Part 5
We cowered as they drew overhead. They circled round the ship, each clutching its mighty rock and giving forth cries of rage and fury. Now they hovered above us, and one let go his missile of destruction. Our steersman, bent on taking the vessel this way and then that, evaded the falling crag, which fell a caster's throw astern. The ship danced high on the mountain waves raised by the falling mass, and then fell as deep into the watery valleys between them. We thought our time had come, but it was not yet, though it was soon to be. No sooner had we come to rest on a level tide than the other rukh hovered above us and dropped its crag. It struck the ship in the middle and split it to pieces.
In that moment all was a swirl of confusion. The crash of the rock, the cries of the giant birds, the wash of the waves on my ears--these were the last things I knew. It seems to me that I gripped some wreckage, and, lying thereupon in a swoon, was borne onwards by the tide to the shores of an island; for, when I awoke to life, I found myself on a sandy slope, with my head on the high-water mark and my feet against the stranded wreckage that had supported me.
As if from death's door I crawled up and away, gaining strength as I went, until I reached a point from which I could view the nature of the island. Allah! What a paradise it was! Streams of fresh, pure water wimpled down between banks where grew the lordliest trees laden with the rarest fruits. The sight gave me fresh strength. I rose and wandered from stream to stream, drinking the cool water and plucking and eating the delicious fruit. But, O Sindbad the Landsman, though I knew it not, there was a vile snake in this paradise, as I was soon to discover to my cost.
Coming at length to a stream of some width, I sat down upon a mossy bank with my back against a tree to watch the rippling current purling by. Lulled by this and the songs of the birds, I became drowsy and turned to find a soft bed on the moss, when I caught sight of an object which arrested my attention. There, sitting against the tree next to mine, was an aged man of comely and benevolent aspect.
I regarded him intently. What a kindly old man he looked, with his flowing silver locks and his ample white beard! The more did I consider him one of nature's innocent children from the fact that his body was clothed from the waist downwards with the green leaves of trees--a raiment neatly threaded together on the fibres of some plant. As I scrutinised his appearance intently for some moments I felt that here was one of the simplest and kindliest disposition, who knew not the meaning of wrong. I arose and advanced towards him, but, when I spoke, he shook his head sadly and sighed. Alas! Was he deprived of the power of speech? To make certain, I saluted him, saying, 'Allah be with thee!' But he merely bowed his head, making no other reply. All my questions brought never a word: he was, indeed, dumb. But he could make intelligent signs, and I perceived by these that it was his greatest wish to be carried across the stream. Seeing that he was old and infirm as well as dumb, I readily consented. My heart was sorry for him, and I stooped down and told him to climb upon my shoulders. This he did with alacrity, and so I carried him over the stream.
[Illustration: KNOWEST THOU MY NAME IS ALSO SINDBAD? p. 44]
But, when I stooped for him to dismount on the further bank, he showed no manner of inclination to do so. On the contrary, he gripped me with both hands round my throat, and beat me violently in the ribs with his heels. What with the throttling, and the hard blows with his heels, I swooned away; but, notwithstanding, when I regained my senses I found the old fellow still clinging like a leech to my neck. And now he belaboured me so unmercifully that I was forced to rise against my will.
Once on my feet I determined to shake him off, but he rode me well, and even my efforts to crush him against the trunks of trees were of no avail. I ran hither and thither wildly, employing every trick against him, but all in vain: he kept his seat, and with hand and heel punished me severely. In less than an hour I was broken to the will of this truculent fellow, and he guided me hither and thither among the fruit-trees, pulling me up when he would gather fruit and eat, and urging me on again when he so desired.
In this fashion he stuck to me all that day, and such was his behaviour that I forswore my first opinion of him. He was by no means the gentle being I had thought him. Though he clung so close we were not friends, nor likely to become such. I was his bond-slave, and he ceased not to remind me of it by his utterly vile behaviour. When I dallied he thrashed me unmercifully with his feet; when I thought to brush him off against the overhanging branch of a tree he would duck his head and throttle me with his long bony hands. At night, when I slept exhausted, I woke to find him digging his heels into me in his sleep; indeed, once it seemed that I had thwarted him in a dream, for he thrashed me up and treated me abominably. I thought my end had come.
Thus for many days and nights was I beridden by this abandoned fellow, forced hither and thither at his will, with never a word from him, though he had many from me. So great was my agony that I turned upon myself, crying, 'By the living Allah! never again will I do a kindness to any; never again will I show mercy!'
