THE GREAT MOLEY MOLE PASHA.
Such an important event as the arrival of a new governor naturally
caused a great deal of excitement among the worthy inhabitants of the
remote town.
They came out in crowds to greet him, headed by all the inferior
functionaries, and a military guard of honour conducted him to the old
castle, which had been fitted up as a sumptuous official residence.
Two things puzzled his new subjects; the fact of his arrival being two
days before the appointed time, and the circumstance of the new pasha,
who was apparently a Turk, returning their greetings through an
interpreter.
However, none had any doubt of the reality of his appointment, and the
production of the sultan's firman at once made the old cadi, or
magistrate, who had been temporarily put in command, give way to his
superior.
Briefly let us explain these circumstances.
It was another hoax, and a most daring and gigantic one, on the part of
Jack and his friends, upon their long-suffering tutor.
Having ascertained that the town of Alla-hissar was actually waiting
for its new governor, the real pasha, who was to arrive from
Constantinople in two days' time, Jack and the others hit upon the idea
of making the situation the basis of a grand practical joke.
The _firman_ was of course a forged document, written by the old
interpreter, who was in the plot, and the Turkish officer who had
presented it to Mole was no other than our friend the diver.
The waiter, the orphan, and the two nigger boys had also effectually
disguised themselves, and became members of Mole's escort.
A skilful combination enabled them to carry out the details of their
plan with such success as to deceive not only Mole himself, but the
simple pastoral folks of Alla-hissar itself.
Moley Pasha, as he now styled himself, was in all his glory.
"This is a proud day," he observed to Jack, as he gazed round on the
handsome residence provided for him. "Little did I imagine that old
Isaac would ever live to come out in all the glories of an Oriental
magnate. Jack, we must let your dear father know of this."
"We will, sir; but now let us congratulate you," answered our hero.
"The more especially as you've promoted us to such high positions."
Moley, the pasha, now retired to his private apartments to rest until
the hour arrived for his first council.
During this time, he was coached up by the old interpreter, and by his
aid, Moley Pasha found himself able to receive the reports and
congratulations of subordinates in the government, and to try several
cases brought before him.
After three hours of arduous public duties, the pasha and his friends
retired to his private apartments, which were fitted up with every
Oriental luxury.
"By Jove!--I mean by the Prophet!" exclaimed the new potentate, "I am
getting on like a house on fire; but I am still mortal, and need
refreshment, not having had anything to speak of to-day, beyond a cup
of coffee with a dash of brandy in it."
Dinner being served up (in the Turkish style) the pasha grew still more
enthusiastic.
"Yes, this is a delightful life," he said; "it only wants the presence
of lovely woman to render it perfect. Now, if Mrs. Mole Number One or
Number Two or Three were here----"
"Oh, I forgot," suddenly broke in Jack, looking very serious. "That
reminds me, there was one most important subject I had to speak to you
about. The late pasha had thirteen wives."
"How awful," exclaimed Mole. "But what is that to do with me?"
"A good deal; they are now left, by his sudden death, desolate widows,
and it is expected that you, as his sucessor, should take them under
your protection. They go with the premises, like the stock and fixtures
of a business."
"Heaven above! you don't mean that?" exclaimed Moley Pasha, becoming
much agitated, and pausing ere he quaffed a goblet of champagne, which
he drank under the name of sparkling French sherbet.
"It's quite true, though, isn't it, Abdullah?" turning to the dragoman.
"It's true as the Koran, itself," returned Jack. "Every pasha of
Alla-hissar must have thirteen wives."
"Good heaven! what'll Mrs. Mole say?" exclaimed Mole, in great
agitation; "hang it, you know, this will never do--Isaac Mole with
thirteen wives. I always thought I was very much married already, quite
as much as I want to be."
"Unless your excellency agrees," continued the interpreter, "I won't
answer for the consequences."
"I have had three wives already, and now you wish me to take thirteen.
I'd sooner resign my government at once," exclaimed Mole.
"Impossible!" returned the dragoman; "it is death to resist the
sultan's firman."
