THE STORY OF SINDBAD THE SAILOR
ON THE SEVENTEENTH NIGHT
Sheherazade said:
… and I found everything as excellent as possible. So I did not move from the place where I was and continued to rest there from my fatigues until evening.
But when night came and I saw myself alone on this island, in the middle of these trees, I could not help, despite the beauty and the peace that surrounded me, to have an atrocious fear; so I could hardly sleep except with one eye open, and my sleep was obsessed with terrible nightmares, amid this silence and this solitude.
In the morning, I got up, calmer, and pushed a little further my exploration. I arrived in this way near a reservoir where water fell from a spring, and on the edge of this reservoir sat, motionless, a venerable old man draped in a large cloak made with the leaves of the trees. And I thought in my soul: "This old man must also be some castaway who, before me, will have found refuge on this island!"
So I approached and wished him peace. He returned my wish, but only by signs, without uttering a word. And I asked him: “O venerable sheik, how come you are in this place?" He did not answer me further, but he nodded with a sad air and made me signs with his hand which meant: "Please take me on your shoulders and make me cross the stream: I would like to pick fruit on the other side!"
So I thought: “Sindbad, you will certainly do a good deed by rendering this service to this old man!" So I bent down and loaded him onto my shoulders, bringing his legs to my chest; and he thus encircled my neck with his thighs and the head with his arms. And I carried him to the other side of the stream, to the place which he had pointed out to me; then I bent down again and said to him: “Come down very gently, oh venerable sheik!" But he didn't move! Instead, he tightened his thighs more around my neck and clung with all his might to my shoulders.
At this observation, I was on the verge of astonishment and looked more carefully at his legs. They seemed to me black and hairy and rough like the skin of a buffalo, and that frightened me very much. So, suddenly seized with boundless dread, I wanted to untangle myself from his embrace and throw him to the ground, but then he gripped my throat so tight that he half strangled me, and the world blackened before my face. I made one more last effort, but only to pass out, gasping for breath, and fall unconscious on the floor.
After a while, I came to, and though I fainted, I found the old man still clinging to my shoulders; he had only spread his legs slightly to allow air to enter my throat.
When he saw me breathing, he kicked me twice in the stomach, forcing me to get up. The pain made me obey, and I got back on my feet, while he clung more than ever to my neck. With his hand, he motioned for me to walk under the trees, and there he began to gather the fruit and eat it. And every time I stopped against his will or walked too fast, he kicked me very hard, forcing me to obey.
He remained all that day on my shoulders, making me go like a beast of burden; and when night came he made me lie down with him, so that he could sleep, still tied to my neck. And, in the morning, with a kick in the stomach, he woke me up to have me carried like the day before.
He remained thus clinging to my shoulders day and night, without interruption. He did all his liquid or solid needs on me and made me walk without pity, kicking and punching.
So I clearly saw that I had never suffered so much humiliation in my soul and so much ill-treatment in my body, than in the forced service of this old man, more solid than a young man and more pitiless than a donkey-driver. And I no longer knew what means to use to get rid of him, and I lamented the good movement which had made me take pity on it, and carry it on my shoulders. And really, at this moment, I was wishing myself death from the bottom of my heart.
I had already been in this deplorable state for a long time, when one day when he made me walk under trees from which hung large pumpkins, the idea occurred to me to use these dried fruits to make myself containers. So I picked up a large dry calabash that had long since fallen from the tree, I hollowed it out completely and cleaned it, and I went to pick some beautiful bunches of grapes from a vine, which I squeezed out until I filled it. I then corked it carefully and placed it in the sun, where I left it for several days until the juice had become pure wine. So I took the calabash and drank a sufficient quantity to raise my strength and help me bear the exhaustion fatigue, but not enough yet to get drunk. However, I felt cheered up and in great gaiety, so much so that, for the first time, I began to gambol here and there, with my load that I no longer felt, and to dance and sing through the trees. I even began to applaud while accompanying my dance and laughing out loud from my throat.
When the old man saw me in this unusual state and realized that my strength had multiplied so much that I carried it without fatigue, he ordered me by signs to pass the calabash to him. I was very annoyed at this request; but I was so afraid of him that I dared not refuse: so I hastened to give him the calabash, very reluctantly. He took it from my hands, raised it to his lips, tasted first to try, and, as he found the liquor agreeable, he drank it, emptying the calabash to the last drop and then throwing it away from him.
Soon the effect of the wine began to take its toll on his brain; and as he had drunk enough to get drunk, he was not long in dancing first in his own way and wiggling on my shoulders, then sagging, all muscles relaxed, and leaning to the right and to the left holding on just enough not to fall.
So, feeling that I was no longer tight as usual, with a quick movement I untied his legs from my collar, and with a shove I sent him jumping a few feet and rolling on the ground, where he remained motionless. So I leaped on him, and, picking up an enormous stone between the trees, I struck him on the head with various well-aimed blows that I crushed his skull and mixed his blood with his flesh. He died! May Allah never have compassion on his soul...
At this point in her narration, Sheherazade saw the morning appear and quietly fell silent.
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