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THE COUNTRY OF SWINDLERS
THERE was a certain Sadágar[1] who on his death-bed said to his son, "My son, I am in a short time to leave the world. The riches I have gained will enable you to sit with one leg over the other and eat. There will be no need for you to visit foreign countries. If you take a fancy, however, to do so, I adjure you never to think of going to the country in the far east known as the 'Country of Swindlers.'"
Several years followed the merchant's death, and his son, stepping into his shoes, maintained the credit of the family. But it was impossible for the young man to fight against the decrees of fate. A good many of his speculations failed, and there was a considerable strain upon his purse, so that, to retrieve his fortune by foreign trade, he fitted out four ships laden with merchandise, and bade farewell to his country, at least for a time.
At first the voyage was prosperous, but one day the sea through which the ships were passing became unusually rough. Waves rose mountains high while the sky became so overcast that it was almost pitch dark. The crew, even experienced as they were, lost their way, and called on the gods for help. For three days the elements remained furious without intermission, and the ships were sent adrift. At length, however, it cleared up, and the merchant and his men found themselves near the shore of a country which, though unknown to the former, was well known to the latter. It was the "Country of Swindlers," and on learning the name from his men, the young merchant trembled with great fear. It was the very country of which his father had warned him, and now he was compelled to land on it, for to divert the course of the ships was impossible.
Resigning himself to the hands of fate, he ordered the vessels to be driven to the nearest port. This was being done when the merchant, seeing a snow-white heron, was led by his evil genius to shoot it dead. No sooner did this happen than a fuller, who was washing clothes near by, ran to the spot and fell to the ground, beating his breast and tearing his hair. He took up the dead heron, kissed it a hundred times, and then furiously abused the merchant for having killed his father, who as a heron had been helping him in washing clothes. The merchant, as was natural, laughed at the idea, and the washerman hastened to the king and filed a petition for damages. The alleged offender was hauled before the court, and on his failing to defend himself—for what defence could be made in such a preposterous case?—the king, who was a partner in his subject's exactions, decreed that one of the ships with her merchandise should be given as satisfaction to the wronged washerman.
The merchant, much crest-fallen, went back to his ships, and had the mortification of witnessing the execution of the decree. He hoped, however, that with the remaining three he would be able to escape from this accursed country. But of them also he was destined to be deprived in a very short time. As soon as he was on board, a woman with two urchins, having cunningly succeeded in getting his father's name from one of his men, drew near and said, "O my son, do you not know what I am to you? I am your stepmother, the widow of your father" (here she gave the latter's name) "left penniless by him. Make an ample provision for me and these my children." The merchant, of course, scoffed at so absurd a claim, and thrust the woman out of his presence. But the matter did not end there. Like the washerman, the woman ran to the king and, the unfortunate merchant being unable to disprove her words, the king decreed to her another of his ships with the merchandise and crew.
Two ships only remained, and the merchant made preparations for instant departure, but when the sails were about to be unfurled, a barber made his appearance in search of customers. The merchant having had no shave for months, called him in, and offered him an anna for his labour. But the barber would not consent, whereupon the merchant said that he would pay what the barber should deem sufficient. The bargain being struck, the barber did his work. When, however, his customer offered a rupee as recompense, he knit his brow and refused to take so small a sum, saying that he did not think it enough and that he thought that a ship with all that it contained was his adequate reward. The merchant had him driven out, and the barber, hurrying away to the court, in the absence of the merchant got the third of the ships decreed as his due recompense.
The ships of the merchant were thus reduced to one, and this one was set hastily in motion. But just at that moment a man blind of one eye came up to him, and said that at one time he had pawned an eye of his to the merchant's father for a thousand rupees, and that he was now ready with the money to redeem his eye. Saying this, the blind rogue counted down the exact sum, and demanded the instant delivery of what he had pledged. The merchant could not but think that another trick was being played upon him, and that by another royal decree he would soon have to part with his last and only ship. Nevertheless he could not refrain from kicking out the rascal, who at once went to the king, and applied for what he called justice. The result of the proceedings was just the same as in the other cases brought against the merchant, and the poor man, deprived of all his ships, merchandise, and men, was left alone in this strange land of merciless swindlers. In the circumstances there was nothing left for him to do but to set out on foot along the seashore, hoping that he might eventually reach some other country. But he had not long to remain in this pitiable situation. After he had gone a few miles, he met a company of robbers armed to the teeth and under a leader of remarkably stalwart appearance, though bearing the signs of age. The merchant's handsome appearance, seen even under the gloom of despondency that had overcast him, attracted the leader's attention and awoke in him some painful recollection that had long remained dormant in his mind. It was that of his son, no longer in the land of the living, to whom he thought the young man before him bore an exact likeness. He therefore approached the merchant, and hearing his story, at once volunteered to rescue him from his helpless position, and took him to the king to compel the latter to hear what the merchant had to say to repel the charges brought against him, and to revise the unjust judgments pronounced against him. The presence of this imposing leader at the head of his men considerably cowed the king, for he by experience knew that they were too formidable to be trifled with.
