"He is a baj baj--a big belly--a stout man; he is an anhunkher, a
swallower of iron. He hath sailed in the war vessels of the Franks. He
holdeth in one hand a bottle of the forbidden liquor, in the other, he
shakes at those who would examine him, a thick stick. He hath a large
handful of the precious weed which we use for our pipes in one of his
cheeks, and his hair is hanging behind, down to his waist, in a rolled
up mass, as thick as the arm of your slave."
"It is well--we will admit him; but let there be armed men at hand. Let
me have a full pipe! God is great," continued the pacha, holding out
his glass to be filled; "and the bottle is nearly empty. Place the
guards, bring in the infidel."
The guards in a few minutes brought into the presence of the pacha, a
stout-built English sailor, in the usual dress, and with a tail which
hung down behind, below his waist. The sailor did not appear to like
his treatment; and every now and then, as they pushed and dragged him
in, turned to one side or the other, looking daggers at those who
conducted him. He was sober, although his eyes bore testimony to recent
intoxication, and his face, which was manly and handsome, was much
disfigured by an enormous quid of tobacco in his right cheek, which gave
him an appearance of natural deformity. As soon as he was near enough
to the pacha, the attendants let him go. Jack shook his jacket, hitched
up his trousers, and said, looking furiously at them, "Well, you
beggars, have you done with me at last?"
Mustapha addressed the sailor in English, telling him that he was in the
presence of his highness the pacha.
"What, that old chap, muffled up in shawls and furs--is he the pacha?
Well, I don't think much o' he;" and the sailor turned his eyes round
the room, gaping with astonishment, and perfectly unmindful how very
near he was to one who could cut off his head or his tail, by a single
movement of his hand.
"What sayeth the Frank, Mustapha?" inquired the pacha.
"He is struck dumb with astonishment at the splendour of your majesty,
and all that he beholds."
"It is well said, by Allah!"
"I suppose I may just as well come to an anchor," said the sailor,
suiting the action to the word, and dropping down on the mats. "There,"
continued he, folding his legs in imitation of the Turks, "as it's the
fashion to have a cross in your hawse, in this here country, I can be a
bit of a lubber as well as yourselves. I wouldn't mind if I blew a
cloud, as well as you, old fusty-musty."
"What does the Giaour say? What son of a dog is this, to sit in our
presence?" exclaimed the pacha.
"He sayeth," replied Mustapha, "that in his country, no one dare stand
in the presence of the Frankish king; and, overcome by his humility, his
legs refuse their office, and he sinks to the dust before you. It is
even as he sayeth, for I have travelled in their country, and such is
the custom of that uncivilised nation. Mashallah! but he lives in awe
and trembling."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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