Jack Harkaway's Boy Tinker Among The Turks by Bracebridge Hemyng (books for men to read .txt) 📕

the place Jack and Harry were stopping at.

"Meanwhile my only recommendation is, young gentlemen, that you don't get yourselves embroiled in any way with the native folks here any more. The Mussulmen are fierce and fanatical, and the least provocation may make them burst out into wildness."

The speaker was Captain Deering, and the occasion of it was the eve of another projected trip by Jack Harkaway and Harry Girdwood.

"We shall be careful, captain," said the latter.

"Of course," said Deering, with a merry twinkling in his eye; "you always are."

"Always."

"There's not much to fear, captain," said Jack, lightly.

"Oh, yes, there is," responded Deering, quickly, "very much."

"How?"

"Why, very little will provoke a Mussulman when he has to deal with a Christian."

"But no one would be indelicate enough to show a want of respect to their religious scruples," answered Harry.

"I don't see how we can interfere with them at all," said Jack. "Why should the question of religion be raised?"

"Not by you," returned Captain Deering, "but by them, for they will at any time unite to fall upon an unlucky Christian if opposed to a Mussulman in a dispute, should the Turk choose to invoke their aid against the unbelievers, as they stigmatise the Christians."

"Well, captain," said Jack, who jibbed at being lectured, "you need not fear for us; we shall be careful enough."

"No doubt, Master Jack," returned the captain, drily. "You're a mild spring chicken, you are; it is only that wild, rampagious companion of yours that I want you to look after."

Saying which, he left the two boys to their own devices.

"That's a nasty jar," said Harry, with a chuckle.

Tinker and Bogey were their only companions.

Jack and Harry had taken the orphan once more under their protection since his narrow escape from the trial he had passed through with the bashaw, and hearing from the orphan the description of the Turk he had bought his dress from, they resolved to pay him a visit.

In the bazaar there were Turks, Greeks, Armenians, Arabs, and a motley collection of coloured people.

The Turkish dealers sat at their stalls, pushing trade in a taciturn manner, speaking little, it is true, but when they did make a remark, it was to tell lies with earnest gravity about their wares.

"If you could only speak Turkish as glibly as you did to Mr. Figgins," said Harry Girdwood, "you should go and cheapen a fez for me, Jack."

"I could manage that, Harry," replied Jack.

"No, no," said Harry; "remember what the poor orphan suffered through buying his Turkish dress."

"Bother that," returned Jack. "Let's go and have a lark with that chap selling the slippers."

"Be careful."

There were several slipper vendors present.

Jack picked up a pair of slippers and inquired the price.

The dealer gave him an odd look.

Jack looked round to Harry Girdwood for assistance.

"I can't help you," returned Harry. "Ask him again."

"What's the figure, old Turkey rhubarb?" asked Jack, bowing as if paying the merchant a compliment.

The Turk replied with the same gravity.

"He don't appear to understand," said Harry Girdwood. "Try him in St. Giles's Greek?"

"What's the damage for the brace of trotter boxes, old Flybynight?" demanded young Harkaway, looking as solemn as a judge.

The Turkish merchant repeated the price in his native tongue, and they made no progress in their deal.

While they were thus engaged, who should come into the bazaar but Nat Cringle, and with him their old friend the Irish diver?

"I'll put it to him. Mayhap he'll understand me. What an illigant ould thafe it is," said the diver, when he had waited some time for a reply.

"Why don't ye answer, ye dirrty ould spalpeen?" he demanded, after a pause. "Be gorra, av ye don't sphake, I'll give ye one wid my twig."

Saying which, he flourished his shillelagh before the slipper merchant's face, and then gave him a smart tap on his head.

The grave old Turk then found his tongue, and the reply was such a startler, that the four travellers were knocked off their moral equilibrium.

"Tare and 'ounds, ye blackyard omadhauns! Ye thavin' Saxin vaggybones! ave ye'd only thread on the tail av me coat, so as to give me a gintlemanly excuse for blackin' yer squintin' eyes, I'd knock yez into next Monday week, the blessed lot av yez!"

The four visitors stared at each other in wonder.

They had not a word to say for themselves.

No wonder that it took their breath away.

The Irish diver was the first to find his tongue.

"By the blessed piper that played before Moses, here's an Irish Turk!"

"Stop that!" ejaculated the slipper merchant; "av ye call me names, I'll have a go at yez av ye was as big as a house."

"Ye're Paddy from Cork," retorted the diver.

"Niver," protested the merchant, stoutly.

"Get along wid yez," retorted the diver, "ye Mahommedan Mormonite; now I'll take short odds to any amount up to a farden that that brogue came from Galway. Tell the truth, and shame the ould gintleman as shall be nameless."

The Turk had an inward struggle, and then he confessed. He was an Irishman, settled for some years in Turkey.

"But devil a word must ye say. Ye'll spoil me shop entirely," he said, "av the folks hereabout takes me for a Christian gintleman, and I shall be kilt intirely."

CHAPTER LXVIII.

PADDY MAHMOUD PLAYS THE PASHA—LOCAL STATISTICS—VISIT TO THE KONAKI—HOSPITALITY VERSUS AL KORAN.

The Irish Turk contrived, after some talk, that our friends should procure an entry into the palace of the pasha.

"Back stairs infloonce, me boys," said the Irish Turk, with a wink, "is an illigant institooshn, and is jist as privlint here, sorrs, as it is in St. James's or at the castle."

"How do you work it?"

"I have my own particular pals, which shall be nameless, at the pasha's palace."

"Officers?"

The Irish Turk looked very demure and replied—

"Not exactly officers; officeresses, ye understand."

"You're a terrible Turk, Paddy," laughed young Jack.

