Chapter 6 | Mr Burne Tries a Gun | Yussuf the Guide

“Now that’s just what I hate in women,” said the old lawyer, viciously scattering snuff all over the place. “They put you in an ill temper, and rouse you up to think all sorts of bitter things, and then just as you feel ready to say them, they behave like that and disarm you. After the way in which she spoke to Lawrence there I can’t abuse her.”

“No, don’t, please, Mr Burne,” said Lawrence warmly, and with his cheeks flushing, “I am sure she is very nice when you come to know her.”

“Can’t be,” cried the lawyer. “A woman who advocates fire and sword. Bah!”

“But as a protection against fire and sword,” said the professor laughing.

“Tchah, sir! stuff!” cried the other. “Look here; I can be pretty fierce when I like, and with you so big and strong, and with such a way with you as you have—Bah! nonsense, sir, we shall want no arms.”

“Well, I propose that we now consult the landlord.”

“Oh, just as you like, sir; but if he advocates such a proceeding, I’m not going to stalk through Turkey carrying fire-irons in my belt and over my shoulder, like a sham footpad in a country show.”

The landlord was summoned—a frank-looking Englishman, who listened to all the professor said in silence and then replied:

“Mr Thompson the consul is quite right, sir. We are not in England here, and though this is the nineteenth century the state of the country is terribly lawless. You know the old saying about when at Rome.”

“Do as the Romans do, eh?”

“Exactly, sir. Every second man you meet here even in the town goes armed, even if his weapons are not seen, while in the country—quite in the interior, it is the custom to wear weapons.”

“Then I shall not go,” said Mr Burne decisively. “If you ask my advice, gentlemen, I should say, carry each of you a good revolver, a knife or dagger, a sword, and a double-barrelled gun.”

“Sword, dagger, and gun!” cried the professor. “Surely a revolver would be sufficient.”

“Why not push a nice large brass cannon before us in a wheel-barrow?” said Mr Burne sarcastically, and then leaning back in his chair to chuckle, as if he had said something very comical, and which he emphasised by winking and nodding at Lawrence, who was too much interested in the discussion upon weapons to heed him.

“A revolver is not sufficient, for more than one reason, gentlemen,” said the landlord. “It is a deadly weapon in skilful hands; but you will meet scores of people who do not understand its qualities, but who would comprehend a sword or a gun. You do not want to have to use these weapons.”

“Use them, sir? Of course not,” roared the lawyer. “Of course not, sir,” said the landlord. “If you go armed merely with revolvers you may have to use them; but if you wear, in addition, a showy-looking sword and knife, and carry each of you a gun, you will be so formidable in appearance that the people in the different mountain villages will treat you with the greatest of respect, and you may make your journey in safety.”

“This is very reasonable,” said the professor.

“I assure you, sir, that in a country such as this is now such precautions are as necessary as taking a bottle of quinine. And beside, you may require your guns for game.”

“The country is very fine, of course?”

“Magnificent, sir,” replied the landlord; “but it is in ruins. The neglect and apathy of the government are such that the people are like the land—full of weeds. Why, you will hardly find a road fit to traverse, and through the neglect of the authorities, what used to be smiling plains are turned to fever-haunted marshes spreading pestilence around.”

“You will have to give way, Mr Burne,” said the professor smiling, “and dress like a bandit chief.”

“Never, sir,” cried the lawyer. “You two may, but I am going through Asia Minor with a snuff-box and a walking-stick. Those will be enough for me.”

“Where can we get arms?” said the professor smiling.

“At Politanie’s, sir, about fifty yards from here. You will find him a very straightforward tradesman. Of course his prices are higher than you would pay in London; but he will not supply you with anything that is untrustworthy. Perhaps you may as well say that you are friends of our consul, and that I advised you.”

“It is absurd!” exclaimed Mr Burne, as soon as they were alone. “What do you say, Lawrence, my boy? You don’t believe in weapons of war, I’m sure.”

“No,” replied Lawrence quietly.

“There, professor.”

“But,” continued Lawrence, “I believe in being safe. I feel sure that the people will respect us all the more for being armed.”

“And would you use a sword, sir?” cried the lawyer fiercely.

Lawrence drew his sleeve back from his thin arm, gazed at it mournfully, and then looked up in a wistful half-laughing way at his two friends.

“I don’t think I could even pull it out of the sheath,” he said sadly.

“Come, Burne, you will have to yield to circumstances.”

