Defiance

There is a handful of phrases which stand out in U. S. History.

There is the exultant defiance of John Paul Jones: "I have not yet begun to fight."

There is the dying courage of James Lawrence: "Don't give up the ship."

There is Charles Cotesworth Pinckney's terse announcement: "Millions for defense, but not one cent for tribute."

There is Farragut's angry shout: "Damn the torpedoes; go ahead!"

And Grant's grim assertion: "We will fight it out on this line, if it takes all summer."

Courageous defiance is the keynote of all these expressions which have engraved themselves upon the minds of the people of the U. S. There is another such phrase, attributed to an American famed for that very courage of defiance.

When the Sultan of Morocco was harried by a lawless bandit from the hills, when that bandit seized upon a U. S. citizen and carried him off for ransom and satisfaction, the voice of Roosevelt boomed across the waters: "Perdicaris alive or Raisuli dead!"

For Raisuli, son of the desert, had captured Ion Perdicaris, U. S. citizen, son of a Greek who had been dwelling in Morocco for some 20 years. When the Sultan of Morocco heard Roosevelt's stentorian demand, he agreed to Raisuli's demand and Perdicaris was released.

That was in 1904. Now, 21 years later, Raisuli, the bandit, grown fat and old and tame, is prisoner of a new son of the desert, Abd-el-Krim (TIME, Feb. 16, SPAIN). Now, according to word that came across the Atlantic last week, Ion Perdicaris is dead in Chislehurst, England.

Over the waters across which boomed the voice of Roosevelt, a defiant echo returns, whispered from the lips of Death:

"Raisuli alive, and Perdicaris dead."