describes an important event in the pirate city.
“madman!” exclaimed the elder chaouse, after omar and hassan had left, “you have put the bow-string round our necks as well as your own.”
“true,” answered baba, with a bland smile, “and if we would not have it drawn tight, we must e’en obey the commands of omar the dey.”
“i suppose we must,” returned the chaouse gloomily; “but it is hard enough to be compelled to spend our days in strangling, thrashing, burning, beheading, flaying, and tormenting other men, without the addition of having our own necks put in jeopardy.”
the injustice attaching to themselves and their office seemed to weigh heavily for some time on the minds of both the executioners, notwithstanding the sallies and remonstrances of hadji baba, but before reaching the palace they had gone through the not difficult process—to a turk—of setting the whole matter down to the decrees of fate, and washing their hands of all guilt.
that evening, as the hour for action drew nigh, hadji baba and his colleagues began to grow rather uneasy—all the more so that the dey was in a particularly bad humour.
being an ignorant and uneducated man, he had found the work of gathering up the reins of government a very difficult task, notwithstanding the boldness of his heart and the determination of his will. true, he had simplified several knotty matters by bastinadoing and cutting off the heads of all concerned, but this left a multitude of matters which could not be disposed of in that summary fashion.
among other things, he had been thwarted in his resolution to get possession of angela diego, whom he intended to have made a slave of the palace. finding that she had taken refuge with the british consul at his country house, he sent a peremptory order to have the girl returned immediately, and, pending the result of that order, had locked bacri up in a dungeon, with threats of the bastinado, and even death, in the event of any difficulty being thrown in the way.
after this he called for his coffee and pipe, his tame gazelle, chief executioners, and story-teller, resolving to throw the cares of state aside for the night and enjoy himself.
it was nearly eight o’clock when this order was given, to the consternation of hadji baba and his confederates, who were thus deprived of the power of rendering, in the guard-room, any assistance to the insurrectionists. there was, however, no alternative,—obedience was imperative.
“sit down,” said the dey to the unfortunate jester, when he entered the presence, limping with much apparent difficulty. “we will extend clemency to thee, in the hope that thou wilt redeem thy character. i am fond of marvellous stories. thou mayest sit on that carpet. now, look behind thee.”
hadji baba obeyed, and observed his two friends standing mute and motionless, like statues, ready at a moment’s notice to do their master’s bidding.
“knowest thou these men?” asked the dey.
“your highness’s slave knows them but too well,” replied baba, with a well-feigned shudder, which changed into a real one on his observing that a gorgeous time-piece opposite pointed to the hour of eight.
“proceed, then, and acquit thee well, else thou shalt come to know them still better ere long.”
thus admonished, the story-teller cleared his throat, wished intensely for a draught of water, and taxed his fertile brain to the uttermost. at last under a feeling of absolute desperation, he began—
“once upon a time—”
the dey nodded, as though he thought that not a bad beginning.
“once upon a time,” continued baba, and then, checking himself—“your highness wishes a very marvellous story, i believe?”
“yes, very marvellous,” said the dey, not quite pleased with the interruption.
“your highness shall have it—a very marvellous story, and, what is more, it shall be a true story.”
hadji baba said this with so much energy and fire that the dey again nodded his approval, and sent two thin clouds of tobacco-smoke through his nostrils, as he patted the gazelle which crouched at his feet, resting its head on his knee, and gazing affectionately at the tyrant with its magnificent eyes.
“once upon a time,” resumed the story-teller with sustained vigour and fluency, as he glanced at the clock, “there was a poor shoemaker who dwelt in a certain town, and was noted among his friends for his powers of song. one day the sultan of the country chanced to hear of this man’s talent, and sent for him to the palace. he was so pleased with him that he made him his chief musician. this shoemaker possessed magical gifts.”
“villain!” exclaimed the dey, “didst thou not say that the story should be a true one? how can that be, when thou speakest of gifts which do not and never did exist?”
“your highness’s slave,” replied baba, “refers to those powers of legerdemain, or pretended magic, with which some men are gifted.”
“go on,” returned the dey.
“well, one day the shoemaker offered to amuse the sultan by mesmerising his guards.”
“mesmerising!” interrupted the dey, “what is that?”
“throwing them into a sleep, your highness, against their will.”
“well?”
“well, the sultan did not believe him, so he said, ‘if thou shalt put these guards into sleep against their wills, i will give thee my daughter in marriage.’ the shoemaker was well pleased to hear this, for the sultan’s daughter was virtuous and very beautiful. so he begged the sultan to order in his guards, which he did. drawing them up in a line, the man began at the first, and made the passes or signs which are necessary to throw men into the mesmeric state. the first man winked very much, and smiled a little, but did not fall asleep.
“‘ha!’ cried the sultan, on seeing this, ‘thou art deceiving me, it seems!’
