The Literature of Arabia: With Critical and Biographical Sketches by Epiphanius Wilson
General
The Literature of Arabia: With Critical and Biographical Sketches by Epiphanius Wilson
Arabic literature
When the sun rose I crept down from the tree with hardly a hope of
escaping the dreadful fate which had overtaken my comrades; but life is
sweet, and I determined to do all I could to save myself. All day long I
toiled with frantic haste and collected quantities of dry brushwood,
reeds and thorns, which I bound with fagots, and making a circle of them
under my tree I piled them firmly one upon another until I had a kind of
tent in which I crouched like a mouse in a hole when she sees the cat
coming. You may imagine what a fearful night I passed, for the snake
returned eager to devour me, and glided round and round my frail shelter
seeking an entrance. Every moment I feared that it would succeed in
pushing aside some of the fagots, but happily for me they held together,
and when it grew light my enemy retired, baffled and hungry, to his den.
As for me I was more dead than alive! Shaking with fright and half
suffocated by the poisonous breath of the monster, I came out of my tent
and crawled down to the sea, feeling that it would be better to plunge
from the cliffs and end my life at once than pass such another night of
horror. But to my joy and relief I saw a ship sailing by, and by
shouting wildly and waving my turban I managed to attract the attention
of her crew.
A boat was sent to rescue me, and very soon I found myself on board
surrounded by a wondering crowd of sailors and merchants eager to know
by what chance I found myself in that desolate island. After I had told
my story they regaled me with the choicest food the ship afforded, and
the captain, seeing that I was in rags, generously bestowed upon me one
of his own coats. After sailing about for some time and touching at many
ports we came at last to the island of Salahat, where sandal-wood grows
in great abundance. Here we anchored, and as I stood watching the
merchants disembarking their goods and preparing to sell or exchange
them, the captain came up to me and said:--
"I have here, brother, some merchandise belonging to a passenger of mine
who is dead. Will you do me the favor to trade with it, and when I meet
with his heirs I shall be able to give them the money, though it will be
only just that you shall have a portion for your trouble."
I consented gladly, for I did not like standing by idle. Whereupon he
pointed the bales out to me, and sent for the person whose duty it was
to keep a list of the goods that were upon the ship. When this man came
he asked in what name the merchandise was to be registered.
"In the name of Sindbad the Sailor," replied the captain.
At this I was greatly surprised, but looking carefully at him I
recognized him to be the captain of the ship upon which I had made my
second voyage, though he had altered much since that time. As for him,
believing me to be dead it was no wonder that he had not recognized me.
"So, captain," said I, "the merchant who owned those bales was called
Sindbad?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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