The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1907-07-14

ace, blowing away at their instru-
ments, the Kanakas marching behind
and humming the song. I came out on
the lanai and watched 'em go by, quite
| like any king reviewing his army. And
| they tootled and blew along, step, step,
step, hup, hup, hup, their cheeks pulled
out. their bodies swinging to the
music.
Somehow I hated to see that band go;
1 sort of stood up straight and waved
my hand. The leader looked over at
me and they stopped. The tune
stopped. Everything stopped. And then
the leader waved his horn and they
stepped off again, playing an old
Frisco dancehall tune. I didn't know
just what it was, but as they passed
out of sight / remembered.
(The king forgot his glass and threw
his head back. His eyes rested on the
nymph on the ceiling. He seemed lost
in thought. He awakened to say)
That was the old tune they played.
The last tune played in the Kingdom
of Enid. I forget the words. They
went down the white road under the
dark palms. / saw them come out on
the beach and then, by Heck, I saw
the end of my ambitions. Behind them,
leading the ruck of Kanakas, was Him
melfritz, with his white clothes on and
his bag in his hand. There was Boggs,
tooling along with his head on his
breast, and Lavang, too, with his cap
on the back of his head.
I tell you I was hurt. Hadn't pick
ed all three of 'em out of the gutter
and made men of them? Hadn't 1 put
money in their pockets and given them
the run of my island? And they left
me, left me cold to follow a little Ger
man band. They got into the boat with
them and went out TO the Bess. 1
heard Lavang's voice ordering the crew
about when they set the topsail and
Boggs singing at the halliards.
It's lonely to be king. I stood there
and the Bess lifted her anchor and
warped out to the reef. They hoisted
the fOresail and she slipped through
out upon the open sea. The moon lit
her up. 1 saw them all on her decks.
The band played and the Bess took
the long swells and I never said a
word. l never called to them. They
never said good-by, damn them!
But why did they leave?" l de-
manded.
They sent the schooner back" he
said simply. Enid is for sale, treas.
ury, bandstand and palace. I'm done
with it. My wife is dead and the chill
dren are well fixed
1 looked at him, a man in the prime
of life, giving up a kingdom. What
are you going to dor 1 asked.
King Jedediah's face was turned to-
.
half world away. I'm going home"
he said mildly. I've had my day and
I've come to the end of the fun of it, |
knew it that night when the band
went by-going home-playing that
tune. Himmelfritz, Boggs and Lavang
went. By Heck! the Kings going, |
tool"
1 went back to the office and wrote |
my paragraph about the King of Enid. |
The Oldest Journalist in the South Seas |
was putting on his coat as l finished. |
What did Jedediah have to say?" he |
inquired.
He said he was put out of business |
by little German band" 1 replied.
Amy story in it?" he pursued.
"A stickful." I responded.
But later, in San Francisco, watch
ed a parade of the city's workingmen.
They passed up Market street to the /
blare Of trumpet and the beat of drum.
with banners waving and legends
Haunting in the breeze. Behind an i'm
mense pennant bearing the words,
"Stevedores Local, No. 49, stepping
along with his eyes fixed on some in
visible guidon, I saw King Jedediah.
He did not see me, for he was follow
ing the band. Probably the kings still
gather in Andrews waiting for Kahea-
manu's cry, Somebody coming!" But
Jedediah, no longer king, will never
come again. He has gone home.