　a　perpetual　pillory。　　When　they　had
robbed　him　of　his　honor　they　had　left　him　naked；　and　life　without
honor　had　lost　its　flavor。　　He　could　eat；　he　could　drink；　he　could
exist。　　He　knew　that　in　many　corners　of　the　world　white　arms　would
reach　out　to　him　and　men　would　beckon　him　to　a　place　at　table。

But　he　could　not　cross　that　little　strip　of　turf　between　him　and
the　chattering　group　on　the　veranda　and　hand　his　card　to　the
admiral's　orderly。　　Swanson　loved　life。　　He　loved　it　so　that
without　help；　money；　or　affection　he　could　each　morning　have
greeted　it　with　a　smile。　　But　life　without　honor！　He　felt　a　sudden
hot　nausea　of　disgust。　　Why　was　he　still　clinging　to　what　had
lost　its　purpose；　to　what　lacked　the　one　thing　needful？


〃If　life　be　an　ill　thing；〃　he　thought；　〃I　can　lay　it　down！〃

The　thought　was　not　new　to　him；　and　during　the　two　past　weeks　of
aimless　wandering　he　had　carried　with　him　his　service　automatic。
To　reassure　himself　he　laid　his　fingers　on　its　cold　smooth　surface。
He　would　wait；　he　determined；　until　the　musicians　had　finished
their　concert　and　the　women　and　children　had　departed；　and　then

Then　the　orderly　would　find　him　where　he　was　now　seated；　sunken
against　the　hawser…post　with　a　hole　through　his　heart。　　To　his　disordered
brain　his　decision　appeared　quite　sane。　　He　was　sure　he　never　had　been
more　calm。　　And　as　he　prepared　himself　for　death　he　assured　himself
that　for　one　of　his　standard　no　other　choice　was　possible。　　Thoughts
of　the　active　past；　or　of　what　distress　in　the　future　his　act　would　bring
to　others；　did　not　disturb　him。　　The　thing　had　to　be；　no　one　lost　more
heavily　than　himself；　and　regrets　were　cowardly。

He　counted　the　money　he　had　on　his　person　and　was　pleased　to　find
there　was　enough　to　pay　for　what　services　others　soon　must　render
him。　　In　his　pockets　were　letters；　cards；　a　cigarette…case；　each　of
which　would　tell　his　identity。　　He　had　no　wish　to　conceal　it；　for　of
what　he　was　about　to　do　he　was　not　ashamed。　　It　was　not　his　act。
He　would　not　have　died　〃by　his　own　hand。〃　　To　his　unbalanced
brain　the　officers　of　the　court…martial　were　responsible。　　It　was
they　who　had　killed　him。　　As　he　saw　it；　they　had　made　his　death
as　inevitable　as　though　they　had　sentenced　him　to　be　shot　at
sunrise。

A　line　from　〃The　Drums　of　the　Fore　and　Aft〃　came　back　to　him。
Often　he　had　quoted　it；　when　some　one　in　the　service　had　suffered
through　the　fault　of　others。　　It　was　the　death…cry　of　the　boy　officer；
Devlin。　　The　knives　of　the　Ghazi　had　cut　him　down；　but　it　was　his
own　people's　abandoning　him　in　terror　that　had　killed　him。　　And　so；
with　a　sob；　he