Jack Harkaway's Boy Tinker Among The Turks Part 13

The orphan grew desperate, and jerked himself out of their clutches.

But in the tussle down he flopped on the ground again.

"Infidel dog!" roared the pasha, venting his wrath in English, "barbarian and idolater, thou shalt die!"

Thereupon, Captain Deering dropped down beside the orphan, and sued for mercy.

"Be merciful, O great prince!" he cried. "Have pity on your humblest slave. His heart is filled with grat.i.tude."

The pasha growled some reply that was indistinct, but which to the startled Figgins, sounded like the rumbling of distant thunder.

"Oh, what shall I do?" moaned the orphan. "Oh, somebody take me home."

"Silence," whispered Captain Deering. "Prostrate yourself as they do.

Bury your face and be silent, until his excellency bids you rise. He may then overlook it."

Mr. Figgins scarce dared to breathe.

There he lay, with his face upon the ground, humbly awaiting the stern despot's permission to move.

He waited long--very long.

While he waited thus, a strange commotion was observed amongst the pasha's suite.

The chief officer removed his turban and beard, and--wonderful to relate!--beneath it was the laughing face of Harry Girdwood.

He winked at his august master, who hurriedly removed his turban and beard as well.

And then the pasha bore a marvellous resemblance to Jack Harkaway the younger.

They helped to drag off each other's robes--for beneath their Turkish garments were their everyday clothes.

The veiled beauties of the harem were disrobed.

Beneath their veils and feminine attire they were familiarly garbed, and a glance revealed them to be Tinker and his body-guard Bogey.

"Now then, Mr. Figgins," said Nat Cringle, "wake up."

The orphan looked up in amazement at the sound.

"Nat Cringle!"

"Hullo!"

Mr. Figgins looked about in wonderment.

Facing him was Jack Harkaway, sitting upon a camp stool, and beside him stood his constant companion, Harry Girdwood.

Engaged in conversation with them was Captain Deering, and the subject of their conversation appeared to be the orphan himself.

The Turkish soldiers and people generally forming the pasha's suite had disappeared, and in their places were several sailors, some of whom appeared to be considerably amused at something.

When Mr. Figgins sat up and looked about him, he muttered--

"What's all this?"

"A very serious case, Harry," said Jack, gravely.

"Very."

"A case for the doctor."

"What do you mean?"

"These habits of drinking grow upon one," said Harry Girdwood, sadly.

"I don't understand," faltered the orphan.

"Shall we help you to bed, sir?" asked one of the sailors compa.s.sionately.

"Never!" cried Mr. Figgins, with majesty.

"Oh, yes, do," said Harry.

But nerved to desperation, the orphan tore himself away from them, and darted to the door.

"I shall go and report upon these outrageous doings to the captain of the s.h.i.+p," he said, drawing himself up.

"Here's the captain himself," said a good-natured voice behind him.

"And now, what can he do for you, Mr. Figgins?"

The orphan turned.

There was the captain.

"Mr. Figgins," said the captain, with a serious air, and shaking his forefinger at him, "you have been indulging very early in the day."

"What?"

He could endure no more.

With a cry of disgust, he dashed past the captain, and scrambled up the stairs on deck.

Once there, he shot like a race horse along the deck, and gaining his own berth, he locked himself in.

But even here he could not shut out the ringing laughter of the incorrigible practical jokers.