The Adventures of Saturnin Farandoul

by Albert Robida

  “Let’s await developments,” he said, philosophically. “We’ve made a poor start in Siam, but we’ll try to get ourselves out of it, all the same.”

  In the morning, after a few hours rest, he went back to the windows with Mandibul and the interpreter. The situation had not changed; the guards and Amazons were at their posts—but the king and the high dignitaries had disappeared.

  “Why aren’t they attacking?” asked Mandibul.

  “May the lord of Hell spare me!” cried the interpreter. “Don’t you know that the prescriptions of religion are obligatory? The king is an emanation of the Buddha; his 800 wives participate in his sanctity and are considered part and parcel of his divinity, the emanation of the supreme emanation! Any human being who penetrates into the apartments is guilty of sacrilege and must perish under torture. That’s why no one dares to come to arrest us….”

  “In that case, as we have no intention of surrendering ourselves in expiation of the crime of treason against the Buddha, this thing might last a long time. So be it! We’re in no hurry.”

  “What about food?” asked Mandibul.

  “Food? Well, what about the sacred spouses? We’ll share their meals; where there’s enough for 800 there’s enough for 820. Let’s go! Interpreter—ask the king’s wives what time they eat.”

  “Bravo! We’ve barely strayed into crime; we might as well go all the way. It’ll serve Siam right!”

  The 800 wives, somewhat reassured since the previous day, were crowding into the great hall. Farandoul asked their permission to invite himself unceremoniously to their meal, to which they acquiesced with a common accord. The slaves, on seeing the preparations for this new sacrilege, trembled from head to foot and awaited the personal intervention of the Buddha. The food having arrived from the royal kitchen as usual, however, they saw the mariners, sitting on the floor with the king’s wives, swallow the sacred nourishment without difficulty.

  Later that morning, a loud noise under the colonnade drew the mariners to the windows. The king had just arrived, shielded by the famous seven-story parasol, the insignia of royalty. The mandarins following him only had three-story parasols. Behind the court, between two columns of Amazon, came a long procession of talapoins and bonzes. The king was about to sit down on a chair prepared for his sacred person; mandarin and bonzes were squatting around him.

  “One might think that a ceremony were about to begin,” said Farandoul.

  The interpreter, dragged to the window, only needed a single glance to recognize what ceremony it was.

  “The bonzes of the great pagoda of Wat-Chan!” he cried. “They’re going to judge us. O Buddha, save me!”

  Indeed, everything seemed to be organized for a solemn hearing. Farandoul and his sailors had furnished Siam with a fine cause célèbre; the gravity of the audience, the solemn and indignant attitude of the bonzes and everything else indicated that the trial in question was unlikely to terminate with the acquittal of the accused.

  The trial began immediately, in conformity with all the regulations of Siamese justice. Firstly, the accused were summoned to surrender themselves to the tribunal, but when they refused it was decided that their presence at the windows was sufficient for the arguments to begin.

  The interpreter had to be carried to a window and held in place by four strong sailors in order to have the strength to listen without fainting to the minister of the police’s speech for the prosecution. Farandoul had to administer several doses of courage to him in the form of digs in the ribs to persuade him to raise his voice before the august tribunal. As a last resort, the application of a saber to his kidneys fortified him sufficiently. He began speaking, and explained to the bonzes that the mariners had only come to the palace with the intention of putting their courage and strength at the service of His Majesty the King of Siam, in particular to offer to undertake a search for the missing white elephant. Finally, he added by way of conclusion that the mariners profoundly regretted having mistakenly entered the sacred apartments, but did not consider themselves to be criminals on account of that inadvertence.

  A thunderous reply from the mandarin of the police literally knocked the interpreter over. Nao-Ching elaborated the accusation, demonstrated the horror of the crime committed against the religious law, and once again summoned the mariners to deliver themselves to justice.

  When Farandoul disdained to reply to this invitation, the chief bonze got to his feet and declared that the marines and the interpreter were convicted of a serious crime. After a short deliberation by the bonzes and the ministers, the assembly condemned the guilty “to have their heads cut off by the sword for the atrocious, unprecedented and ever-execrable crime of having penetrated into the sacred apartments of the first wife of the first class, Lang-lo-chang.”

  The judges’ verdict, translated by the interpreter, was very badly received by the mariners; they released a cry of anger and brandished their sabers and revolvers.

  “Come and collect them then—our heads!” cried Tournesol. “Come and see if you can!”

  “Bah!” said Mandibul. “Let’s calm down. What can they do to us, since they can’t arrest us? We’re all right here; we’ll stay.”

  “Bravo! Sultans forever!”

  “Silence!” shouted Farandoul. “It’s not finished—our judges are resuming the session.”

  Indeed, the bonzes had resumed their severe expressions to listen to a second speech from the mandarin of the police, Nao-Ching. The interpreter, a little calmer since his condemnation to death, resumed his function. Nao-Ching’s discourse was a second speech for the prosecution, couched in almost identical terms.

