Jack Harkaways Boy Tinker Among The Turks | Page 3

"Oh, it's dreadful, Jack."
"The greater the man, the greater the polygamist. A pasha has as many

wives as he can keep, and more too. The pasha of this province is not
rich for his rank, and for his matrimonial proclivities."
"Lor'!"
"How many wives should you suppose he has?" asked Jack, with an air
of deep gravity.
"Don't know," replied the orphan, quietly.
"Ninety-eight living."
Mr. Figgins jumped up and dropped his chibouk.
"Never."
"A fact," asserted Jack, with gravity.
"Why, the man must be a regular Bluebeard."
"You've hit it, sir," responded Jack; "that's the sort of man he is."
"Well, that is all very well for the Turks and for these old sinners the
pashas, but I am an Englishman."
"This is the way it will most likely be done," continued Jack. "On your
presentation to his excellency the pasha, you are expected to make
some present. The pasha makes a return visit of ceremony, and leaves
behind him some solid evidence of his liberality."
"Well?"
"Well, but the very highest compliment that a pasha can pay you is to
leave you one of his wives. He generally makes it an old stock-keeper,
something that has been a good thirty years or so in the seraglio."
Mr. Figgins took the liveliest interest in this narrative.
He was growing rapidly convinced of the truth of Jack's descriptions of

these singular manners and customs of the country in which they were.
Yet he eyed Jack as one who has a lingering doubt.
"Ahem!" said Mr. Figgins, "I don't think that I shall join you on your
visit ashore in the morning."
"We'll see in the morning," said Jack; "it's a pity to put off your trip for
the sake of such a trifling danger as that of having a wife or so given to
you."
"It's no use," said Mr. Figgins, "my mind is fully made up; I shall not
visit the pasha."
"It will be taken as a grave insult to go ashore without paying your
respects to his excellency."
"I can't help that," returned the orphan, resolutely; "I won't visit him."
"Mr. Figgins," said Jack, in a voice of deep solemnity, "these Turks are
cruel, vindictive, and revengeful. The last Englishman who refused was,
by order of the pasha, skinned alive, placed on the sunny side of a wall,
and blown to death by flies."
"Surely the Turks are not such barbarians," said Mr. Figgins.
"You'll find they are. They'd think no more of polishing you off than of
killing a fly."
If that rascal Jack intended to make poor Mr. Figgins uneasy, he
certainly succeeded very well.
Mr. Figgins looked supremely miserable.
"Good night, Mr. Figgins. Think it over."
"I tell you I----"
"Never mind, don't decide too rashly. Pleasant dreams."

"Pleasant dreams," said the orphan. "I shall have the nightmare."
The orphan's pillow was haunted that night by visions of a terrible
nature.
He fancied himself in the presence of a turbaned Turk, a powerful
pasha, who was sitting cross-legged on an ottoman, smoking a pipe, of
endless length, and holding in his hand a drawn sword--a scimitar that
looked ready to chop his head off.
Beside this terrible Turk stood five ladies, in baggy trousers, and long
veils.
No words were spoken, but instinctively the orphan knew that he had to
decide between the scimitar and the quintet of wives--wall-flowers of
the pasha's harem.
Silently, in mute horror, the orphan was about to submit to the least of
the two evils, and choose a wife.
Then he awoke suddenly.
What an immense relief it was to find it only a dream after all.
"I don't quite believe that young Harkaway," said the orphan, dubiously;
"he is such a dreadful practical joker. But I won't go on shore,
nevertheless. It's not very interesting to see these savages, after all; they
really are nothing more than savages."
And after a long and tedious time spent in endeavouring to get to sleep
again, he dropped off.
But only to dream again about getting very much married.
* * * *
He slept far into the morning, for his dreams had disturbed him much,
and he was tired out.

When he awoke, there was someone knocking at his cabin door.
"Come in."
"It's only me, Mr. Figgins," said a familiar voice.
"Come in, captain."
Captain Deering entered.
"Not up yet, Mr. Figgins?" he said, in surprise. "We've got visitors
aboard already."
"Dear me."
"Distinguished visitors. The pasha and his suite."
"You don't say so?" exclaimed the orphan, sitting up.
"Fact, sir," returned the captain. "It must be ten years since I last had
the honour of an interview with his excellency."
"You know him, then, Captain Deering?"
"Rather. Been here often. Know every inch of the country," said the
captain.
"What sort