One night he sat alone at his favorite post, even the faithful Bader had grown weary and gone to his nightly rest, but Mūshteri was watching the evening star, that seemed to lie cool and dim in the moving water; the young moon was swinging high in the heavens, while her faint light touched the waves with silver and gleamed on the white wings of the night-birds. But a quick wind caught the sail and a cloud swept over the face of the moon, the sailors sprang to their posts and orders were hastily given. A storm was gathering in the eastern sky and soon the sails were reefed and the good ship was placed in readiness to ride out as best she could the coming peril.[peril.]
The Persian youth had no thought now of leaving his post; if the sea had been beautiful in her peaceful sleep, how much grander was the picture when the storm-spirit swept her waves into a fury,—when the wind smote the rigging like the edge of a hissing spear and the breakers dashed angrily against the hull. As the danger grew more imminent he went below and aroused Bader, but even while they were coming on the deck he perceived that the storm was increasing in fury and the gale was driving the helpless ship before it.
They were at the mercy of the blast, and soon a fearful shock told the story of the good ship’s doom: she had struck a rocky coast and rapidly her timbers parted. The two exiles were thrown together into the water, but after a few minutes of struggling and swimming, Mūshteri caught a floating beam and at last succeeded in getting himself and Bader to this position of temporary safety. The storm still raged, but they clung to this their only hope of life, while the greater part of the passengers and crew were drowned around them.
At last the tempest had exhausted its fury; the winds moaned over the angry billows and the sorrowing sea-birds wept; the morning star gleamed behind the passing clouds, but it looked upon a scene of desolation. After striking the coast the ship had floated back in fragments, while here and there a human being clung to a portion of the wreck, but they were now too far from the shore to be able to reach it, and there was little hope that they would be seen and rescued. All day they tossed upon the waves—all day they looked anxiously for aid, but night came down without hope, and another morning found them still at the mercy of the waters. A beautiful land covered with stately trees lay like a mirage in the distance, but no friendly wave carried them to the shore.
THE RESCUE.
The king of Derbend was hunting on the coast, and the wild gor that he was pursuing ran close to the water’s edge, where he received the fatal arrow before the king’s suite had overtaken the royal rider. While the monarch waited the coming of his attendants he rested beneath a tree and looked out upon the waste of waters; there he saw fragments of the wreck, and looking more closely he fancied there were human beings beyond. When his suite came up he ordered a boat to be manned, and soon the victims of the storm were gathered upon his hospitable shore; they were chilled, exhausted, and some of them died even there beneath the friendly hands that strove to bring the life-tide back.
Mūshteri and his friend were among the survivors and they became the guests of the generous king, who soon learned their story and took them to his palace home not far from the shore.
Their way lay through the low lands, where the tall bamboos bristled like spears in the battle ranks, but afterward the road was shaded with green-plumed dates and bel-trees, gorgeous with their crimson blossoms. The palace itself was placed in gardens where the blossoms hung in silvery sprays on the mango-trees, and the many colored fountains played like broken rainbows in marble basins. Within those royal courts it was a maze of light and loveliness; music from pipe and lute was borne through the cool casement, and beautiful dancing girls seemed to float through the soft measures. In the whirl of these graceful motions one could see rings and pearls and emeralds shining everywhere, while round the white necks of the dancers hung necklaces of diamonds that glowed like fire in the light of many lamps.
Such was the scene that greeted the eyes of the exiles when, after being provided with food and raiment, they were ushered into the home of their newly-found friend, and the air of rest and luxury was most grateful to the exhausted travelers.
Long they tarried as the guests of their royal host, but the heart of Mūshteri was never at rest; he grieved for his lost friend, and not even the luxuries of a court could in any way atone for his absence. Grateful for the kindness of the king, he was still wasting away in very grief for the companion of his childhood; Bader sought in vain to cheer him, to divert his thoughts with the luxury everywhere around him, but Mūshteri was ever haunted by a conviction that somewhere, at sometime, the happy companionship would be renewed, and he seemed to live only in this great hope.