“Not I, sir, not I,” said Mr Burne emphatically. “I have been too much mixed up with the law all my life, and know its beauties too well, ever to break it.”

“But you will come with us to the gunsmith’s?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll come and see you fool away your money, only I’m not going to have you carry loaded guns near me. If they are to be for show let them be for show. There, I’m ready.”

“You will lie down for an hour, Lawrence, eh?” said the professor; “it is very hot.” But the lad looked so dismayed that his friend smiled and said, “Come along, then.”

A few minutes later they were in a store, whose owner seemed to sell everything, from tinned meat to telescopes; and, upon hearing their wants, the shrewd, clever-looking Greek soon placed a case of revolvers before them of English and American make, exhibiting the differences of construction with clever fingers, with the result that the professor selected a Colt, and Lawrence a Tranter of a lighter make.

“He’s a keen one,” said Mr Burne. “What a price he is asking for these goods!”

“But they seem genuine,” said the professor; for the Greek had gone to the back of his store to make some inquiry about ammunition.

“Genuine fleecing,” grumbled Mr Burne; and just then the dealer returned.

“You select those two, then, gentlemen,” he said in excellent English. “But if you will allow me, sir,” he continued to Lawrence, “this is a more expensive and more highly finished pistol than the other, and it is lighter in the hand; but if I were you, as my arm would grow stronger, I should have one exactly like my friend’s.”

“Why?” said Lawrence; “I like this one.”

“It is a good choice, sir, but it requires different cartridges to your friend’s, and as you are going right away, would it not be better to have to depend on one size only? I have both, but I offer the suggestion.”

“Yes, that’s quite right,” said the old lawyer sharply; “quite right. I should have both the same; and, do you know, I think perhaps I might as well have one, in case either of you should lose yours.”

Mr Preston felt ready to smile, but the speaker was looking full at him, as if in expectation thereof, and he remained perfectly serious.

The pistols having been purchased, with a good supply of ammunition, guns were brought out, and the professor invested in a couple of good useful double-barrelled fowling-pieces for himself and Lawrence; Mr Burne watching intently the whole transaction, and ending by asking the dealer to show him one.

“You see,” he explained, “I should look odd to the people if I were not carrying the same weapons as you two, and besides I have often thought that I should like to go shooting. I don’t see why I shouldn’t; do you, Lawrence?”

“No, sir, certainly not,” was the reply: and Mr Burne went on examining the gun before him, pulling the lever, throwing open the breech, and peeping through the barrels as if they formed a double telescope.

“Oh! that’s the way, is it?” he said. “But suppose, when the thing goes off, the shots should come out at this end instead of the other?”

“But you don’t fire it off when it’s open like that, Mr Burne,” cried Lawrence.

“My dear boy, of course not. Do you suppose I don’t understand? You put in the cartridges like this. No, they won’t go in that way. You put them in like that, and then you pull the trigger.”

“No, no, no,” cried Lawrence excitedly. “You shut the breech first.”

“My dear boy—oh! I see. Yes, of course. Oh! that’s what you meant. Of course, of course. I should have seen that directly. Now, then, it’s all right. Loaded?”

“Sir! sir! sir!” cried the dealer, but he was too late, for the old lawyer had put the gun to his shoulder, pointing the barrel towards the door, and pulled both triggers.

The result was a deafening explosion, two puffs of smoke half filling the place, and the old gentleman was seated upon the floor.

“Good gracious, Burne!” cried the professor, rushing to him, “are you much hurt?”

Lawrence caught at the chair beside him, turning ashy pale, and gazing down at the prostrate man, while quite a little crowd of people filled the shop.

“Hurt?” cried Mr Burne fiercely—“hurt? Hang it, sir, do you think a man at my time of life can be bumped down upon the floor like that without being hurt?”

“But are you wounded—injured?”

“Don’t I tell you, yes,” cried Mr Burne, getting up with great difficulty. “I’m jarred all up the spinal column.”

“But not wounded?”

“Yes, I am, sir—in my self-respect. Here, help me up. Oh, dear! Oh, lor’! Gently! Oh, my back! Oh, dear! No; I can’t sit down. That’s better. Ah!”

“Would you like a doctor fetched?”

“Doctor? Hang your doctor, sir. Do you think I’ve came out here to be poisoned by a foreign doctor. Oh, bless my soul! Oh, dear me! Confound the gun! It’s a miserable cheap piece of rubbish. Went off in my hands. Anyone shot?”

