Part 40 (1/2)
”Messieurs and Mesdames--I have the honor to announce that Caraba Radokala, King of Ashantee, will next appear before you. This terrific native sovereign was taken captive by that famous Dutch navigator, the Mynheer Van Dunk, in his last voyage round the globe. Van Dunk, having brought his prisoner to Europe in an iron cage, sold him to the English government in 1840; who sold him again to Milord Barnum, the great American philanthropist, in 1842; who sold him again to Franconi of the Cirque Olympique; who finally sold him to me. At the time of his capture, Caraba Radokala was the most treacherous, barbarous, and sanguinary monster upon record. He had three hundred and sixty-five wives--a wife, you observe, for every day in the year. He lived exclusively upon human flesh, and consumed, when in good health, one baby per diem. His palace in Ashantee was built entirely of the skulls and leg-bones of his victims. He is now, however, much less ferocious; and, though he feeds on live pigeons, rabbits, dogs, mice, and the like, he has not tasted human flesh since his captivity. He is also heavily ironed. The distinguished company need therefore entertain no apprehensions. Pierre--draw the bolt, and let his majesty loose!”
A savage roar was now heard, followed by a rattling of chains. Then the curtains were suddenly drawn back, and the Ashantee king--crowned with a feather head-dress, loaded with red and blue war-paint, and chained from ankle to ankle--bounded on the stage.
Seeing the audience before him, he uttered a terrific howl. The front rows were visibly agitated. Several young women faintly screamed.
The little man in the c.o.c.ked hat rushed to the front, protesting that the ladies had no reason to be alarmed. Caraba Radokala, if not wantonly provoked, was now quite harmless--a little irritable, perhaps, from being waked too suddenly--would be as gentle as a lamb, if given something to eat:--”Pierre, quiet his majesty with a pigeon!”
Pierre, a lank lad in motley, hereupon appeared with a live pigeon, which immediately escaped from his hands and perched on the top of the proscenium. Caraba Radokala yelled; the little man in the c.o.c.ked hat raved; and Pierre, in default of more pigeons, contritely reappeared with a lump of raw beef, into which his majesty ravenously dug his royal teeth. The pigeon, meanwhile, dressed its feathers and looked complacently down, as if used to the incident.
”Having fed, Caraba Radokala will now be quite gentle and good-humored,”
said the showman. ”If any lady desires to shake hands with him, she may do so with perfect safety. Will any lady embrace the opportunity?”
A faint sound of t.i.ttering was heard in various parts of the booth; but no one came forward.
”Will _no_ lady be persuaded? Well, then, is there any gentleman present who speaks Ashantee?”
Muller gave me a dig with his elbow, and started to his feet.
”Yes,” he replied, loudly. ”I do.”
Every head was instantly turned in our direction.
The showman collapsed with astonishment. Even the captive, despite his ignorance of the French tongue, looked considerably startled.
”_Comment_!” stammered the c.o.c.ked hat. ”Monsieur speaks Ashantee?”
”Fluently.”
”Is it permitted to inquire how and when monsieur acquired this very unusual accomplishment?”
”I have spoken Ashantee from my infancy,” replied Muller, with admirable aplomb. ”I was born at sea, brought up in an undiscovered island, twice kidnapped by hostile tribes before attaining the age of ten years, and have lived among savage nations all my life.”
A murmur of admiration ran through the audience, and Muller became, for the time, an object of livelier interest than Caraba Radokala himself.
Seeing this, the indignant monarch executed a warlike _pas_, and rattled his chains fiercely.
”In that case, monsieur, you had better come upon the stage, and speak to his majesty,” said the showman reluctantly.
”With all the pleasure in life.”
”But I warn you that his temper is uncertain.”
”Bah!” said Muller, working his way round through the crowd, ”I'm not afraid of his temper.”
”As monsieur pleases--but, if monsieur offends him, _I_ will not be answerable for the consequences.”
”All right--give us a hand up, _mon vieux_!” And Muller, having clambered upon the stage, made a bow to the audience and a salaam to his majesty.
”Chickahominy chowdar bang,” said he, by way of opening the conversation.
The ex-king of Ashantee scowled, folded his arms, and maintained a haughty silence.