SHEIKH AND NURSEMAID.

Otago Witness, Issue 2649, 21 December 1904, Page 82

SHEIKH AND NURSEMAID.

ION PEEDICARIS'S PART EST THE , ROMANCE OF A THRONE. (New York Evening Post.)

I Four men from all the world sat about a table in the smoking-roon? of a Mediterranean steamer. One of them was out of India for the first time in seven /ears. Another was up from Madagascar, loitering homeward- for what he called "a week-end in London." The third was as brown as a walnut, with a raised, whitish scai across his thin cheek; and the fourth was a broadshouldered man who had Jjust finished building a bridge somewhere in that widening, toiling zone in which Caucasian white has subdued 'the local shade to a commercial grey. There were four examples of that type which has a genuine respect for another man's story, the lean, browned, clear-eyed type. And every man 'had his story, his volume of stories, set in all sorts of strange places, among all conditions of people and ranging east to east round the compassSo much for the four men, as this -has less to do with them than with the tale which one of them, the man with the whitish scar athwart his cheek, told that night. No one asked him where lie had leam'ed it, for that would have been an ainpardonable breach of unwritten law. His preface,- too, prevented that. He had! said, " I know." It was related as a sort of elaborate appendix to a recital by the bridge builder of th© facts connected with tue recent . capture of lon Perdicaris by BjAisuli, the Moorish bandit. When this was finished the man with the scar, who had listened, picked up his glass, regarded it intently for an instant, drained it, looked at it again, and then replaced it carefully upon the table. "I know- a remarkable story which, revolyes more or less about lon Perdicaris 1 ," he -.aid quietly. "It rather closely concerns the Moroccan, government," he added with a smile, "and perhaps it explains the neatness and despatch with which Mr Perdicaris. was 4«UYe r ed tip by Ms captor. The Sultan of Morocco was far more interested in My Perdicaris's safety than most persons imagine. And! tins is reason i " A number of years ago, in fact soon after Mr Perdicaris had established his household in. Tangier, an Englishwoman came to pay his family a visit. She brought with her her two. ichjldren, and a

nurse-maid. The nursemaid was a rosy, good looking English country girl, fairhaired and buxom. It was her duty, of course, to take the younger child out every day in a little go-cart. Now, the wholesome, ruddy type of this nursemaid was such tha' she became a feast to the eyes of the Moroccans in Tangier. They Avovld stare at her with evident delight whenever she appeared, and on two or three occasions she found herself quite surrounded in the street by an admiringly gaping crowd.

" This sort of thing went on for a week or two, and then one fine day the Sheikh — well, Barakh is near to it — set eyes upon her. His was the blood royal and warm, and instead 1 of contenting himself with a comparatively distant inspection of her good looks, he aproached her with smiles, unintelligible words, and other graceful greetings. The poor girl was in a panic. She had the baby with her, so she could not run, and it seemed impossible to evade the outstretched arms of the affectionate Sheikh. But she did manage to evade the royal embrace, and hastened home with her heart in her mouth.

" The next day, remember her terrifying experience, the maid did not venture far from the Predicarises' establishment, but her precautions were in vain. As she entered one of the less crowded streets she saw before her the love-lorn Sheikh, Again he rdvanced upon her, and this time as she turned to flee she gave a scream of repugnance, for which no interpreter was necessary.

" The Sheikh was amazed. The idea of a woman, any woman, running away from him. He would follow and see wnat nonsense this was. St he strode down the narrow highway after the fleeing nursemaid, his attendants bringing up an astounded reai 1 .

"By the time the maid gained the doorway of the Predicarises' house the Sheikh was at her heels, and she slipped inside just in time and went almost fainting to her mistress. She told 1 her story with sobs and stammerings, and it was long before she could be quieted.

"Meantime the Sheikh, whose close relation to the throne permitted him to make whatever hubbub in the streets he desired, was talking at the house in loud anger, and those within were watching him through screened windows. At last he went away, muttering, and the incident seemed closed for the day at least. But in a short time back he came, this time to proclaim himself, and in a quiet modulated voice, to ask admission.

"Mr Predicaris, who had heard the nursemaid's story of her escape from, she did not know what, went forth to greet the Sheikh. The Sheikh was. now exceedingly calm. He very politely informed Mr Perdioaris that upon, that very day, scarcely an hour bafore, he had seen a* vision, of loveliness, a daughter of the sun and the rose, a veritable flower swaying upon a lovely slender stem, a sunbeam, a — well, all sorts of beautiful things. But, he went on, this sunbeam, this dancing, swirling, floating light had vanished before his very eyes just as he had stretched out his hand to make sure it was not only a vision ; furthermore, if had vanished into this very house by this very door, and he, Sheikh Barakh, first cousin to the throne, desired now, at once, to have this beautiful sunbeam — to wife. Then he folded his arms and waited for Mr Perdicaris to lead out the bride.

j "During the Sheikh's impassioned recital j of his love, one of hi 3 attendants had ad- | vanced with diplomatic caution and displayed from beneath his great flowing white I robe a pair of jewelled anklets, a heav^y, Kjangling bracelet, and a cincture of gold and precious stones. The attendant had given Mr Perdicaris every opportunity to see these rich gifts, which it was made quite clear were intended for the new Light of Tangier. All that now remained was the joyful moment of meeting, which, the good Mr Predicaris would b& so gracious as to hasten.

