Chapter 15

A TREMENDOUS RISE FOR MR. MOLE.

The quarrel between the two had been so far made up, that when they awoke from their _siesta_, and the fumes of the alcohol had subsided, neither of them seemed to remember any thing about the matter.

The party got safely home without encountering either robbers, snakes, wolves, thunderstorms, or any other dangerous being or foes whatever.

The next day, however, commenced for Mr. Mole an adventure which at the outset promised to form an exciting page in his life.

He was walking through the streets and bazaars of the town, Jack on one side of him, Harry on the other, though the reader, at first glance, would probably not have recognised any of them.

Harkaway and Girdwood presented the appearance of Ottoman civilians belonging to the "Young Turkey" party, whilst the venerable tutor stalked along in full fig as a magnificent robed and turbaned Turk of the old school.

It had become quite a mania with Isaac to turn himself as far as he possibly could into a Moslem.

He had taken quite naturally to the Turkish tobacco, and the national mode of smoking it through a chibouque, or water-pipe.

But in outward appearance Mr. Mole had certainly succeeded in turning Turk, more especially as he had fixed on a large false grey beard, which matched beautifully with his green and gold turban.

He had again mounted his cork legs, and encased his cork feet with splendid-fitting patent leather boots, and Mole felt happy.

"They take me for a pasha of three tails, don't you think so?" he delightedly asked his companions.

"Half a dozen tails at least, I should say," returned Jack, "and of course they take us for a couple of your confidential attendants."

"In that case, I must walk before you, and adopt a proud demeanour, to show my superiority," said Mole.

So whilst Jack and Harry dropped humbly in the rear, he strode forward with a haughty stiffness of dignity, which his two cork legs rather enhanced than otherwise.

"Holloa!" exclaimed Harry, suddenly; "who's this black chap coming up to us, bowing and scraping like a mandarin?"

He alluded to a tall dark man, apparently of the Arab race, but dressed in the full costume of a Turkish officer, who, dismounting his horse, approached Mole with the most elaborate Oriental obeisances, and held out to him a folded parchment.

Mole took the document with a stiff bow, opened it and found it to be a missive in Turkish, which, notwithstanding his studies in that direction, he could not for the world make out.

But unembarrassed by this, he turned to Harry Girdwood, and making a gesture, indicating his own inability to read it without his spectacles, motioned him to do so for him.

"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Harry, in amazement. "It is the imperial seal of the Sultan. Mole, old man, you have been mistaken for a pasha."

"Is it possible?" cried Mole; "but what does it say?"

"Imperial Palace, Stamboul. "In the name of Allah and the Prophet. "To his Excellency Moley Pasha.

"This is to certify that, in consequence of the lamented death of Youssouf Bey, Pasha of Alla-hissar, I am commanded by our sublime master to appoint and instal you into the said government of the city and province of Alla-hissar. Therefore you are commanded at once to proceed thither, under an escort which will be in readiness at the door of your hotel at five o'clock in the morning, after you receive this. Given at the Sublime Porte by Ali Hussein Pasha, Grand Vizier to His Imperial Majesty the Padishah."

* * * *

Mr. Mole turned pale with anxiety.

"This is very serious," he exclaimed; "but I fully expect to become a king before I die, but in this case, what shall I do?"

"Why, become a pasha," said Jack; "it will be worth your while. We'll give you our assistance."

"But how am I to answer the messenger?" asked Mole.

"No necessity to answer him; make signs that you obey the sultan's mandate; you know how they do it."

Mole accordingly folded the firman again, placed it to his forehead, and then to his heart, bowing all the time with the most profound respect.

The messenger evidently quite understood, for he bowed too, and rode away rapidly.

"That's what you call having greatness thrust upon you, eh, Mole?" said Jack.

"I don't much care about it," answered the tutor. "I don't believe I shall be able to carry out the character of a pasha. It's a dangerous game."

"Nonsense," said our hero; "if they choose to make a mistake, it's their lookout."

"I shall find it a mistake when I come to be bowstringed, or hanged, or shot, or something of that kind," said the tutor; "but, Jack, my dear boy, I depend upon you to pull me through."

"No fear," answered Jack; "you're a great man, Mr. Mole, and no doubt the authorities, becoming aware of your merits, have really made choice of you as the governor of the pashalik."

"But they must know that I'm not a Turk," objected Mole.

"That doesn't matter," said Jack; "not only Turks, but Greeks, Americans, Italians, French, all sorts of people are in power in this country."

The excitement of the moment and the influence of some spirituous liquid he had taken before starting, so far bewildered Mr. Mole's intellect, that he actually accepted Jack's explanation.

"Hang it, I will be pasha," he cried; "and risk all. Haven't I got the sultan's own firman?" and he flourished that important document round his head in the most defiant manner.

"That's right," said Jack; "keep up that spirit, and you'll make your fortune. Remember, first thing to-morrow you are to be conducted to your seat of government; the guard of honour will be at the door of your hotel at five o'clock, you will reach Alla-hissar about ten, and to-morrow morning you'll begin your public duties."

"What will your father say, Jack, when he hears of this? But I hope you won't desert me, my dear boys," said Mole, imploringly.

"We'll go with you," answered Harry.

"Rather!" acquiesced Jack. "We'll never leave you, old boy."

The remainder of the day was spent by Mole in the further study of Turkish.

These exertions were fatiguing, and Mr. Mole was tired when he retired, as he expressed it.

He was not long falling asleep, and dreams of glory, power, and magnificence filled his slumbers.

He was just dreaming he had been elected sultan when he was suddenly and rudely awakened by a terrible knocking at the door.

Mole started up, and was told that he must prepare in a great hurry, for the escort had already arrived.

The tutor, still half asleep, looked out of the window, and in the day dawn he discerned a small body of horsemen at the door of the hotel.

Mole felt that he could never get into those elaborate Turkish robes without assistance; luckily at this juncture young Jack put in an opportune appearance, and offered to help him.

"You'll have to make haste, pasha," said our hero; "strikes me you've rather overslept yourself. Where is your beard?"

"Here it is," returned Mole; "but why didn't some of you wake me before? I was so busy dreaming that I was sultan, and--that's right, my boy, help me on with the cork legs and boots, that's the worst difficulty, and then all these things, and lastly the turban and beard."

"I'll get Harry to help me," pursued Jack; "you'll have proper attendants when you are installed in the palace. Remember what we agreed upon last night; we are to pass off as your two sons, under the names of Yakoob and Haroun Pasha."

"Just so," said Mole; "but I expected a larger escort than those half a dozen men there. I would not go through this, my boy, if I thought future history would not give me a glorious page."

"Oh, don't fear, sir, this will be something grand for you; at the gate of the town you will be met by a regular guard of honour."

With the combined assistance of Jack and Harry, Mole was fully invested with his Oriental robes, with which he stumped downstairs as gracefully as a moving bundle of clothes.

His escort consisted of six spahis, most of them black, and headed by the messenger of the day before.

"Jack, my dear boy," said Mole, "at last my time has arrived to become a great man in the eyes of the world."

"Right you are, sir," replied Jack. "On you go, my noble pasha."

As soon as Mole was mounted, the chief spahi gave the word, and the imposing cavalcade set off at a quick trot.

In two hours they had arrived at the primitive and sequestered town of Alla-hissar.