  The bonzes deliberated once again, and the president of the tribunal eventually condemned the mariners “to have their heads cut off by the sword for the atrocious, unprecedented and ever-execrable crime of having penetrated into the sacred apartments of the second wife of the first class, Kailaa”.

  “What, again?” murmured Mandibul. “That’s a bit strong.”

  “Wait, wait!” said the interpreter.

  The mandarin Nao-Ching took the floor again, making a third speech for the prosecution, and the bonzes, after a third deliberation as long as the first two, condemned the mariners “to have their heads cut off by the sword for the atrocious, unprecedented and ever-execrable crime of having penetrated into the sacred apartments of the third wife of the first class, Mith-ta.”

  “What, yet again?” cried Mandibul. “How cruel these Asiatics are!”

  In two hours, the mariners were further condemned to have their heads cut off for having penetrated into the apartments of the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh wives of the first class. The last time, Mandibul left the window to find out from the sacred wives what time the next meal would be served. “Condemned to have my head cut off seven times!” he murmured. “I think I’ll need to keep my strength up…” And while he savored the delights of a light lunch with the king’s wives, the judges, remaining in session, condemned him and the others to be subjected to decapitation by the sword five more times.

  On the 13th condemnation to the punishment of the sword the impatient Tournesol caused a scandal by interrupting the court from the window. “I’m getting bored with your decapitation by the sword,” he shouted. “Try to find something more elaborate—we’re worth better than that!”

  The session continuing, the tribunal condemned him personally for gravely offending His Majesty to the torture of “serious impalement, preceded by 300 strokes of a baton on the soles of his feet”. When the interpreter had explained this, Tournesol became very proud of this flattering distinction.

  The audience was suspended from noon to 3 p.m. so that the judges might eat and sleep, and then reopened with the same solemnity.

  Between 3 and 8 p.m., the mariners were condemned to be beheaded 18 times—which, together with the 13 condemnations of the morning, added up to 31 condemnations to decapitation, plus a particular condemnation for Tournesol.

  The sailo
rs, condemned to lose their heads 31 times, were dining with the king’s wives when the judges closed the session. They did not bother to get up; only Farandoul and Mandibul ran to the windows to bid the tribunal farewell and wish it a good night.

  The evening passed very agreeably in the sacred apartments; the king’s 800 wives had resumed their little routines, some taking light meals of sweetmeats and preserves, others performing bayadere dances to the strains of pianos and harps. Farandoul and Mandibul were the object of delicate attentions from the entire clan of first-class wives; services were performed for them, they were offered refreshments and immense feathery fans were agitated above their heads.

  Mandibul delighted all the sacred wives by organizing a gigantic game of blind man’s bluff, which lasted until midnight. The beardless slaves made themselves as inconspicuous as possible in order not to irritate their terrible guests. Farandoul was tranquil; the barricades established at the doors made any invasion of the Siamese impossible—a needless precaution, in any case, since the solemn prescriptions of the religion forbade entry into the sacred apartments on pain of death.

  The following morning, at the same time as the previous day, the bonzes of the great pagoda arrived, along with the ministers and the royal parasol, which was charged with representing the monarch and presiding in his place.

  Before the commencement, the mandarin of the police recalled the 31 condemnations of death pronounced the day before and asked among the guards for volunteers to go and apprehend the condemned men in the sacred apartments—warning them forthrightly that they too would have to be decapitated on their return, in obedience to religious law. There was no hesitation on the part of the guards; they did not even consult one another. With one accord, the entire regiment remained mute in the face of the proposition.

  The mandarin Nao-Ching began his 32nd speech for the prosecution. The bonzes deliberated and pronounced a thirty-second condemnation for the crime of having penetrated into the sacred apartments of the 32nd queen.

  We have no intention of giving a full-length account of this celebrated trial; that would take too long. Readers desirous of following the debates step-by-step can consult the Gazette of Bangkok , the official organ of the Siamese government, in the library. They will find the proceedings of the session recorded there one by one, along with the speeches of the mandarin of the police and the pleas of the Siamese interpreter, the sole defender of the accused.

  The debates lasted 24 full days without any interruption. From the second day onwards the King of Siam was represented by his parasol, but the mariners glimpsed him many times, hidden in the galleries facing the sacred apartments, attempting to enter into communication by means of signs with one or other of his 800 wives. Farandoul was alert; he had strictly forbidden any sort of communication with the monarch, in order to incline him to gentler ideas. The unfortunate husband was profoundly bored in his solitude. It was all getting on top of him; his white elephant had been stolen, his people were restless and, to put a cap on his misfortune, his 800 wives had been sequestered by cruel enemies!

  On the evening of the 24th day, after the last speech for the prosecution and the last condemnation, the exhausted mandarin of the police made a summary of the debates. The persons named Farandoul and Mandibul, their 17 mariners and the Siamese interpreter, having merited death 800 times, had been condemned to be decapitated by the sword 800 times; in addition, the mariner Tournesol, for gravely offending the majesty of the judges, would, preliminary to the execution of the other sentences, receive 300 strokes of the baton and be subjected to the punishment of serious impalement.

