adventures and letters-第64节

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iting　time；　and　am　dying　to　tell　you　the　〃insie〃　story。　　But　the　one　I　sent　the　papers　must　serve。　　I　promised　myself　I　would　give　the　FIRST　soldier；　marine　and　sailor　I　met　on　returning　a　cigar；　and　the　first　sailor　was　the　CHAPLAIN　OF　THE　FLEET；　Father　Reany。　　But　he　took　the　cigar　and　gave　me　his　blessing。　　I　am　now　burning　candles　to　St。　Rita。　　What　worried　me　the　MOST　was　how　worried　YOU　would　be；　and　I　begged　Palmer　not　to　send　the　story　of　our　first　arrest。　　But　other　people　told　of　it；　and　he　had　to　forward　it。　　You　certainly　made　the　wires　BURN！　and　had　the　army　guessing。　　One　officer　said　to　me；　〃I'm　awfully　sorry　to　see　you　back。　　If　you'd　only　have　stayed　in　jail　another　day　your　wife　would　have　had　us　all　on　our　way　to　Mexico。〃　　And　the　censor　said；　〃My　God！　I'm　glad　you're　safe！　　Your　wife　has　MADE　OUR　LIVES　HELL！〃　　And　quite　right；　too；　bless　you！　　None　of　us　knows　anything；　but　it　looks　to　me　that　NOTHING　will　induce　Wilson　to　go　to　war。　　But　the　Mexicans　think　we　ARE　at　war；　and　act　accordingly。　　They　may　bring　on　a　conflict。　　That　is　why　I　am　making　ready　in　case　we　advance　and　that　is　why　I　cabled　today　for　the　rest　of　my　kit。　　I　have　a　fine　little　pony；　and　a　little　messenger　boy　who　speaks　Spanish；　to　look　after　the　horse；　and　me。

And　now；　as　to　your　LETTERS；　they　came　to…day；　five　of　them；　COUNT　'EM；　and　the　pictures　did　make　me　laugh。　　I　showed　those　of　the　soldier　commandeering　the　vegetables　to　Funston　and　he　laughed。　　And；　I　did　love　the　flowers　you　sent　no　matter　HOW　homesick　they　made　me！　　（Oh）。　　I　do　not　want　a　camera。

I　have　one；　and　those　fancy　cameras　I　don't　understand。

The　letters　you　forwarded　were　wonderfully　well　selected。　　I　mean；　those　from　other　people。　　One　of　them　was　from　Senator　Root　telling　me　Bryan　is　going　to　reward　our　three　heroic　officers　who　jumped　into　the　ocean。　　I　know　you　will　be　glad。　　There　are　NO　mosquitoes！　　Haven't　met　up　with　but　three　and　THEY　are　not　COMING　BACK。

I　send　you　a　picture　of　my　room　from　the　outside。　　From　the　inside　the　view　is　so　〃pretty。〃　　Across　the　square　is　the　cathedral　and　the　trees　are　filled　with　birds　that　sing　all　night；　and　statues；　and　pretty　globes。　　The　band　plays　every　night　and　when　it　plays　〃Hello；　Winter　Time；〃　I　CRY　for　you。　　I　paid　the　band…master　20　to　play　it；　and　it　is　WORTH　IT。　　I　sit　on　the　balcony　and　think　of　you　and　know　just　what　you　are　doing；　for　there　is　only　an　hour　and　a　half　difference。　　That　is；　when　with　you　it　is　ten　o'clock　with　me　it　is　eight…thirty。　　So　when　you　and　Louise　are　at　dinner　you　can　know　I　am　just　coming　in　from　my　horseback　ride　to　bathe　and　〃nap。〃　　And　when　at　eight…thirty　you　are　playing　the　Victor；　I　am　drinking　a　cocktail　to　you；　and　shooing　away　the　Colonels　and　Admirals　who　interfere　with　my　ceremony　of　drinking　to　my　dear　wife。