“‘not so, your highness,’ replied the shoemaker; ‘it is not every man who can be thus subdued. permit me to go on, and i will find one who is susceptible.’
“so the shoemaker went on and made the passes and signs which were necessary, until at last he found one who at once fell asleep, and then, one after another, they all fell asleep, and no one could awake them except the shoemaker! i could not have believed this, your highness,” said hadji baba, “if i had not been told it by the shoemaker himself, who also taught me the mysterious power of thus throwing men in to sleep, which in some languages is signified by the term ‘throwing dust into their eyes.’”
“how!” exclaimed the dey, “dost mean to tell me that thou couldst really do as that shoemaker did, and put my guards to sleep before mine eyes?”
“your highness’s slave presumes to answer emphatically—yes.”
“by the beard of the prophet, thou shalt prove it,” said the dey, whose curiosity was aroused.—“ho, there! order the guard into my presence.”
“hold!” exclaimed hadji baba; “they must appear absolutely unarmed. in order that men should be brought under the influence of this power, it is necessary that they should divest themselves not only of all ordinary weapons, but also of the defensive armour of common-sense. that is the reason why the exercise of the power is so difficult. but, once accomplished, the effect is unquestionable and very amazing.”
“let them leave their arms behind them, then,” said the dey; “only see that two are left to keep the gates.”
“would it not be well,” suggested baba humbly, “that, considering the recent riots, more than two should be left to guard the palace gates? it is true, the more men that are brought under my influence the more likely is my influence to be effectual, but these chaouses might for a few minutes supply their place.”
“be it so!—thou hearest?” said the dey, turning to his executioners.
the chaouses went out as the men of the guard entered unarmed, and drew up in a line before the dey.
“now, show thy power, hadji baba.”
“your highness will, i trust, have patience for a few minutes,” said baba, observing that the clock still indicated ten minutes short of the appointed hour, “while i perform the curious, but necessary, motions which are essential to a happy result.”
saying this he advanced to the first guard in the line, and, throwing himself into a vigorously picturesque attitude, pointed with two fingers of the right hand at his eyes, trembling violently the while, as though he was exerting some tremendous but subtle energy.
the first guardsman gazed at him in mute amazement, but would as soon have cut off his own head as have objected to the operation in such presence. he opened his eyes very wide with surprise, then looked at the points of baba’s fingers, which caused him to squint horribly, and finally smiled in spite of himself; whereupon the thought of having been guilty of such undignified conduct caused him to turn deadly pale with terror, all of which symptoms being regarded by the dey as indications of coming success, were highly satisfactory.
suddenly sweeping his hands in front of the man’s face, and making a noise with his feet to distract attention, baba whispered, “shut your eyes if you would escape death!” and terminated the whole operation with a low growl.
the terrified man instantly shut his eyes, and baba proceeded to operate on the next.
he had operated thus on about six of the men when there was heard a sudden crash and shouting in the guard-room. the disarmed guard at once made a rush towards the door, but were driven back by the chaouses, who sprang in and cut down two of the foremost with yataghans which were already blood-stained.
“traitor!” shouted the dey, drawing his scimitar and leaping furiously on hadji baba, but that worthy, being as active with his body as his brain, parried the cut with a cushion, and running in on the dey seized him round the waist. it would soon have gone hard with him, however, hamet being a much more powerful man, had not sidi omar, with a band of his janissaries, dashed in and secured him.
“but for enemies within thou hadst not overcome me thus easily,” said the dey bitterly, as two of the soldiers held him fast, while others bound his arms behind his back.
“very true, hamet,” returned omar, with quiet indifference of manner; “and now it remains with thee to choose thy death, for that must be speedily accomplished.—ho! there, fetch the cup!”
a silver cup, filled with poison, was brought and presented to the unhappy hamet by his former friend, sidi hassan.
“my undoing has been caused by leniency to dogs like thee,” said the dey, with a dark scowl; then, clearing his brow, and drawing himself up with dignity, he turned to omar, and added, “i decline to take part in mine own death. if i must die, let me be led forth to the place of public execution. i would die as i have lived: with my face to my foes, and in the sight of my comrades.”
“be it so, we are ready,” returned omar; “let the torch-men lead the way.”
as omar truly said, they were indeed ready, for in a few seconds the front of the palace was lighted up with blazing torches, a procession was formed, and hamet was led forth to the bab-azoun gate, and there strangled in the midst of an overawed and silent populace, who probably cared very little as to which of the unruly turkish pirates who held them in subjection should misrule the unfortunate city.
whether it was a touch of pity on the part of omar, or the lateness of the hour, we know not, but from some cause or other hamet was spared the too common cruelty of being twice revived with a glass of water during the process, before the final deed of strangulation was accomplished.
thus was the undesirable throne of algiers again emptied, and immediately afterwards sidi omar ascended it,—the third dey within forty-eight hours!