Long I pondered by what subtle trick I might unseat him. I thought of many things, but dared not try one of them, lest it should fail and I be punished unmercifully. But at last Allah took pity on me and threw a strange opportunity in my way.
It chanced that, one day, while I was being goaded about the island, we came upon a place where pumpkins grew. They were ripe and luscious, and, while the old fellow was eating greedily, I bethought me of a fashion of our own country. I gathered some of the largest, and, having scooped them out, I filled them with the juice squeezed from grapes which I found growing in abundance near by. Then I sealed them up and set them in the sun. In this way I obtained in a few days a good quantity of pure wine.
The old man did not notice my curious behaviour--he was always engaged in eating pumpkins--until one day I drank so deep of my new-made wine that I became exalted, and danced and rollicked about with him among the trees. With fist and heel he sought to sober me, requiring to know the reason of my merriment. At length I took him to the spot where I had laid my pumpkins in the sun, and then, laughing and dancing again, signed to him that they contained pure wine.
The idea was new to him, but, when he understood that I had drunk with such pleasant results, he insisted on drinking also. So I unsealed one of the pumpkins and handed it to him, whereupon he drank and smacked his lips. Then he drank again and again and again, with evident satisfaction, until the wine taking effect, and the pumpkin being empty, he broke it over my head and bade me hand him another. This also he emptied and broke in the same manner. Being by this time in a state of vile intoxication, he thrashed me thrice round the open space, and then in among the trees, behaving in the wildest manner possible, rocking and rolling from side to side with laughter.
Now I had not drunk so much of the wine that I could not see my chance. I adopted the utmost docility, and, never letting him suspect my purpose, contrived to regain the place where I had laid the pumpkins in the sun. As I had expected, he demanded another, and I gave it him. This time he drank half the wine and emptied the remainder over my face,--so vile was this creature of sin. Then I perceived with joy that he was losing control of his limbs. He swayed from side to side, and his head lolled. Slowly I unwound his legs from my neck, and then, with a vicious twist, I flung him on the ground.
As I looked upon him lying there, my joy turned for the moment to uncontrollable fury. I thought of what I had endured at the hands of this aged villain. Should I allow him to live he would surely serve some other poor shipwrecked traveller in the same abominable fashion. The island would be well rid of such an inhuman monster. Without another thought I slew him then and there. May his accurséd spirit be ridden for ever by a worse than himself!
I went forth upon the island like one walking on air. Never was mortal man rid of so heavy a burden as I had just flung from me. Even the very atmosphere of the place seemed light and joyous with relief. The streams rippled more merrily, the birds sang more sweetly, the dreamy trees sighed with content as if at a great and long-desired riddance. They all seemed to feel that this terrible old man no longer oppressed them: his legs were no longer round their necks, his masterful feet and hands no longer gripped them in a vice. Rid--all was rid of an intolerable burden. Having found a shady spot, I sank down on the bank of a stream and wiped my brow, thanking Allah devoutly for this sweet deliverance.
For long days thereafter I sat by the seashore scanning the ocean for the speck of a sail. But none came in sight, and I was abandoning myself to the thought that Allah had rescued me from one peril only to consign me into the hands of another--that of death by desolation--when one morning I descried a large ship standing in towards the shore. She cast her anchor, and many passengers landed on the island. With a great shout of joy I ran down to greet them. Many voices answered mine, and all plied me with questions respecting my condition. Presently, perceiving that my case was extraordinary, they ceased questioning while I told them my story. They listened with amazement. Then some one said:
'In my travels in these seas I have heard many tales of such an old man of whom thou speakest, dwelling alone upon an island, and lying in wait for shipwrecked sailors. I know not how these tales were spread abroad, for it is said that of those he has ridden none has survived. Thou art the only survivor. His name is called the Old Man of the Sea. But now he is no more: Allah be praised for that! and thou hast escaped: Allah be praised for that also!' And all extolled the greatness of Allah.
I returned with them to the ship, and they clothed me in rich apparel and set food and wine before me; and, when I had refreshed myself, we made merry as the ship set sail.
We were bound for El-Basrah, and my thoughts flew further,--to Baghdad, the Abode of Peace.
* * * * *
Great as had been the sufferings I endured, I soon forgot the perils which had threatened me by sea and in unknown lands. Lapped in luxury in the bosom of my family, I lived in Baghdad, the Abode of Peace, in the utmost joy and happiness.