VERA　CRUZ；　May　20th；　1914。　DEAREST　WIFE：

I　got　SUCH　a　bully　letter　yesterday　from　you；　written　long　ago　from　the　Webster。　　It　said　you　missed　me；　and　it　said　you　loved　me；　and　there　were　funny　pictures　of　you　reading　the　war　and　peace　news　each　with　a　different　expression；　and　you　told　me　about　Padrigh　and　how　he　runs　down　the　road。　　It　made　me　very　sad　and　homesick；　but　very　glad　to　feel　I　was　so　missed。　Also　you　told　me　cheerful　falsehoods　about　my　Tribune　stories。　　I　know　they　are　no　good；　and　as　they　are　no　good；　the　shorter　the　better；　but　I　like　to　be　told　they　are　good。　　Anyway；　I　sat　down　at　once　and　wrote　a　long　screed　on　Vera　Cruz　and　the　sleepy　people　that　five　here。

We　all　live　on　the　sidewalk　under　the　stone　porch。　　Every　night　a　table　is　reserved　and　by　my　orders　ALL　chairs；　except　mine；　are　removed。　　So　no　one　can　sit　down　and　bore　me　while　I　am　dining。　　Another　trick　I　have　to　be　left　alone　is　to　carry　a　big　roll　of　cable　blanks；　and　I　pretend　to　write　out　cables　if　anyone　tries　to　talk。　　Then　I　beckon　the　messenger　（he　always　sits　in　the　plaza）　and　say　〃File　that！〃　and　he　goes　once　around　the　block　and　reports　back　that　it　is　〃filed。〃　　If　the　bore　renews　the　attack　I　write　another　cable；　and　the　unhappy　messenger　makes　another　tour。　　The　band　plays　from　seven　to　eight　every　night。　　There　are　five　bands；　and　I　saw　no　reason　why　there　should　not　be　music　every　evening。　　After　a　day　in　this　dirty　hotel　or　dirty　city　a　lively　band　helps。　　Funston　agreed；　but　forgot；　until　after　three　nights　with　no　band；　I　wrote　him　a　letter。　　It　was　signed　by　fake　names；　asking　if　he　couldn't　get　nineteen　German　musicians　into　a　bandstand　how　could　he　hope　to　get　ten　thousand　soldiers　into　Mexico　City。　　So　now　we　have　a　band　each　night。　　That　is　all　my　day。　　After　dinner　I　sit　at　table　and　the　men　bring　up　chairs；　or　else　I　go　to　some　other　table。　　There　are　some　damn　fool　women　here　who　are　a　nuisance；　and　they　now　have　dancing　in　the　hotel　adjoining；　but　I　don't　know　them；　except　to　bow；　and　I　approve　of　the　tango　parties　because　it　keeps　them　away　from　the　sidewalk。　　They　ire　〃refugees；〃　the　sort　of　folks　you　meet　at　Ocean　Grove；　or　rather　DON'T　meet！　All　love　to　you；　and　give　Patrigh　a　pat　from　his　Uncle　Richard　for　looking　after　you　and　looking　for　me；　and　remember　me　to　Louise　and　Shu　and　everything　at　home。　　I　love　you　so。

RICHARD。


VERA　CRUZ；　May　28；　1914。

I　want　to　be　home　to　see　the　daisy　field　with　you。　　That　knee　you　nearly　busted　tobogganing　when　the　daisy　field　was　an　iceberg　is　now　recovered。

The　one　and　all　came　this　morning　and　as　I　expected　it　was　all　full　of　love　from　you。　　I　DID　get　happiness　out　of　the　thought　you　put　in　it。　　And　all　done　in　an　hour。　　The　underclothes　made　me　weep。　　I　could　get　none　here。　　Not　because　Mexicans　are　not　as　large　as　I　am；　but　because　no　Mexican　of　any　size　would　wear　'em。　　So　I've　had　to　wash　the　few　that　the　washer…woman　didn't　destroy　myself。　　And　when　I　saw　the　lot　you　sent！　　It　was　like　a　white　sale！　　Also　the　quinine　which　I　tasted　just　for　luck；　and　the　soap　in　the　little　violet　wrapper　made　me　quite　homesick。　　Especially　was　I　glad　to　get　socks　and　pongee　suits；　and　shirts。　　I　really　was　getting　desperate。　　God　knows　what　I　would　have　done　without　them。

