or the christening of the Shamrock IV. I’m an American citizen and I demand protection. I demand the Mosquito fleet, and Schley, and the Atlantic squadron, and Bob Evans, and General E. Byrd Grubb, and two or three protocols. What are you going to do about it?’
“‘Nothing doing,’ says the consul.
“‘Be off with you, then,’ says I, out of patience with him, ‘and send me Doc Millikin. Ask Doc to come and see me.’
“Doc comes and looks through the bars at me, surrounded by dirty soldiers, with even my shoes and canteen confiscated, and he looks mightily pleased.
“‘Hello, Yank,’ says he, ‘getting a little taste of Johnson’s Island, now, ain’t ye?’
“‘Doc,’ says I, ‘I’ve just had an interview with the U. S. consul. I gather from his remarks that I might just as well have been caught selling suspenders in Kishineff under the name of Rosenstein as to be in my present condition. It seems that the only maritime aid I am to receive from the United States is some navy-plug to chew. Doc,’ says I, ‘can’t you suspend hostilities on the slavery question long enough to do something for me?’
“‘It ain’t been my habit,’ Doe Millikin answers, ‘to do any painless dentistry when I find a Yank cutting an eye-tooth. So the Stars and Stripes ain’t landing any marines to shell the huts of the Colombian cannibals, hey? Oh, say, can you see by the dawn’s early light the star-spangled banner has fluked in the fight? What’s the matter with the War Department, hey? It’s a great thing to be a citizen of a gold-standard nation, ain’t it?’
