CHAPTER LXXV.

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.