Sinbad the Sailor

by Phil Masters

  SINBAD THE SAILOR

  BY PHIL MASTERS

  ILLUSTRATED BY aRU-MOR

  CONTENTS

  INTRODUCTION

  The 1,001 Nights Arrivals in Europe

  THE SEVEN VOYAGES OF SINBAD

  Sinbad the Porter and Sinbad the Sailor The First Voyage: Living Islands and Sea Horses The Second Voyage: The Flight of the Roc The Third Voyage: Evil Apes and Man-Eating Giants The Fourth Voyage: Cannibals and Caves of Terror The Fifth Voyage: Rocs, Again, and the Old Man of the Sea The Sixth Voyage: The River of Gems The Seventh Voyage: The Land of Winged Men

  THE ARABIAN NIGHTS WORLD

  Haroun al-Rashid and the Abbasid Period Medieval Baghdad Seafarers on the Indian Ocean Ships and Sailors Trade-Goods

  SINBAD IN LATER TIMES

  Sinbad the Legend Sinbad Movies

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  INTRODUCTION: TALES WITHIN TALES

  Sinbad the Sailor is one of the great travellers in world literature. He arrived in Europe at the beginning of the 18th century, and his stories became famous as part of the great Arabian Nights story cycle. This was the first of many times that European readers became a bit confused about Sinbad (alias ‘Sindbad’ or ‘Es-Sindibad of the Sea’). Actually, there’s no real evidence that his tale formed part of the Nights before then. Sinbad’s history is full of strange moments.

  The 1,001 Nights

  The Arabian Nights, also known as the 1,001 Nights, is a collection of folk-tales, parables, legends, and anecdotes, set within a unifying framework. The collection seems to have come to the Arab world from Persia some time before the 10th century; its earliest origins vanish into lost history, although some scholars think that the story-cycle may have originated in India. These stories would have been the repertoire of public storytellers giving performances in coffee shops and on street corners in their personal styles, so they probably changed a lot over time. The earliest surviving manuscript goes back to 14th–15th-century Syria, although there is also a very small 9th-century Egyptian fragment.

  The framing story is famous. A great king discovers that his wife has been unfaithful, and, enraged at all women, resolves to avoid any more betrayals by taking a new virgin as his bride every night and having her executed in the morning. Eventually, though, Scheherazade, the daughter of his vizier, volunteers to be the next bride, tells him stories in the night, and ends them on a cliffhanger which makes him spare her so that he can hear the end of the tale. She repeats this process for 1,001 nights, even giving the king children along the way, until he announces that he will spare her completely, and they all live happily ever after.

  Today, the stories of Sinbad’s seven amazing voyages are often fitted into that framework. But the Sinbad stories actually have their own framework to hold them together – like that of the Arabian Nights, a matter of one fictional character telling stories to another. They also have their own, obscure history, perhaps going back to ancient Egypt; they certainly include scenes that can be traced back to ancient Greek epics. However, they probably owe most of their inspiration to stories of real Arab voyages on the Indian Ocean in the 8th–10th centuries.

  Arrivals in Europe

  In fact, Sinbad came to Europe ahead of Scheherazade. Both were brought by a French traveller and scholar named Antoine Galland, who visited the East and then returned home to a country where local fairy tales were in fashion among well-bred readers. Around 1701, he published a French translation of the Sinbad stories. When someone then told him that they were part of a larger work, he decided that the work in question must be the Nights, acquired that 14th–15th-century manuscript, which still exists (at least in part) and which doesn’t feature Sinbad, and published a heavily adapted French translation between 1704 and 1717. This was itself soon translated into English, although no direct English translations of any Arabic versions appeared until the 19th century.

  An illustration of one of Sinbad’s many monstrous encounters – in this case, a group of giant fish. (Mary Evans Picture Library)

  It is actually likely that it was only after Europeans started lumping Sinbad into the Nights that Eastern storytellers decided that they might as well do the same. Arabic manuscripts dating from after Galland’s work feature Sinbad, but there is no evidence that this was done earlier. There was certainly enough contact between East and West in the 18th century for ideas to migrate both ways. Nor is this is the only part of the Nights that may have flowed back to the East from Europe. It is possible that such well-known stories as those of Aladdin and Ali Baba may have been invented by Galland, or by Middle Easterners whom he employed for advice. But both the Nights and the Sinbad cycle developed from the first by absorbing stories from anywhere they could be found, so all this is really just part of a continuing process.