"When shall we be able to get over the palace?" demanded Harry Girdwood.

"Come to me in the course of to-morrow afternoon," said the Irish Turk.

"We will."

This arranged, they strolled through the bazaar, trading and bartering with the dealers, and making an odd collection of purchases, to take home as curiosities.

But of all the curiosities, the most remarkable was perhaps a pair of real Egyptian mummies, which they discovered in the possession of a shrewd and greedy old Arab.

"We shall have quite an extensive museum," said Jack.

"Blessed if I care to see a brace o' stiff uns on board," growled Nat Cringle.

"We shall not for the present take them on board," said Jack; "we shall first take them to our rooms. We shall find some use for the mummies, eh, Harry?"

"I believe you, my boy," said Harry. "We'll name the mummies Mole and the orphan. Ha, ha!"

Well, that same afternoon, as agreed upon, young Jack and Harry Girdwood presented themselves at the residence of the Irish Turk, Paddy Mahmoud Ben Flannigan, as the boys had christened him.

They had got themselves up à la Turc.

Tinker and his attendant Bogey were also suitably attired.

They found the Irishman seated upon the floor with his legs under him.

He arose as the guests entered, and advanced to greet them politely.

"Make yourselves at home, gentlemen," he said, "and say what'll ye take before we get along."

Jack tipped the wink to his companion.

"I'd like a little nip of something to cure the belly-ache," he answered slily.

"Ye can have that same," responded their host.

He went to a cupboard, and produced a stumpy, but capacious bottle, and three glasses.

"Whatever is that?" said Harry, in affected surprise.

"A drop of the crater," responded Paddy Mahmoud, pouring it out.

"Here's your health," said Harry Girdwood.

The two lads nodded at their host, and sipped.

The Irish Turk tossed off his whisky at a gulp.

"When shall you be ready to go up to the palace?" asked Jack.

"All in good time," returned the host. "In the first place, it is not called the palace."

"What then?"

"The Konaki."

"Konaki!"

"That's it. Now I'll show you exactly how to conduct yourselves when you are presented at court," he said.

Three servants entered, carrying three pipes, each of the same size, and each having jewelled amber mouth-pieces.

The servants drew themselves up like automatons, each placing his right hand on his heart.

The next moment they were inhaling their first draught of some wonderful tobacco, the host keeping up the traditional Turkish custom of puffing half a minute or so before the guests.

When they had puffed away in silence for some little time, the servants returned.

One of them carried a crimson napkin, richly embroidered with gold, thrown over his left shoulder.

And others carried a coffee tray, upon which were cups of elegant filagree work.

Each of the guests were presented with a cup of coffee—not very nice according to our notions, being thick, unstrained and unsweetened.

Yet the Turks are considered the only people who really understand the art of making coffee.

This disposed of, the servants retired.

"Now," says the host, "that's just what ye'll have to do when you go up to the Konaki, to be, so to speak, presented at court. When you go visiting his excellency the pasha on any business, no matter how pressing it may be, you mustn't speak of it until the pipes and the coffee have been got through. You have only to observe this little customary bit of etiquette, and all will go on merrily as a marriage bell."

"Have you ever seen the pasha yourself?" asked Jack.

"Often."

"What's he like?"

"Every inch a gentleman."

This rather surprised them.

"Now let's come off, and you shall see over the Konaki."

CHAPTER LXIX.

THE JOYS OF THE SERAGLIO—A GROUP OF PEEPING THOMASES—THE CIRCASSIAN SLAVES—TINKER AND BOGEY ARE IN FOR IT—THE ALARM—ATTEMPTED RESCUE—AWAY WITH THEM—THE IRISHMAN TELLS A FEW WHITE ONES TO A PURPOSE.

The slipper merchant had selected a favourable moment for their visit to the Konaki.

The pasha—or to speak more correctly, the pasha's deputy, for it was the deputy that had imposed upon the poor orphan—was absent from the house temporarily, and so they were able to walk about whither they listed, thanks to the backstairs influence of which their friend and guide had boasted.

The head of the pasha's household was the person to whom they owed this unusual privilege.

There was not a great deal to see in the Konaki now that they were there, and their visit would probably have been cut very short had they not been attracted by sounds of distant music just as they were upon the point of leaving.

"What's that?" said Jack.

"That's from the seraglio," returned their conductor; "some Circassian girls that have just been sent as a present to the pasha are very clever dancers, it is said."

Jack pricked up his ears at this.

"Come on," he said, moving forward briskly.

"To this seraglio?"

"Aye."

"Why, you rash boy," said the Irish Turk, with a frightened look, "do you know what you are talking about?"

"Well, yes, I think so," said Jack; "dancing Circassian girls and the seraglio was the topic of the conversation, unless I am wandering in my mind."

"Faith, ye must be mad," said the Irishman, gravely; "why, they'd think hanging too good for any man that even looked at the harem."

"So should I," returned Jack; "I've no wish to be hanged; it's too good for me. Come on."

"Don't be foolish; it's death, if we're caught."

"All right," said Jack, cheerfully; "it's sure then that we mustn't be caught, but I don't mean to miss the chance all the same."

The Irishman resisted stoutly.

But Jack was more obstinate than he was, and so the Irishman was forced to yield a point.

"I know where there's a gallery that overlooks the harem, and you can see all the fun of the fair without being observed."

"You seem to know the place very well," said Jack.

"Very."

"But of course you have never been to this identical gallery before?" said Jack, innocently.

"Never—never."

His eagerness to impress this upon them told its own tale.

"I should think that's true, Jack," said Harry, demurely.

"Oh, yes, quite," said Jack, winking at Harry.

The Irishman led the way along a paved passage, at the end of which was an arched entrance to an apartment, closed off only by a heavy curtain.

"You see