“No, sir,” said the dealer quietly; “fortunately you held the muzzle well up, and the charges went out of the upper part of the door.”

“Oh! you’re there, are you?” cried Mr Burne furiously, as he lay back in a cane chair, whose cushion seemed to be comfortable. “How dared you put such a miserable wretched piece of rubbish as that in my hands!”

The dealer made a deprecatory gesture.

“Here, clear away all these people. Be off with you. What are you staring at? Did you never see an English gentleman meet with an accident before? Oh, dear me! Oh, my conscience! Bless my heart, I shall never get over this.”

The dealer went about from one to the other of the passers-by who had crowded in, and the grave gentlemanly Turks bowed and left in the most courteous manner, while the others, a very motley assembly, showed some disposition to stay, but were eventually persuaded to go outside, and the door was closed.

“To think of me, a grave quiet solicitor, being reduced to such a position as this. I’m crippled for life. I know I am. Serves me right for coming. Here, give me a little brandy or a glass of wine.”

The latter was brought directly, and the old lawyer drank it, with the result that it seemed to make him more angry.

“Here, you, sir!” he cried to the dealer, who was most attentive; “what have you to say for yourself? It’s a wonder that I did not shoot one of my friends here. That gun ought to be destroyed.”

“My dear Burne,” said the professor, who had taken the fowling-piece and tried the locks, cocking and recocking them over and over again; “the piece seems to me to be in very perfect order.”

“Bah! stuff! What do you know about guns?”

“Certainly I have not used one much lately, and many improvements have been made since I used to go shooting; but still I do know how to handle a gun.”

“Then, sir,” cried the little lawyer in a towering fury, “perhaps you will be good enough to tell me how it was that this confounded piece of mechanism went off in my hands?”

“Simply,” said the professor smiling, “because you drew both the triggers at once.”

“It is false, sir. I just rested my fingers upon them as you are doing now.”

“And the piece went off!” said the professor drily, but smiling the while. “It is a way that all guns and pistols have.”

The dealer smiled his thanks, and Mr Burne started up in the chair, but threw himself back again.

“Oh, dear! oh, my gracious me!” he groaned; “and you two grinning at me and rejoicing over my sufferings.”

“My dear sir, indeed I am very sorry,” said the dealer.

“Yes, I know you are,” said Mr Burne furiously, “because you think, and rightly, that I will not buy your precious gun. Bless my heart, how it does hurt! I feel as if I should never be able to sit up again. I know my vertebrae are all loose like a string of beads.”

“Will you allow us to assist you into my private room, sir?” said the dealer.

“No, I won’t,” snapped the sufferer.

“But there is a couch there, and I will send for the resident English doctor.”

“If you dare do anything of the kind, confound you, sir, I’ll throw something at you. Can’t you see that there is nothing the matter with me, only I’m in pain.”

“But he might relieve you, Burne,” said the professor kindly.

“I tell you I don’t want to be relieved, sir,” cried the little lawyer. “And don’t stand staring at me like that, boy; I’m not killed.”

“I am afraid that you are a great deal hurt,” said Lawrence, going to his side and taking his hand.

“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” groaned the sufferer. “Well, I’m not, boy, not a bit. There.”

“Let me send for a doctor, sir,” said the dealer.

“I tell you I will not, man. Do you take me for a Greek or a Turk, or a heretic? Can’t you see that I am an Englishman, sir, one who is never beaten, and never gives up? There, go on selling your guns.”

“Oh, nonsense!” said the professor; “we cannot think of such things with you in that state.”

“State? What state, sir? Here you, Mr What’s-your-name, I beg your pardon. I ought to have known better. Not used to guns. Pens are more in my way. Confoundedly stupid thing to do. But I’ve learned more about a gun now than I should have learned in six months. I beg your pardon, sir.”

“Pray, say no more, sir,” replied the dealer; “it is not needed.”

“Yes, it is, sir,” cried the lawyer fiercely. “Didn’t I tell you I was an English gentleman. An English gentleman always apologises when he is in the wrong. I apologise. I am very sorry for what I said.”

The dealer smiled and bowed, and looked pleased as he handed the sufferer another glass of wine, which was taken and sipped at intervals between a few mild ohs! and ssfths!

“Not a bad wine this. What is it?”

“One of the Greek wines, sir.”