  This book tells the tale of Sinbad as it appears in modern versions of the Nights, and then looks at how Sinbad has moved on from there. But it all starts with his story.

  THE SEVEN VOYAGES OF SINBAD

  It is written that in the time of the Caliph Haroun al-Rashid, in his city of Baghdad, many wonders were seen and strange tales were told. The wealthy and powerful rubbed shoulders with the poor and unfortunate, and destiny could cast the one down and raise the other up in a moment. One tale of that age of wonder concerned a poor man and a rich man, who chanced to share a name, and who happened to meet one day.

  Sinbad the Porter and Sinbad the Sailor

  Among the thousands of poor men living in Baghdad was one known as Sinbad the Porter, who scraped a living carrying loads around upon his head. One hot day, he was carrying a heavy load through a wealthy part of the city when he passed the house of a merchant. The street before the house was swept and watered so there was no dust, and there was a wooden bench by the door. Sinbad the Porter felt very tired, so he stopped for a moment to mop the sweat from his brow.

  As he rested, a cool breeze blew through the door, carrying a pleasant scent of fine food and wine and the sound of beautiful music and birdsong from the courtyard within. Peering through the doorway, the porter saw richly-dressed servants and slaves.

  SINBAD’S NAME

  Thanks to these tales, ‘Sinbad’ is now quite a familiar name in the West, although it isn’t often encountered outside stories. (It does occur in one other set of stories within the Arabian Nights.) Despite this association, it is probably not Arabic in origin; it seems to be Persian, or possibly Indian, and it probably means ‘Lord of the Sindh River’. The Sindh, or Indus, is a river in what is now Pakistan, and sailors from the region were famously skilled. (Sinbad visits the region on his third voyage.) This may hint at part of the origin of the Sinbad stories.

  In addition, Sinbad is called ‘the Sailor’, which is perhaps his laqab, a nickname or title which often acted as something like a surname in early Arab societies. (For example, the Caliph Haroun’s laqab was ‘al-Rashid’, meaning ‘the rightly-guided’.) It might be more accurate to translate Sinbad’s laqab as ‘the seafarer’ or ‘of the sea’ rather than ‘the sailor’; in the stories, he generally leaves ship operation to professional captains, showing no special skills in that direction himself. He travels by sea a lot, but almost entirely as a merchant-passenger.

  Sinbad telling stories, as imagined by famous illustrator Gustave Doré.

  At this, Sinbad the Porter raised his eyes to heaven and gave praise to Allah. ‘O Creator and Provider,’ he said, ‘you bestow wealth without limit on those you favour. You make one man rich and another poor. You determine that the owner of this house shall live in comfort, while I live in poverty. None can oppose your judgement or omnipotence.’ And he recited verses in honour of the power of Allah.

  Then, as he took up his load and prepared to go on his way, a page-boy emer
ged from the house. ‘Come inside,’ said the page, ‘for my master wishes to speak with you.’

  Sinbad the Porter knew no polite way in which to refuse this invitation, so, leaving his load with the doorkeeper, he followed the page to a great hall where lords and sheiks were sitting on rich rugs among sweet-scented flowers, dining on dried fruit and other fine foods and wines, while beautiful slave-girls played music and sang. At the head of the hall sat a distinguished man whose beard was touched with grey. ‘By Allah,’ thought the porter, ‘this is Paradise, or the dwelling of some king.’ So he kissed the ground respectfully, invoked a blessing upon the assembly, and stood with his head bowed.

  ‘Come,’ said the master of the house, ‘sit by me and eat.’ Still knowing no way to refuse, Sinbad the Porter obeyed, wondering at the food he was offered, then washed his hands politely and thanked the company.

  ‘Be welcome here,’ said his host. ‘Now, what is your name, and what do you do for a living?’

  ‘My name is Sinbad,’ the porter replied, ‘and I carry loads about the city.’