  The mandarin concluded by calling for volunteers, as he had done at the commencement of every hearing, to extract the condemned from the sacred apartments. Needless to say, apart from one young guard driven to suicide by the grievous cruelty of a lover, none presented themselves.

  As the tribunal was about to close its session, Farandoul began to speak.

  “Thank you, 800 times over, honorable bonzes! I don’t want to waste your time, but I ought, before allowing you to depart, to submit one small observation to you. We have been condemned to be decapitated 800 times, plus a few trivia for one of us—that’s all well and good. But the execution of your sentences will encounter a few difficulties. Firstly, you cannot come to apprehend us physically, under pain of undergoing the same punishments, and secondly, we have no intention of surrendering. We shall therefore take up residence in the sacred apartments, organizing our life there as comfortably as possible. We shall have no lack of distractions. In the meantime, your white elephant, which we sought to recover, will have time to disappear forever, and your monarch will be more inconvenienced than us. That’s all I have to say.”

  II.

  Farandoul was right. The Siamese monarch, wandering like a soul in torment, had been seeking a way out of the difficulty for 24 days. The situation was not promising; he understood perfectly well that, rather than expose themselves to having their heads cut off even once, the mariners would prefer to spend their entire lives in the sacred apartments. And what about his 800 wives? O sadness! And his white elephant, which might be gone forever?

  All these thoughts troubled the monarch, all the more so because the political horizon was visibly darkening. The loss of the white elephant had upset the people, and now an extraordinary trial had overexcited minds in the capital. It was known in the palace that strange rumors were circulating in the city; under the pressure of public opinion, an intense ministerial crisis had now broken out. All the ministers were under suspicion, save for the minister of the police—who, by virtue of his energetic attitude in the course of the debates, had become the idol of the populace.

  After a week’s reflection, the king, could only see one way to crush the hydra of anarchy and re-establish the tranquility of his nation. He had to negotiate with the audacious mariners who had invaded his palace; he had to offer them mercy and launch them in pursuit of the sacred elephant. In that fashion, he would recover his 800 wives and his white elephant. Order would be restored to the capital.

  The proposal, put before the council of ministers, gave rise to the stormiest discussions; the mandarin Nao-Ching, in particular, was hostile to any conciliation, but the majority prevailed and negotiations were opened.

  Things proceeded rapidly, quickly concluding in an agreement. The most difficult thing was to have the Siamese interpreter included in the amnesty. The king refused; finally defeated, he demanded by way of compensation that Tournesol, let off his 800 condemnations to decapitation, should at least submit to simple impalement for the satisfaction of the tribunal. Finally, Tournesol too was granted mercy. Solemn letters of full and complete amnesty, duly sealed, were sent to Farandoul. The latter then came down, followed by a few mariners, to make the final arrangements with the king regarding the search for the white elephant.

  The king took Farandoul to the deserted temple of the white elephant, explained to him the circumstances in which the theft must have been committed, and gave him a life-sized photograph of the animal to assist in the conformation of its identity.

  The sum of the reward was, of course, maintained. Farandoul promised the king to bring the white elephant back, dead or alive, and staked his reputation on it. To cover his initial expenses he received a small advance on the reward.

  It was now necessary to organize the departure. The sailors bade farewell, almost regretfully, to the 800 sacred wives; a few of them carried away photographs signed in the Siamese language as souvenirs. As for Tournesol, who was full of fury against Siam, it required all Farandoul’s diplomacy to persuade him to leave the sacred apartments, where he wanted to remain alone.

  That was not the end of it, though. A new storm was gathering over the palace. The mandarin of the police having whipped up popular passion by clandestine means, a considerable commotion had broken out in the city. The palace was already surrounded by a tumultuous mob loudly demanding the sacking of the ministers and the execution
of the court’s sentences.

  The regiment of Amazons, so faithful hitherto, sided with the mob. Its colonel, in violent harangues, spoke of solving the ministerial crisis by hanging the ministers if the white elephant was not returned immediately.

  The situation was serious. The palace gates, defended by timid slaves, could easily be forced. Farandoul, brought up to date with the situation, asked the king for full authority over the defense. To begin with, he sent Mandibul to load the two cannons at the main gate, and distributed his mariners at vulnerable points. This would gain him a few hours, of which it was necessary to take full advantage. But what should he do? Farandoul quickly came up with an idea; he gathered four sailors, visited the palace’s store-houses and outbuildings, and discovered what he needed in a summer-house under repair. The slaves having been sent away, Farandoul and his sailors, shielded from all indiscreet gazes, shut themselves up with the king in the royal stables to undertake a mysterious enterprise.

  At the main gate, Mandibul was on watch with a lighted match. The rest of the mariners were stationed at the minor gates, fortified and barricaded, with an arsenal of loaded rifles at their disposal. Outside, the mob howled without daring to approach too close to the rifles gleaming in the crenellations.

  What were Farandoul and his four sailors doing in the royal stables in the meantime? Were they preparing a mine, hollowing out a tunnel for an escape? No—they were simply doing some painting, before the monarch’s eyes.