“Humph! not bad; but not like our port. Now, you people, go on with your business, and don’t stare at me as if I were a sick man. Here, Mr What’s-your-name, put that gun in a case, and send it round to the hotel. I’ve taken a fancy to it.”

“Send—this gun, sir?”

“Yes. Didn’t I speak plainly? Didn’t the professor, my friend here, say it was a good gun?”

“Yes, sir, yes: it is an excellent piece of the best English make.”

“Well, I want a gun, and I suppose any piece would go off as that did if somebody handled it as stupidly as I did.”

“Yes, sir, of course.”

“Then send it on, and the pistol too. Ah, that’s better—I’m easier; but I say, Preston, I shall have to be carried back.”

“I’m very glad you are easier, but really if I were you I would see a doctor.”

“I’ve no objection to seeing a doctor, my dear sir, but I’m not going to have him do anything to me.”

“Then you really wish us to go on with our purchases?”

“Why, of course, man, of course. What did we come for? Go on, man, go on. Here, mister, show me one or two of these long carving knives.”

“Carving knives?” said the dealer. “I do not keep them.”

“Yes, you do: these,” said Mr Burne, pointing to a case in which were several Eastern sabres.

“Oh, the swords!” said the dealer smiling. “Of course.”

“You are not going to buy one of these, are you, Mr Burne?” said Lawrence eagerly.

“To be sure I am,” was the reply. “Why shouldn’t I play at soldiers if I like. There, what do you say to that?” he continued, drawing a light, keen-looking blade from its curved sheath. “Try it. Mind it don’t go off—I mean, don’t go slashing it round and cutting off the professor’s legs or my head. Can you lift it?”

“Oh, yes,” cried Lawrence, poising the keen weapon in his hand before examining its handsome silver inlaid hilt.

“Think that would do for me? Oh, dear me, what a twinge!”

“Yes, sir, admirably,” replied Lawrence.

“Then I don’t,” was the gruff retort. “Seems to me that it would just suit you. There, buckle on the belt.”

Lawrence did as he was told, but the belt was too large and had to be reduced.

“Hah! that’s better,” said Mr Burne. “There, that’s a very handsome sword, Lawrence, and it will do to make you look fierce when we are in the country, and to hang up in your room at home to keep in memory of our journey. Will you accept it, my boy, as a present?”

“Oh, thank you,” cried the lad excitedly.

“Took a fancy to it as soon as you saw it, you young dog. I saw you!” cried the old lawyer chuckling. “There, now for a dagger or knife to go with it.”

The dealer produced one in an ornamental sheath directly, and explained that it was for use as a weapon, for hunting, or to divide food when on a journey.

“That will do, then, nicely. There, my boy, these are my presents. Now, Preston, I suppose we must each have one of these long choppers?”

“Yes, I think so,” replied the professor. “They will make us look more formidable.”

“Very well, then: choose one for me too, but I warn you, I shall fasten mine down in the sheath with gum. I’m not going to take mine out, for fear of cutting off somebody’s legs or wings, or perhaps my own.”

“You feel better now?” said the professor.

“Hold your tongue, sir—do! No: I don’t feel better. I had forgotten my pain, but now you’ve made me think about it again. There!—choose two swords and knives and let’s get back.”

Two plain useful sabres were selected, and the dealer received his orders to send the weapons to the hotel, after which the injured man was helped into a standing position, but not without the utterance of several groans. Then he was walked up and down the shop several times, ending by declaring himself much better.

“There, Lawrence!” he cried, “that’s the advantage of being an Englishman. Now, if I had been a Dutchman or a Frenchman I should have had myself carried back, sent for a couple of doctors, and been very bad for a month or two; but you see I’m better already, and I’m not going to give up to please the Grand Panjandrum himself. Dear me! bless my heart! panjandrum! Pan—pan—pan—jan—jan—jan—drum! Where did I hear that word?”

“In a sort of nursery ditty, sir,” said Lawrence laughing.

“To be sure I did,” cried the old man, “and I had forgotten it; but I say, don’t laugh like that, boy.”

“Why not, sir?”

“Because it will make us believe that you have been shamming all this time, and that you’re really quite well, thank you, sir!—eh?”

“I—I think I am better,” said Lawrence quickly. “I don’t know why, but I have not been thinking about being ill these last few days, everything is so bright and sunshiny here, you see.”

“Yes, I see,” said the old lawyer, giving the professor a peculiar look; and they went back to the hotel.