"Powers above! what a situation am I in!" exclaimed Mole, in increasing
dismay. "I find it's not all roses after all, being a pasha; but
thorns, stinging nettles, and torturing brambles. But about these
thirteen widows, Abdullah? Who and where are they, and what are they
like?"
"They are at present in a house not far off from here," was the reply;
"five of them, it seems, have been the widows of the pasha before last,
and they are rather old; six belonged only to Youssouf Pasha, and are
middle-aged."
Mr. Mole responded with a deep groan.
"The other two," proceeded Abdullah, "are fair Circassians in the very
summer of youth and beauty."
Moley Pasha uttered a profound sigh.
"Ah, that's much better."
"I expect they will be here soon, at least some of them," said
Abdullah, the interpreter.
The subject then dropped for a time, and the great Moley also
dropped--asleep, from the combined effects of the pipe, the coffee, and
the wine.
He was suddenly awakened by Abdullah shouting in his ear--
"May it please your excellency, they've come."
"Who--who?" gasped Mole, in fearful terror; for he had just been
dreaming of the rack and the bowstring.
"The noble Ladies Alme and Hannifar, widows of the late lamented
Youssouf-Pasha," was the reply.
"Gracious mercy!" exclaimed the persecuted Mole; "they've come to claim
me, perhaps to bear me off by main force."
"Ho, there, guards; stand round; not without a struggle will Isaac Mole
surrender his liberty as a single man, that is as a married man, but
not--Heaven, my brain is growing utterly confused in this terrible
position. Where's that boy Jack?"
"Their excellencies Yakoob and Haroun Pasha are both gone out," was the
response.
"Then, Abdullah, I command you to stand up in my defence. Come here."
The old interpreter approached with a low bow.
"Write on two pieces of card the words--'Admire Moley Pasha, but touch
not him.'"
"In Turkish?"
"Turkish and English, too."
"Pasha, to hear is to obey."
At this moment a young negro attendant announced--
"The Ladies Alme and Hannifar are impatient to be admitted to your
sublime presence."
"Let them wait; it will do them good," cried Mole, desperately. "Have
you written it, Abdullah?"
"One moment, your highness," was the reply. "There," he added,
finishing up with an elaborate flourish; "all will understand that. And
now what am I to do with them?"
"Fasten one notice on my back, and the other on my chest," answered
Mole, "so that the ladies may understand and keep at a respectful
distance. That's right. Be still, my trembling heart. Now you can admit
them."
The negro drew aside the curtains of the chamber, and two female forms
of majestic height and proportions, in gorgeous Oriental costumes, but
closely veiled, entered.
They made a very graceful salute to the pasha, and were walking
straight up to him, when he sprang backwards, and leaping upon a high
sofa, turned his back to them, not in contempt, but in order that they
might read the Turkish inscription thereon inscribed.
Then he turned and pointed to it on his breast in English.
Far, however, from being struck with awe and covered with confusion,
the ladies were highly amused and laughed consumedly.
"What are they smiling at?" asked Mole, somewhat indignantly.
"Only at the felicitous ingenuity of your highness's idea," answered
the interpreter, pointing to the placard.
"Well, I hope they understand, and will abide by it," said Mole,
venturing to step off the sofa.
But the moment he did so, the foremost, who, he understood was the Lady
Alme, and was certainly of an impulsive disposition, sprang forward as
if to embrace Mole.
"Save me!" he cried. "To the rescue, guards, attendants, Jack, Harry.
Where can they have got to? Help, help! Mrs. Mole, come to the rescue
of your poor Mole."
The old interpreter, with some dexterity, flung himself between them,
just in the nick of time to avert from Mole the fair Circassian's
effusive greeting.
"'Tis our Eastern custom," explained the dragoman. "Her ladyship is
only expressing her delight at beholding her new lord and master."
"Tell them I am nothing of the kind, and I have got a wife in England,"
answered the pasha.
Abdullah did so, whereupon the ladies set up a series of piercing
shrieks and lamentations.
"What in the world's the matter with them?" asked Mole, greatly
dismayed.