  His host smiled. ‘That is a great coincidence,’ he said, ‘for my name also is Sinbad – men call me Sinbad the Sailor. Now, I would like to hear those verses I heard you recite outside my door.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ said Sinbad the Porter, ‘I live a hard life, which has taught me poor manners.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Sinbad the Sailor. ‘Please, my brother – repeat those verses.’

  And so Sinbad the Porter obeyed, and Sinbad the Sailor smiled again. ‘I see that you wonder at my fortune,’ he said. ‘But know this, my brother – I came to this through effort, hardship, and danger. I went on seven voyages, each of which makes a tale that will astonish you. Everything was fate and the will of Allah. Rest here a while, and I will tell you my story.’

  Sinbad the Porter bowed his head, and Sinbad the Sailor began his telling.

  The First Voyage: Living Islands and Sea Horses

  It is true, said Sinbad the Sailor, that my father was one of the great men of this city, a wealthy merchant. But he died when I was young, leaving me his property. Although he had taught me something of his trade, I grew up thinking nothing of that, but took possession of my inheritance and lived in ease and luxury, eating and drinking with my friends and thinking that my good fortune would last forever. By the time I realized my mistake, my inheritance was all but spent.

  POETRY, DESTINY, AND HOSPITALITY

  This frame story shows several themes which appear in many parts of the Arabian Nights, being common concerns of medieval Islamic culture. If some things look a little odd to modern readers, they would have been very familiar to the original audience.

  To begin with, Sinbad the Porter responds to what he sees by reciting poetry, probably from memory but perhaps actually extemporizing on the spot. This is a society with a huge respect for that art; Sinbad the Sailor and his guests are impressed by this.

  Secondly, Sinbad the Porter talks about destiny – his own as a poor man, and the very different destinies granted to the rich. Sinbad the Sailor responds by showing him how difficult and challenging his own destiny was. It’s still all rather arbitrary, but it doesn’t all go one way. In any case, there’s no point in complaining much, as Sinbad the Porter knows; Allah is all-powerful, and mortals cannot hope to understand His plan, they can only accept it with humility. This is very much an Islamic viewpoint; human beings have free will, but Allah alone knows the future, including what choices they will make. Fortunately, Allah is ultimately also just.

  And third, Sinbad the Sailor is incredibly generous. Generosity and hospitality are much-admired virtues in this society. They are particularly important to Arabs, originally a nomadic people, because decent treatment from strangers could be a matter of life and death for a lost wanderer.

  Of course, all this may well have sounded rather comforting to the poor city-dwellers who heard these stories in coffee-houses and on street corners. Their lives were poor and uncertain, but they could all dream of good luck – if not of making a fortune like Sinbad the Sailor, at least of making a good (rich) friend, as happens to Sinbad the Porter.

  The professional storytellers who told these tales could recite poetry from memory, and were basically buskers whose income depended on audience donations. Stories whose morals were ‘poetry recitals deserve a reward’ and ‘it’s good to be generous’ could have been good business for them!

  A young Sinbad at the time of his first voyage by aRu-Mor.

  At first I was horrified. But then I remembered a proverb of Solomon, the son of David (peace be upon them both!), which my father had told me. ‘Three things are better than three other things,’ he said. ‘The day of your death is better than the day of your birth, a live dog is better than a dead lion, and the grave is better than poverty.’ Reflecting on this, I decided what to do.

  Gathering up what was left of my moveable property and fine clothes, I sold them all, raising 3,000 silver dirhams. With that, I purchased trade-goods and the wherewithal for travel, and took passage on a ship with a company of merchants, sailing from Basrah.

  We sailed the ocean for many days, buying and selling wherever we landed and making good profits. Then, one day, we came to what we took for an uninhabited island, lush and beautiful as Paradise. The captain dropped anchor and put out a gangplank, and most of us went ashore. Some brought stoves so that they could make better fires than aboard ship, cooking meals and heating water so that they could wash clothes; others simply looked around.

  But then, suddenly, we heard a cry from the captain, who was still aboard the ship. ‘Save yourselves!’ he called. ‘Quickly – leave everything! This is not an island, it is a great fish, which has floated on the surface of the sea since the creation! Sands and silt have gathered on its back, and trees have grown there, but now it feels the heat of your fires! It is already stirring, and soon it will dive beneath the waves! Flee!’