I　want　to　see　you　so　much；　and　I　want　to　see　you　in　the　same　setting　of　other　days；　I　want　to　walk　with　you　in　the　daisy　field；　and　in　the　laurel　blossoms；　and　clip　roses。　　But　to　be　with　you　I'd　be　willing　to　walk　on　broken　glass。　　Not　you；　too。　　Just　me。

RICHARD。



VERA　CRUZJune　4；　1914。　DEAR　OLD　MAN：

I　am　awfully　sorry　for　your　sake；　you　could　not　get　away。　　Of　course　for　myself　I　am　glad　that　I　am　to　see　you　and　Dai。　　At　least；　I　hope　I　am。　　God　alone　knows　when　we　will　get　out　of　here。　　I　am　sick　of　it。　　Next　time　I　go　to　war　both　armies　must　fight　for　two　months　before　I　will　believe　they　mean　it；　and　BEFORE　I　WILL　BUDGE。

It　is　true　I　am　getting　good　money；　but　also　there　is　absolutely　NOTHING　to　write　about。　　Bryan　doesn't　know　that　unless　he　talks　by　code　every　radio　on　sixteen　ships　can　read　every　message　he　sends　to　these　waters。　　And　the　State　Department　saying　it　could　not　understand　the　Hyranga　giving　up　her　cargo　is　a　damn　silly　lie。　　No　one　is　so　foolish　as　to　think　the　Chester　and　Tacomah　let　her　land　those　arms　under　their　guns　unless　they　had　been　told　to　submit　to　it。　　And　yet　today；　we　get　papers　of　the　29th　in　which　Bryan　says　he　has　twice　cabled　Badger　for　information；　when　for　a　week　Badger　has　been　reading　Bryan's　orders　to　consuls　to　let　the　arms　be　landed。　　Can　you　beat　that？　　This　is　an　awful　place；　and　if　I　don't　write　it　is　because　I　hate　to　harrow　your　feelings。　　It　is　a　town　of　flies；　filth　and　heat。　　John　McCutcheon　is　the　only　friend　I　have　seen；　and　he　sensibly　lives　on　a　warship。　　I　can't　do　that；　as　cables　come　all　the　time　suggesting　specials；　and　I　am　not　paid　to　loaf。　　John　is　here　on　a　vacation；　and　can　do　as　he　pleases。　　But　I　ride　around　like　any　cub　reporter。　　And　there　is　no　news。　　Since　I　left　home　I　have　not　talked　five　minutes　to　a　woman　〃or　mean　to！〃　　The　Mexican　women　are　a　cross　between　apes　and　squaws。　　Of　all　I　have　seen　here　nothing　has　impressed　me　so　as　the　hideousness　of　the　women；　girls；　children；　widows；　grandmothers。　　And　the　refugees；　as　Collier　would　say　it；　are　〃terrible！〃　　I　live　a　very　lonely　existence。　　I　find　it　works　out　that　way　best。　　And　at　the　same　time　all　the　correspondents　are　good　friends；　and　I　don't　find　that　there　is　one　of　them　who　does　not　go　out　of　his　way　to　SHOW　he　is　friendly。　　What　I　CAN'T　understand　is　why　no　one　at　home　never　guesses　I　might　like　to　read　some　of　my　own　stories。　。　。　。

DICK。


Of　these　days　in　Vera　Cruz　John　T。　McCutcheon　wrote　the　following　shortly　after　Richard's　death：

〃Davis　was　a　conspicuous　figure　in　Vera　Cruz；　as　he　inevitably　had　been　in　all　such　situations。　　Wherever　he　went；　he　was　pointed　out。　　His　distinction　of　appearance；　together　with　a　distinction　in　dress；　which；　whether　from　habit　or　policy；　was　a　valuable　asset　in　his　work；　made　him　a　marked　man。　　He　dressed　and　looked　the　‘war　correspondent；'　such　a　one　as　he　would　describe　in　one　of　his　stories。　　He　fulfilled　the　popular　ideal　of　what　a　member　of　that　fascinating　profession　should　look　like。　　His　code　of　life　and　habits　was　as　fixed　as　that　of　the　Briton　who　takes　his　habits　and　customs　and　games　and　tea　wherever　he　goes；　no　matter　how　benig