MR. MOLE AGAIN OUT OF LUCK.
Herbert Murray, attended by Chivey, was strolling down the principal
street of the town, smoking his cigar, thinking how he could yet serve
out young Jack, when he suddenly saw, on in front, the figure of an
elderly man, who appeared to walk with difficulty.
He made such uncertain steps and singular movements, as he hobbled
along by the aid of a stick, that the effect, however painful to him,
was ludicrous to the onlookers.
"Why, blest if it ain't old Mole, the man who came to bid young
Harkaway and his friends good-bye when we sailed," cried Chivey.
"Or his ghost," said Murray.
"I'll have a lark with him, sir," said the tiger, laying his finger
aside his nose, and winking knowingly. "You see!"
And walking nimbly and on tiptoe behind the old man, he soon caught up
to him without his knowing it.
Murray halted at a little distance, ready to behold and enjoy the
discomfiture of Mole.
The reader must be informed that the venerable Isaac was then
experimenting upon a new substitute for those unfortunate much damaged
members, his cork legs.
An American genius, with whom he had recently made acquaintance in the
town, had induced Mole to try a pair of his "new patent-elastic-spring-
non-fatiguing-self-regulating-undistinguishable-everlasting cork legs."
The inventor had helped Mr. Mole to put on these formidable
"understandings," and given him every instruction with regard to their
management.
"They'll be a little creaky at first," said the American; "nothing in
nature works slick when it's quite new, but when you get 'em well into
wear, they'll go along like greased lightning; now try them, old hoss."
Creaky indeed they were, for they made a noise almost as loud as a
railway break; but what was even worse was that the Yankee had failed
to inform Mole of the fact that the "new patent" etc., were only fitted
to act perfectly on a smooth surface.
Now the roadway, or footway--for they are all the same in those old
Turkish towns--are the very reverse of smooth, being principally
composed of round nubbly stones.
Consequently Mole's locomotion was the reverse of pleasant.
Chivey crept up behind the old schoolmaster, and seizing an opportunity
and one of his legs, gave it a pull, which caused Mole to roar with
fright.
Down, of course, came Mole on the nubbly pavement, but Chivey didn't
have exactly the fun he expected, for instead of his getting safely
away, Mole fell on him.
"Oh, it's you, is it? You, the bad servant of a bad man's wicked son,"
exclaimed the angered tutor; "it's you who dare to set upon defenceless
age and innocence, with its new cork legs on? Very good. Then take
that, and I hope you won't like it."
Whereat he began pommelling away at Chivey.
Chivey roared with all his might, till a small crowd of wondering
onlookers began to collect.
"What do you mean by daring to assault my servant in this manner?"
asked Murray sternly, as he came up.
"He attacked me first," protested Mole; "and it's my belief you set him
on to do it."
"How dare you insinuate----" began Murray, and he violently shook the
old man by the collar.
But there was more spirit in Mole than Herbert was prepared for.
By the aid of a post, the old man managed to struggle to his feet, and
leaning against this, he felt he could defy the enemy.
"My lad," he said, "it's evident that you didn't get enough flogging
when you were at school, or you'd know better manners; I must take you
in hand a bit now, sir, there!"
With his stick he gave a cut to the palm of Murray's hand, just as he
was wont to do to refractory pupils in the old days.
Murray was livid with rage.
Chivey, now rather afraid of Mole, didn't interfere.
"Come on, if you like, and have some more," said Mole, and shaking his
stick at both of them, he again urged on his wild career.
Very wild indeed it was, too.
Mole's patent legs, which outwardly looked natural ones, were indeed
self-regulating, for they were soon utterly beyond the control of the
wearer; they seemed to be possessed of wills of their own; one wished
to go to the right, the other to the left.
Sometimes they would carry him along in double quick march time, and
anon halt, beyond all his power of budging.
Of course the boys of the town were attracted by the stranger's
singular movements, and began to hoot and jeer.
The merchants were interrupted at their calculations, the bazaar
keepers came to their doors, long pipe in mouth, to see what the "son
of Sheitan" was about.
Mole was red in the face with such hard work.
"Confound the Turks," he cried; "why don't they make their roads
smoother? Oh, dear, I wish I could manage these unhappy legs; there
they go."
By this time the crowd had become unpleasantly dense around him.
"Out of the way, un-Christian dogs," cried Mole, flourishing his stick
round his head; "I'm an Englishman, and I've a right to--hallo! there
it goes again."
[Illustration: "'OUT OF THE WAY, UNCHRISTIAN DOGS,' CRIED
MOLE."--TINKER, VOL. II.]
For here his left leg took two steps to the right, and he came down
with all his weight upon the toe of a white-bearded Alla-hissite.
"Son of a dog," growled the old Turk, as he rubbed his pet corn in
agony; "may your mother's grave be defiled, and the jackass bray over
your father's bones."
"I really beg your pardon," began Mole, but just at this moment his
right leg was taken with a spasmodic action, and began to stride along
at a furious rate, creaking like mad.