  Those who had been resting leapt to their feet, and we all ran towards the ship. But the captain’s warning had come too late for some. The fish dived a moment later, and we were left amidst a chaos of cooking-pots and stoves. The captain, struggling to save his ship, did not look back; as I was engulfed by the waves, I watched him sail away.

  But by great good fortune, I was able to keep my head above water, and after a moment a wooden wash-tub floated past me. I grasped it, and so I stayed afloat even as everyone else drowned.

  ISLAND MONSTERS

  Sinbad’s encounter with an ‘island’ that is actually a sea monster isn’t unique in mythology. Similarly-confusing creatures appear in Greek bestiaries (the aspidochelone, a giant turtle), in Anglo-Saxon manuscripts (a whale named ‘Fastitocalon’), and in the Renaissance Italian epic Orlando Furioso. In the medieval Irish Navigation of St Brendan, the saint and his crew of monks encounter a giant fish named ‘Jasconye’ in the middle of the Atlantic, and make much the same mistake as Sinbad and his colleagues, though all the monks in that story survive. A 9th-century Arab writer called this creature the zaratan; a 13th-century Persian, like that Greek, thought that some sea turtles were big enough to inspire the mistake.

  This story may well have arisen independently more than once, perhaps inspired by sailors’ stories of whales. Accounts of creatures that were big enough to mistake for rock outcrops at first glance doubtless grew in the telling, and the image of sailors running for their lives as the ‘island’ shifts beneath them would have been too good to pass up. The aspidochelone was also explicitly a metaphor for Satan; a monstrous being who deliberately deceived humans whom he wanted to devour.

  Sinbad was not the only legendary seafarer to mistake a giant fish for an island. Here, a medieval Irish monk, St Brendan, has a similar encounter in the Atlantic. (Mary Evans Picture Library)

  I floated alone, holding onto the wash-tub, for a night and a day, but my luck held, as wind and currents carried me to another island. The shore there was steep and high, but there were trees growing do
wn to the edge, with branches hanging over the water, and I grasped hold of one, and hauled myself out. Only then did I realize that I had lost all feeling in my legs, and indeed fish had been nibbling the very flesh of my feet.

  And so I collapsed, unable to move, and fell asleep where I lay. The next morning I awoke, however, with just enough strength to look around, and discovered that the island had trees bearing edible fruit, and many fresh-water springs. Thus, gradually, I regained my strength. After a few days, I made myself a staff from a tree branch, and was able to explore a little more.

  So it was that, one day, I saw something new in the distance, that at first I took for a wild animal. Approaching closely, though, I saw that it was a horse, a fine mare, tethered by the shore. As I approached it in puzzlement, it saw me coming and let out a loud, shrill neigh. Startled and unnerved by this, I turned to retreat.

  Then, however, a man suddenly appeared, emerging from a hiding-place in the ground nearby and calling ‘Who are you and how came you here?’

  ‘Sir,’ I replied, ‘my name is Sinbad, and I am a stranger in this land. I was travelling on a ship when I was cast into the sea, and the waves brought me here.’

  At that, he became sympathetic. ‘Come with me,’ he said, taking me by the arm, and led me back to his hiding place. This was an underground chamber, where he sat me down and gave me food and drink. In return, I told him my full story. ‘But please, by Allah, tell me,’ I said when I had finished, ‘who are you, and why are you hiding, and why is that mare tethered by the sea?’

  ‘Well,’ my host said, ‘I am one of several men stationed here. We are the grooms of King Mihrajan, who rules this island, and tonight is the night of the new moon. On this night, the wonderful sea-horse will emerge from the waves onto this shore. That is why we bring virgin mares from our stables here. The sea-horse is a stallion, and when he catches their scent, he will come and mount one of them. Then he will try to take his new mate back under the waves, but we tether the mares firmly. So the stallion will grow angry, and batter the mare with his head and hooves. When we hear him, we will drive him off. Then, in due course, the mare will give birth to as fine a foal as any you have seen, worth a fortune.’