And now, O Sindbad the Landsman, thou shalt dwell here with me for ever in content, and be my well-beloved boon companion. Thou hast suffered much on land, but thou hast never been in far-off lands and seas where I, as you shall further hear, have suffered enough for the two of us. Wherefore, remain thou beneath my roof, for I have conceived an affection for thee; and together we shall live in happiness, praising Allah (whose name be exalted!) the Omnipotent Creator of Land and Sea and all the wealth which cometh therefrom.
[Illustration:
I NEVER AT ALL SAW SEWING SO SMALL
p. 55]
THE LITTLE SEAMSTRESS
A FRENCH SONG OF THE OLDEN TIME
A DEAR little seamstress in Paris I knew; The tiniest possible stitches she drew. I never at all Saw sewing so small!
She made the Notary neckties new; The Apothecary, he had some too. I never at all Saw sewing so small!
The Apothecary, he had some too,-- Seamstress, what do I owe to you? I never at all Saw sewing so small!
Seamstress, what do I owe to you? Just six nothings, no more is due. I never at all Saw sewing so small!
Just six nothings, no more is due. Give me a kiss, then,--or give me two! I never at all Saw sewing so small!
THE REAL PRINCESS
AFTER A FAIRY TALE BY HANS ANDERSEN
ONCE upon a time there was a prince, and, as he knew very well that he was a _real_ prince and could never forget it for a single moment, he very naturally wanted to marry a _real_ princess. He sought one after another, and, after talking about the weather and the health of the emperor, he found in each case that there was something about them he didn't like--something artificial and unprincess-like. When he spoke gently they smiled; when he spoke roughly to hurt them, they still smiled--the same smile. They were not a success. None of them was what he wanted. His princess must be so sensitive that she would wither at a reproachful glance; so delicately dainty that a spot of dust would make her scream, and the draught of a fly's wings cause her a severe cold. He would have the real thing, or nothing.
When this exacting prince had duly considered all the princesses in his own country, and found them wanting, he set out to travel all over the world, forever saying to himself, 'I am a real prince: there _must_ be a real princess somewhere.'
He found plenty of princesses on his travels, but when he spoke to them about the weather he soon found that they were not what he called _real_ princesses. They were the daughters of kings and queens, yes, but----
Sad and weary he returned home with an empty heart. He had not found what he set out to seek, yet he was firmly convinced that the world did contain such a thing as a real princess. He wanted her so badly, and that was how he knew that she must be there--somewhere.
[Illustration: NOT A WINK THE WHOLE NIGHT LONG p. 59]
And he was right.
One evening as he was sitting in his father's palace, studying books of far-off lands where princesses might be found, there came a fearful thunderstorm. The lightning grasped at the earth, spreading its roots down the walls of heaven; the thunder split and roared and rattled as if the ceiling was coming down; and, when the cloud-man unsealed his can and tipped it up, swish came the rain in torrents. Indeed, it was a fearful night.
When the storm had risen to the height of its fury a messenger came running to the king crying, 'Your Majesty gave orders that all gates be locked and barred, and opened to none; but some one without knocks and knocks and knocks, and will not go away.'
'I will go myself,' said the king, 'and see who it is that craves admittance in this fearful storm.'
So the king went down and opened the palace gates. What was his astonishment to see standing there a lovely maiden all forlorn, her long hair drenched with the rain, her beautiful clothes saturated and clinging to her form, while the water, trickling from them, ran out at her heels. She was in a terrible plight, but she was beautiful, and she said she was a princess--a real princess. Her mind was distracted: she could not remember how or whence she came, but, being a princess, and seeing the palace gates, she had run through the storm and knocked hard.
'A real princess,' said the king, looking her up and down 'Hm! I believe you, though the queen mightn't. Come in!'
The old queen received the visitor coldly and with a critical eye. 'We shall soon see if she is what she says she is,' thought she, but she said nothing. Then she went into the spare bedroom, and took off all the bed-clothes, and laid a pea on the bedstead. On top of this she piled mattress after mattress to the number of twenty, and then twenty feather beds on top of that. 'Now,' she said to herself, 'here she shall sleep, and we shall soon see in the morning whether she is a real princess or not.'
So they put the princess to bed on the top of the twenty feather beds and as many mattresses, and said good-night.
In the morning they asked her how she had slept.
'Not at all,' replied she wearily; 'not a wink the whole night long. Heaven knows what there was in the bed. Whichever way I turned I still seemed to be lying upon some hard thing, and, I assure you, this morning my whole body's black and blue. It's terrible!'
Then the old queen told what she had done, and they all saw plainly that this was indeed a real princess when she could feel the pea through twenty feather beds and twenty mattresses. None but a real princess could possibly have such a delicate skin.