"They are desolated at the thought of having incurred your sublimity's
displeasure."
"Tell them that they had no business to come unless I sent for them,"
said Mole.
"They say, O magnificent pasha, that, hearing of your arrival, they
have come thither in the name of themselves, and the other eleven
ladies of his late highness's harem, to know when it will be your
princely pleasure to bid them cast aside the sombre weeds of widowhood,
and----"
"There, cut it short, dragoman; do you mean that they really expect me
to marry the whole lot of them?"
"Precisely so, your eminence; even now the most reverend imaum of the
town is ready to perform the ceremonial."
"He'll have to wait a long time if he waits for that," cried Mole;
"thirteen wives, indeed, and these you say are the youngest of the lot.
I suppose they have no objection to allow me to behold the moonshine of
their resplendent features. That's the way to put it, I believe, old
man."
Abdullah answered--
"It is against Turkish etiquette to unveil before the solemn ceremony
has been performed; nevertheless, their ladyships consent to remove one
of their veils, through which you may behold their features."
Alme and Hannifar accordingly threw back their outer black veils, and
appeared with the white ones underneath.
Mole scrutinized them as well as he could, but he took very good care
not to go too near.
"And so, Abdullah, you tell me that these two are the youngest of the
whole lot?"
"Indeed, they are, your eminence; famous beauties of pure Circassian
descent; each originally cost five thousand piastres, and they surpass
the remainder even as the mighty sun doth the twinkling stars."
"Then all I can say is," returned Mole, "that I shudder to think what
the eleven others must be like. Just tell the ladies Alme and Hannifar
that, as far as I can see, from here, I don't think much of them."
"I will put your message more mildly."
And having spoken to the ladies again, he said--
"Their ladyships are enchanted to find so much favour in the eyes of
your excellency."
"Thirteen wives," mused Mole, scarcely heeding the last reply. "It is
preposterous--though nothing it seems, compared to some of the Turkish
grandees. But fancy old Isaac Mole--ha, ha! really it's quite amusing.
Why, the mere marrying so many would be a hard day's work, Abdullah."
"The ceremony would be slightly wearisome, your highness."
"Yes, but I should require thirteen wedding rings--ha, ha, ha!--the
idea of thirteen wedding rings being used at once, and by one man."
"Don't let that be any objection," said Abdullah; "for the ladies tell
me they have come provided with exactly the number of rings requisite
for the purpose."
Sure enough, Alme detached from her fair neck an elastic band, whereon
were strung thirteen bright gold rings.
Mole was fairly staggered by this determined preparation on the part of
the irresistible enslavers.
"They mean to have me," he gasped. "I see how it is; they come here
with the intention of dragging me to the late pasha's mansion, and
marrying me by main force."
"It looks like it," answered the interpreter, "for I find that they
have brought with them a dozen of the harem-guard, fully armed."
"Then I am indeed lost," cried Mole. "But no, I'll die game. Here,
help, guards, soldiers, fly to the rescue of your pasha. Oh! Mrs. Mole,
where are you now? Your poor Mole is in danger."
As Mole uttered the piteous lament we have recorded, both ladies made a
combined charge at him, with a wild shriek and a sudden outburst in
Turkish, which might have been either a chorus of endearments or of
reproaches.
Alme got behind him and flung her arms around his neck with such vigour
that he was nearly strangled, Hannifar attacking him in the same way
from the front.
In the pressure of this combined assault he was powerless; struggle as
he would, he could not detach himself from their overwhelming embrace.
His cries for help were smothered.
His turban was knocked over his eyes.
He could feel the placards being torn from him, and himself being
hauled hither and thither by the ladies who seemed fighting for the
sole possession of him.
At length, by a gigantic effort, he freed himself and raised a cry of
alarm that might have aroused the dead, but in that effort, he stumbled
and fell on his back over a pile of sofa cushions.
Roused by his cries, the military and body guard of the pashalik rushed
in, and the whole house was in an uproar.
When Mole had been again uplifted to his feet, and was gasping forth
confused explanations, he perceived that the Ladies Alme and Hannifar
had mysteriously levanted.