Dutch was still laughing.
“Wait till I tell it the thirtieth, lad—wait till I tell it to your mutter.”
“Wait till you tell it to my ‘mutter’!—God!” The kid threw himself at Dutch, both arms flailing. The sailors laughed and scrambled for him, holding him from Dutch who had his head in his lap and was howling louder than ever. Finally the kid was exhausted and the sailors set him up in his chair. Dutch got up, went over to him and gave him a pat on the back.
“I’ll tell you the last one I picked up,” he said. “I was in Iran when I got this yarn out of a peddler who had brought it down from Baghdad. He sold it to me for coffee.”
The kid grinned and the sailors settled down.
“This peddler,” continued Dutch, “said there was a couple up there soon to be married when the Sultan spotted the woman. He takes her into his harem and bein’ a cruel son-of-a-bitch, orders his Chief Barber to castrate the man. Then he plans to bring the poor bastard into the Royal Household as Chief Eunuch so he can watch the guy suffer every time he sees his old girl. The fellow asks one favor—that his father, who is also a barber, be the one to do the trick.
“The Sultan says yes, but that he’ll take a look afterwards to see there’s no funny business. Well, the father’s a sport and gives his son a stroke with his blade ’midships, and fastens him up with a few stitches. The man takes it like a good egg, only he fans himself a bit and takes a bottle of spirits in one swig. He lays around for several days, and finally gets up, a little pale, but whole in body except for his watch pocket. Then he goes to the Palace and the Sultan takes a few sights at the evacuated area and is satisfied.
“Now the Sultan has led a hell of a life, and the girl tips off her sweetheart that in spite of turtle eggs, snake wine, pampas beetles and blended herbs from Crete, the old boy can’t get it up. So the Chief Eunuch tells her he has a little surprise for her; and they go down to the lily pond to observe the constellations. Then he returns to his post and she to her couch to sleep sweetly. A few months later the Sultan gets suspicious.
“The Favorite says, ‘You did it in your dreams, Celestial Master.’
“‘O.K., my little sugared rose leaf,’ says the Sultan.