Mole lost all control (if he ever had any) over his own movements, and
was carried forward again, till he came where Herbert Murray and
Chivey, having made a _detour_, happened to be just turning the
corner of the street.
"Stop me," yelled Mole, as he flourished his stick over his head; "my
spring legs are doing what they like with me. I have no control over
them. Oh, dear, they are at it again."
Chivey, undeterred by his recent castigation, thought he would repeat
the trick, so, when Mole came up, he, by a dexterous jerk, turned him
round as on a pivot.
He was thus stopped in his forward course, but this didn't check the
action of his clockwork legs, which now scudded along as swiftly as
before, into the very heart of the yelling crowd.
The result was rather bad for the Turks; they went down like a lot of
ninepins before Mole's railway-like progression.
"A mad Christian," they cried; "he is possessed with a devil; down with
him."
The perspiration streamed from Mole's face; he felt that if the
spring-work in his new cork legs did not stop, he should die.
At this moment a body of women approached, closely veiled.
Their _yashmaks_ obscured all but their eyes, which could be seen to
open wide in wonder at the extraordinary behaviour of the red-faced
giaour.
Two of the younger and slender ones fell with piercing screams before
Mole's impetuous charge.
A third, a stout woman of middle age, stood her ground, and Mole,
before he could stop himself, rushed into her arms, and floored her.
The scream she gave surpassed in loudness that of all the others put
together; and brought up several ferocious-looking Turks, bent on
condignly punishing the outrageous conduct of the mad Englishman.
"Death to the giaour; down with him!" roared the excited crowd.
What fate he would have suffered we dread to think, but he found an
unexpected deliverer in the person of the old white-bearded Turk, whose
corns he had trodden on.
"Defile not your hands with the blood of the unbeliever," he said; "but
take him before the cadi to answer his conduct."
"To the cadi, to the cadi!" was now the cry.
"Hear me," said Mole, astonishing himself by his proficiency in
Turkish; "I am not to blame, but at all events, take up those two other
Englishmen who assaulted me."
He pointed to Murray and Chivey, who had by this time got into a dense
crowd of Turks, whom they were elbowing in an angry manner.
"Take all the infidels before the cadi," cried the Turks.
Herbert Murray and Chivey were accordingly seized, and the whole three
borne off to one doom.
The cadi was seated in his divan, administering justice, as was his
custom, in the open air.
His style of doing so was summary, but vigorous.
"Let the giaour, who has unwarrantably assaulted the true believers,
receive one hundred lashes," he said; "or pay fifty pieces of silver to
our treasury."
"I haven't got the money," said Mole.
"Then receive the punishment," said the cadi.
This time there was no ceremony used; two negroes bound Mole, pulled
off his shoes and stockings, and exposed to view the new patent steel
clock-work legs.
"Allah, what have we here?" cried the cadi. "Is the Christian
enchanted, to be half man, half machinery?"
"My lord," said Mole, "if you'll only permit me to speak, I'll explain
all.
"Having lost my legs in the wars, helping the Turks to beat their foes,
I have been induced to try as a substitute this new invention, and
behold, the legs were enchanted, and I had no control over them."
"Allah kerim! Can this be?" exclaimed the cadi.
"That was the whole reason of my conduct, your excellency," pursued
Mole; "otherwise, I would perish sooner than have attacked true
believers. But these infidels," he added, pointing to Murray and
Chivey, "first attacked me, as many here may bear witness."
"If that be so," said the magistrate, "we will remit your sentence on
payment of fifty sequins."
"Gladly would I pay the sum if I had it," said Mole; "but I haven't."
"Search him," cried the cadi.
Mole was searched, but the investigations of the officer could not
bring to light a greater sum in his pockets than a bad sixpence and a
battered fourpenny-piece.
"Little enough," grumbled the cadi, pocketing the amount; "but as it is
all you have, I consent to take it. We must have it out of the other
infidels; they too are English, and look rich. Bring them before me."
Herbert Murray and Chivey were accordingly examined.
Mole gave evidence as to their assaulting him, though they utterly
denied doing so, but Mole's statement being backed up by several
believers who had witnessed it, the judge declared both guilty, and
sentenced them to the bastinado.
"Me bastinadoed!" exclaimed the indignant Murray,. "I'd have you know,
sir, that I'm an Englishman of rank, of influence, of property,
and----"
"Of influence, eh? Very good; then you'll have to pay a fine of five
hundred sequins," cried the cadi, exultantly.
"I swear that I haven't----"
"Search the infidels," cried the cadi.
The officers did so, and altogether twenty-five pounds, in gold, notes
and silver, were found upon Murray and Chivey.
With an audible chuckle, the cadi took possession of it all.
"There," he said; "so now go in peace, all of you; and if I find you
making another disturbance in the town, it will be bastinado and gaol,
as well as a fine. Go, infidels, and remember the grand Turk."