The king then assembled his court and called upon the merchant to state his case, upon which the latter, according to the instructions of his friend, the robber chief, spoke thus, "O Incarnation of Justice, with your Majesty's permission, I beg to answer the charges on which my ships, merchandise, and men have been taken away from me, and made over to those who plotted against me. May I be heard with impartiality, in the event of which I shall have back everything I have lost. Now as to the first charge brought by the washerman, I beg to say that even if I killed his father in the heron, I did so under great provocation. I started on my voyage with my dead father, who had assumed the form of a dánkoná[2] to show me the way, and when I reached the tree on which the heron was perched, the bird made a swoop on my father, the dánkoná, and made an end of him. Let the washerman, the owner of the first aggressor, give me back my father and then I will do the same with regard to his father."
The robbers gave loud applause in approval of the argument and the king dismissed the washerman's case, ordering the ship taken by him to be restored to the merchant with its cargo and crew. The washerman was at once summoned and forced to obey the order.
The second charge, that brought by a woman, was then taken up by the merchant, and again instructed by the robber chief he spoke, "Mighty king, I admit that the woman who claimed to be provided for by me is actually my stepmother; and I am prepared to take her and her children with me to my own country, and there to pay them, as the dearest and nearest of my relations, the attentions they are worthy of. Graciously order their presence, that I may take them home."
"Hear, hear, hear," resounded from the lips of the robbers, and the woman was summoned before the court, and ordered with her children to follow her alleged stepson. She, however, hung down her head in confusion, and finally rejected the merchant's proposals. The king, too, looked confused and grieved at the prospect of losing his lion's share of the spoil made through her, but through fear of the robbers he was forced to restore to the merchant all that he had been robbed of in consequence of the woman's charge against him.
Having cleared himself so far, the merchant, with the king's permission, left the court, in company with his friends, the robbers. With the assistance of these he found the barber's house. The man was called out, and the robbers belaboured him so well that he fell down at their feet and cried for mercy. Thereupon the merchant said, "Well, cheat of a barber, you have robbed me on the ground that I did not give you enough. Now receive enough from me, and sign an acknowledgment to that effect." Saying this, he rubbed some nettles on the barber's body, and the stinging pain was so great that the swindler cried out, "Bus, bus."[3] Instantly paper, pen, and ink were produced, and the barber was only too glad to escape by writing down these very words, with his signature below.
The merchant with his friends then returned to the court, handed over the paper to the king as an acknowledgment of the barber's satisfaction, and the king restored to the merchant the ship he had lost on the cheat's complaint.
There remained thus only one ship to be recovered, and one of the robbers, leaving the court, went in search of the one-eyed rascal. The search was successful, and the rogue was brought before the king, whereupon our hero thus pressed his suit, "O Impersonation of justice! the man before you had one of my ships with my possessions in it decreed to him by this august court on the ground that I was unwilling to give him back the eye he had pawned to my father, even on receiving the money advanced on it. Now, sire, I beg with all humility to say that I was not in the least unwilling to let him have his property on the receipt of my money but only unprepared to do so because I had not the eye then with me. I was just going to explain this to him, when he grew mad with fury and sought your majesty's presence. Now I admit his claim, and I will return him the eye as soon as I can find it, on my return home, among the many eyes that were pawned to my father, and are carefully preserved in our family treasury. All that I want is a little time, and the other eye of this man, for without it, it will be impossible for me to find its fellow. Order it then to be plucked out, and made over to me, and for the faithful performance of my promise, I will leave with him that ship of mine which is already in his possession."
The speech being ended, the claimant of the eye looked glum and vacant and finally ran out of the court, hooted and pelted with stones by the gang of robbers. The court then ordered the merchant to take possession of his fourth ship. This was soon done, and he who had been the victim of so many chicaneries left the wicked country, awarding one of his ships to the head robber in grateful acknowledgment of his matchless and disinterested services.