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Blood Will Tell
by
“You will tell the story just as I have written it,” commanded the proud author. “Your being South as a travelling salesman was only a blind. You came to volunteer for this expedition. Before you could explain your wish you were mistaken for a secret-service man, and hustled on board. That was just where you wanted to be, and when the moment arrived you took command of the ship and single-handed won the naval battle of Nipe Bay.”
Jimmy Doyle nodded his head approvingly. “You certainty did, Dave,” protested the great man, “I seen you when you done it!”
At Key West Carr filed his story and while the hospital surgeons kept David there over one steamer, to dress his wounds, his fame and features spread across the map of the United States.
Burdett and Sons basked in reflected glory. Reporters besieged their office. At the Merchants Down-Town Club the business men of lower Broadway tendered congratulations.
“Of course, it’s a great surprise to us,” Burdett and Sons would protest and wink heavily. “Of course, when the boy asked to be sent South we’d no idea he was planning to fight for Cuba! Or we wouldn’t have let him go, would we?” Then again they would wink heavily. “I suppose you know,” they would say, “that he’s a direct descendant of General Hiram Greene, who won the battle of Trenton. What I say is, ‘Blood will tell!'” And then in a body every one in the club would move against the bar and exclaim: “Here’s to Cuba libre!”
When the Olivette from Key West reached Tampa Bay every Cuban in the Tampa cigar factories was at the dock. There were thousands of them and all of the Junta, in high hats, to read David an address of welcome.
And, when they saw him at the top of the gang-plank with his head in a bandage and his arm in a sling, like a mob of maniacs they howled and surged toward him. But before they could reach their hero the courteous Junta forced them back, and cleared a pathway for a young girl. She was travel-worn and pale, her shirt-waist was disgracefully wrinkled, her best hat was a wreck. No one on Broadway would have recognized her as Burdett and Sons’ most immaculate and beautiful stenographer.
She dug the shapeless hat into David’s shoulder, and clung to him. “David!” she sobbed, “promise me you’ll never, never do it again!”