The Depredations of Abdul

Abdul

By “Hiercus”

“171XCUSE me, sahib, you want a £j cook?”

As a matter of fact, that was just what I did want* and after I had scrutinised a very laudatory testimonial from a pre vious District Medical Officer, I decided to engage Abdul. For a bachelor, he wasn’t a bad investment. He produced tolerable meals, and whisked away dust and cobwebs when their presence became too obvious.

He had not been with me for long before he asked if I would permit him to have a credit account in my name at one of the local stores; his account there to be deducted from his monthly wages.

Not long after, it became necessary for me to go on a journey and, owing to the lack of banking facilities, to secrete some cash, mainly in notes, in the house.

Soon after my return, I went to the cash box, which I had imagined to be so well concealed, to find it as bare as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.

The police proved that during my absence Abdul had paid off all of his many debts, had enjoyed thirty shillings’ worth of taxi-rides, and had flourished a roll of notes before a party of gamblers, alleging that he had found them on the road. No witnesses appeared for the defence. But still, a yawning magistrate said that the case was dismissed.

Two weeks later, an early-riser was surprised to observe a yaka chest of drawers standing all alone in the middle of the road, at 3 a.m. Inquiries were made, and it was discovered that Abdul had been going in for nocturnal furniture removing in a large way. This time, even the magistrate was convinced, and gave him six months.

Meanwhile, my monthly accounts at the stores had come in, showing that Abdul, in my name, had purchased £5/16/- worth of goods, for which I had to pay. f Even gaol could not suppress Abdul’s depredatory instincts. While doing his time, he succeeded in stealing a fellow prisoner’s rations, in killing, cooking and eating the gaoler’s rooster, and he almost managed to trade a Government garbage tin to an itinerant tobacco vendor.

A FORMER employer of Abdul’s told me some amusing anecdotes con cerning that rascal’s past. At one time, Abdul had announced, with joy, his acquisition of a wife, having previously deserted one. A few nights after the completion of Abdul’s nuptials, his em ployer heard pitiable cries of “Sahib!

Sahib!” from without, and Abdul entered with a much-bruised face and a shirt wet with blood, exclaiming; “Man hit me.”

“What man?” asked Mr. L.

“My wife’s husband,” was the rueful reply.

Mr. L. was also a loser in the credit account hoax; Abdul gave notice and cleared out to a far-away district a day or two before the accounts,* which added up to over £lB, arrived.

Three years after he had left my employ, I encountered Abdul again—this

time in the van of a detachment of prisoners being marched towards Suva Gaol after a day’s work outside the walls.

He was “in” that time for cattle-stealing; but he passed me with a cheery grin and “Salaam, sahib!”

Perhaps the best comment came from the DMO who had supplied the excellent testimonial and to whom I subsequently revealed Abdul’s enormities.

“Well, you know,” said the DMO, “there were times when I felt that Abdul was not quite honest.”