"But Mr Perdicaris, with masterful suavity, explained to the eager Sheikh Barakh that this was quite out of the question. He explained that the sunbeam was an English sunbeam, and that a marriage with the Sheikh was impossible," for the very good reason that the Sheikh had already about 15 wives. It was made quite clear that eligibility to marry the English sunbeam consisted primarily m having no other wives or wife. Then the Sheikh magnanimously offered to put her at the head of his establishment, and again Mr Perdicaris declined for her. Here the Sheikh shrugged his shoulders, turned the

palms of his hands upward, bowed his head, and withdrew. He had learned another incredible thing in connection with foreigners and their ways. "Again the incident seemed closed, but bright and early next morning the Sheikh was at the door of the Perdicarises' residence, his time he was all smile's and gentleness. He said he had come for the sunbeam. Mr Perdicaris, very naturally, became impatient at this, and he repeated with much force what he had said the evening before. _ , , " ' I told you how impossible this is, he explained. 'Our women do not marry men with other wives.' } " ' But I have no other wives — now, the Sheikh replied, showing all his teeth. ' I have not one left, not one left this morning.' He beamed from head 10 foot.

"Jj.r Perdicaris looked at the grinning black in horror. ' What ! ' he cried, 'no wives? '

"The Sheikh shook his head. 'No, not one,' he said, placidly. 'I had them sent home to their fathers. It was very easy, and they cannot possibly come back. You have no such easy methods,' he added with pride snd an unpleasant gesture. ' Some of them were very pretty, too.'

"He said little more than this, but he made it crystal-clear to Mr Perdicaris that he had absolutely and finally removed all competition for his dark hand, and that no. doubt the sunbeam would appreciate his nobleness when she should learn of it. And would Mr Perdicaris now disclose the radiant creature?

"I do not remember just how Mr Perdicaris got rid of the Sheikh that time, but he did so after a long parley, and from that day the Sheikh had Tangier rocking on its foundations. He stormed about in his palace, and anyone who dared ask him how he was to-day was in. grave danger of following the 15 wives. "It was impossible, to be sure, to permit the nursemaid to venture abroad upon the streets. She could not sd much as put her nose beyond the doorway, nor even show it at a window, because everyone felt that the Sheikh was out there somewhere waiting to run off with her the moment opportunity afforded. And there is very little doubt that he would have done so. He certainly had impressed Mr Perdicaris witli the intensity of his purpose. This made matters quite unpleasant for the Perdicaris household, especially as Mr Perdicaris was determined that the English girl should not fall into the possession of the Sheikh.

"At last the annoyance caused by the determined Moroccan suitor became so acute that it was decided to place the nursemaid in the care of the British consul, and, accordingly, she was conducted thither with as little commotion" as possible. For one day the Sheikh lost track of his sunbeam, but on the next he traced her to the consulate, and there he laid siege to her. He began all over again — first with pleadings, then with diplomatic insistence, and then with anger. All of this was working up to a crisis, and he bothered the consul almost to death. The girl was safe ' enough, but she had ta be held as closely in the consulate as in the Perdicaris establishment, and she became nothing less than a care.

"The consul stood it as long as he could, and then decided that the only thing to be done to gain a peaceful moment was to send the nursemaid back to England. There was a British gunboat conveniently near, and the end of it was the nursemaid was conveyed aboard, placed in the hands of the commanding officer, and, without more ado, the ship set sail for England. The Perdicaris family and the consul saw her go, and, a sigh of relief went up."

The man with the scar paused an instant, but it was not the pause for a finished tale. The other three waited. ■"

"Yes, everyone breathed freely when she went — that is, everyone save the Sheikh. . He could not understand it a\ all. Well, the nursemaid reached England safely, and lost precious little time in getting home. Her parents were poor people, ond to them she related in detail all the terrible things which had happened to her in Tangier — how miraculously she had escaped the clutches of the Sheikh Barakh. She carefully impressed upon them how overjoyed they should be to see her once more. ( "Now, this story of tlie nursemaid completely dazzled her humble parents, and, after mature deliberation, tfiey not only declined to sympathise with her, but they promptly informed her what a fine chance she had missed — a chance offered to few girls of her station, and they shipped her back to Tangier by the very first steamer which sailed that way. "That nursemaid is the mother of the present Sultan of Morocco !" — M. De L.