Mary Baker-Willkos was a talented con artist who led the whole of England's high society around by the nose, pretending to be a princess of an exotic country. And she would not have been exposed, if not for pure chance....
It was April 1817. Not knowing who to turn to or how to help the bewildered stranger, the shoemaker took her to Samuel Worrell, the parish trustee for the poor. Worrell was used to dealing with beggars, but this case was new to him: the girl did not know a word of English, but she recognized the painted pineapple. She pointed her finger at it and said clearly: “ananas.” This did not help the investigation too much, because this is the name of the plant in many languages.
The girl looked tired and big. The poor shoemaker noticed her wandering along the road near Bristol. He would not have paid much attention to her - there are few beggars wandering about near towns begging for alms. But there was something unusual about the stranger: though her clothes were dirty, they were not like the rags of ordinary beggars, and she wore a colorful turban on her head. When the shoemaker asked the traveler if she needed help, she answered him in an unknown language.
All Worrell could understand was that the girl's name was Karabu and she was obviously not English. Having no idea what to do with Karabu, Worrell handed her over to the authorities, who in turn placed her in St. Peter's Hospital, a hospital for vagrants and the poor.
The fate of the lost one might have been quite sad if her babbling had not been overheard by chance by a Portuguese sailor. “I know what she is saying!” - he said, and translated Caraboo's words. She told him that she was the princess of a tiny kingdom lost on an island in the Indian Ocean. She had been captured by pirates, but in Bristol Bay the girl had managed to jump overboard. After a long journey to the shore and exhausted, she was saved.
Her story was later recorded as follows: “Princess Karabu was born on the island of Yavasu in the Indian Ocean. She was the daughter of a dignitary, of Chinese descent, and a 'modinka' (Malay woman) who was later killed during a clash between the 'Bugu' (cannibals) and the Malays.
One day she was strolling in her father's garden on Yavasu Island when she was lured outside by some “samin” (women), and further ended up in the hands of pirates under the command of one Chi-Min. The bound princess was sent to a ship, and her father chased after her and managed to hit one of the female pirates with an arrow. The princess herself, having freed herself, dealt with two of the kidnappers, stabbing one of them to death with a Malay kris and seriously wounding the other. Only a local “jasti” (doctor) was able to save his life.
A few days later the captive princess was sold to Captain Tappa Boo. She was taken by boat to a brig. This ship then sailed for four weeks, then at some port took on board four women travelers and landed them five weeks later at another unknown port. The ship then set sail for Europe and reached the coast of England after eleven more weeks, but the princess, driven to despair by the mistreatment, jumped overboard and swam to shore.
She then managed to exchange (apparently for food) her gold-adorned garment and turban with an English woman living in a green house, and obtained with it a shirt and shawl, in which she appeared in Gloucestershire. And so at last, after six weeks of wandering, she found a roof over her head.”
The authorities, recognizing that they had a royal person in their hands, albeit from a distant unnamed island, quickly released her from prison. Since there was no place to put her, Worrell took her under his wing. Mrs. Worrall quickly surrounded Karaba with her care. She introduced her to the local gentry, and the princess was warmly welcomed.
She was brought fabrics, and the princess made herself a fancy garment with sleeves to the ground, a wide embroidered belt and a turban.
Everyone was mesmerized by her strange habits, completely uncharacteristic for a girl of the XIX century. She was excellent at archery, knew how to fence, swam naked in lakes, prayed “Allah Tallah”, one hand covering her eyes, and drank and ate only from dishes that she washed with her own hands.
The servants of the House of Warell, and not only they, were at first skeptical of the stranger, considering her no more than an adventuress. But the princess played her role brilliantly: she never once mixed up the words and did not lose her tongue, even in her sleep she mumbled in her own dialect. And she was also taken to London, where an artist painted her portrait. Which was the reason for her exposure.
Apparently, Karabu still feared exposure, because she had once tried to escape from the Worrall house. She was unsuccessful, however. And after her escape, she contracted typhoid fever and was between life and death for several days.
At that time, her portrait appeared in the newspaper and was recognized by a Mrs. Neal. The woman said that the portrait was not a princess, but Mary Willcox, by her husband, Baker. The daughter of a penniless Devonshire shoemaker. Mary, she said, had served in several houses and rented a room from Mrs. Neal, entertaining her children with language of her own composition.
There was nowhere to go, and Mary Baker confessed to her antics. Interestingly, she never used her lie for profit, because she never even tried to take expensive gifts or jewelry from the Worrall house with her during her escape. Everything said that Mary was simply endowed with a marvelous imagination, which made the whole world seem small to her.
Mary was reluctant to talk about her life as a servant and changed her story so that even those who knew her could not tell where it was truth and where it was fiction. Most likely, Mary was the daughter of a poor shoemaker, and at a very tender age she had to work hard. When Mary grew older, she was hired as a servant in a rich house. She found the work too hard, and even considered hanging herself, but a “voice from above” stopped her.
Mary's stories were full of vivid details, and it was impossible to distinguish truth from fiction: they included bandits and swearing on a dagger, a child born out of wedlock and gypsies. Her former employers called her a “wild and strange” girl.
Angry and disgraced, Mr. and Mrs. Worrell sent the former princess by ship to America. A few years later, the girl returned to England and tried to earn money by public appearances as a princess. But the interest in Karabu managed to fade away, famous Mary never became. Eventually Mary settled in Bedminster and married.
“The last I heard of her,” noted George Price, the city librarian, “was that she married and had a daughter. She finally settled in this city, where she spent the rest of her life, finally settled down, and became a supplier of leeches to the Bristol Hospital, and she herself administered them at the patient's request.”
Nowadays, Mary could have been a writer, actress or director - her imagination knew no bounds. If she had been born in a different era or into a different family, things might have turned out differently.