So the prince married her, quite satisfied that he had now found his real princess.
Now this is a true story, and if you don't believe it you have only to go and look at the pea itself, which is still carefully preserved in the museum--unless some one has stolen it.
MY LISETTE
AN OLD FRENCH SONG
OF all the pretty maidens There ne'er was lassie yet That looked so sweet and sprightly, That moved so gay and lightly, As my darling, my Lisette,-- Little pet!-- 'Tis Lisette whom I adore, And with reason, more and more!
Her face it is her fortune,-- But who will smiling let Me kiss it at my pleasure, Nor ever stint the measure?-- 'Tis my darling, my Lisette,-- Little pet!-- 'Tis Lisette whom I adore, And with reason, more and more!
Along the pavement tripping, Through sunshine and through wet, To all, as she advances, Who casts her winning glances?-- 'Tis my darling, my Lisette,-- Little pet!-- 'Tis Lisette whom I adore, And with reason, more and more!
To blind, and poor, and crippled, Who gives, without regret, Her bread, and does not sorrow That she must starve to-morrow?-- 'Tis my darling, my Lisette,-- Little pet!-- 'Tis Lisette whom I adore, And with reason, more and more!
Who oftentimes deceives me, Though truly no coquette,-- And then, for me, who hoaxes, Cajoles, and dupes, and coaxes?-- 'Tis my darling, my Lisette,-- Little pet!-- 'Tis Lisette whom I adore, And with reason, more and more!
Who, by her tender teaching, Has aided me to get The impudence and passion Of which my songs I fashion?-- 'Tis my darling, my Lisette,-- Little pet!-- 'Tis Lisette whom I adore, And with reason, more and more!
On week-days and on Sundays, Who, in my hovel set, Can turn its corners gloomy To a palace rich and roomy?--
[Illustration:
'TIS LISETTE WHOM I ADORE AND WITH REASON MORE AND MORE
p. 61]
'Tis my darling, my Lisette,-- Little pet!-- 'Tis Lisette whom I adore, And with reason, more and more!
When Prudence o'er our playtime Would hold a distant threat,-- 'Twixt now and what comes after, Who throws her merry laughter?-- 'Tis my darling, my Lisette,-- Little pet!-- 'Tis Lisette whom I adore, And with reason, more and more!
CINDERELLA
A FAIRY TALE FROM THE FRENCH
ONCE upon a time there lived a gentleman who married twice. He had one fair daughter by his first wife. Ella was sweet and gentle, taking after her dear dead mother, who had been the most lovable of women. His second wife, a widow with two hard-featured daughters, was very proud and overbearing; and, if her two daughters had only never been born, or, being born, had died, she would then have possessed the vilest temper in all the world. As it was, the three were all equally gifted in that respect.
From the very day of the wedding the step-mother and her daughters took a violent dislike to the young girl, for they could see how beautiful she was, both outwardly and inwardly; and green envy soon turns to hate. They dared not show it openly, for fear of the father's anger; but he, poor man, finding he had taken too heavy a burden upon his shoulders, fell ill and died,--simply worried into his grave. Then his young daughter reaped the full measure of jealousy and spite and malice which her step-mother and sisters could now openly bestow upon her. She was put to do the drudgery of the household at no wages at all, and what was saved in this way was spent on the finery so sorely needed to make the two hard-featured ones at all passable. The poor girl scrubbed the floors, polished the brights, swept the rooms and stairs, cleaned the windows, turned the mangle, and made the beds; and in the evening, when all the work was done, she would sit by the kitchen fire darning the stockings for recreation. When bedtime came she would gaze awhile into the fire, answer the door to her step-sisters coming home from the theatre in all their finery; and then, with their stinging words still in her ears, she would creep up to bed in the garret, there, on a wretched straw mattress, to sleep fast for very weariness and dream of princes and palaces till at morning light she had to begin her dreary round again.
And it was indeed a dreary round. No sooner had she begun to sift the cinders when the bell would ring, and ring again. One of the sisters wanted her,--sometimes both wanted her at once. It was merely a matter of a pin to be fixed, or a ribbon to be tied, but when she came to do it she met with a shower of abuse. 'Look at your hands, you dirty little kitchen slut! How dare you answer the bell with such hands? And your face!--go and look in the glass, Ella: no, go straight to the kitchen pump,--you filthy little slut!'
The 'glass' was corrected to the 'kitchen pump' because they knew very well that if she stood before the glass she would see the reflection of a very beautiful girl--a reflection which they themselves spent hours looking for but could never find.