The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor (preview)

HARPENDORE

Many moons ago a great king sentenced his innocent wife to death, but every night she tells the king a story, leaving the tale unfinished until the next night so that the king would spare her life to hear the ending.

This lasted for one thousand and one Arabian nights, until the king finally released her. This is just one of those tales ‌

Look out for more

The Adventures of Prince Camar and Princess Badoura Aladdin and his Wonderful Lamp Gulnare of the Sea Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor The Enchanted Horse The Talking Bird, the Singing Tree and the Golden Water The Merchant and the Jinni The Tale of Zubaidah and the Three Qalandars The Adventures of Harun al-Rashid, Caliph of Baghdad The Three Princes, the Princess and the Jinni Pari Banou The Fisherman and the Jinni The King’s Jester

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HARPENDORE

Published in Great Britain in 2017

by Harpendore Publishing Ltd 34 Priory Road, Richmond TW9 3DF, United Kingdom The name Harpendore® is a registered trade mark of Harpendore Publishing Ltd Text by Kelley Townley copyright © Harpendore Publishing Ltd 2017 Illustrations and cover illustration by Anja Gram copyright © Harpendore Publishing Ltd 2017 Arabian Nights Adventures™, names, characters and related indicia are copyright and trademark Harpendore Publishing Ltd, 2017™ All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Harpendore Publishing or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organisation. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to Harpendore Publishing at the address above.

You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover and you must impose the same condition on any acquirer.

A Catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-1-911030-04-1 (paperback)

Designed by Anne-Lise Jacobsen www.behance.net/annelisejacobsen

www.harpendore.co.uk

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C The Story of Sinbad the Sailor

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The First Voyage

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The Second Voyage

The Curious Island

The Valley of Gems 33

The Third Voyage

The Hungry Giant

61

The Fourth Voyage

The Land of the Cannibals

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The Fifth Voyage The Sixth Voyage The Seventh Voyage

The Old Man of the Sea

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The Enchanted River 159 The Last Adventure 185

The Story of Sinbad the Sailor

O

nce upon a time, in the great city of Baghdad, there walked a porter with a heavy load on his back.

He was a very poor man who earned his living by carrying things from one end of the city to the other.

Today was very hot and his load was very heavy. He huffed and puffed as best he could but halfway through his long journey he had to stop and rest.

The porter slumped against the wall of a particularly grand house where the scent of aloe and jasmine wafted and the pavement was sprinkled with rose

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water. As he wiped his weary brow on his dirty clothes he could hear laughter and merriment coming from within. A little peek through the window filled him with awe and jealousy. A group of fine people in rich clothes were sharing a large meal without a care in the world, while he slaved away in the burning sun carrying this heavy load for a pitiful number of coins.

‘How unfair and cruel the world is,’ he cried, ‘when one is so rich and the other so poor! Curse the man who lives here, who enjoys a life of ease and plenty while I can’t even afford to feed my family!’

‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ said a voice.

The porter looked up in horror to see

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someone looking down at him through the window. He was a finely dressed older gentleman with a neatly trimmed white beard and was most likely the owner of this house.

The porter was afraid.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he grovelled. ‘I meant no offence. I merely lost my temper because I am so thirsty and tired.

Please forgive me.’

‘There is nothing to forgive,’ smiled the man. ‘Please, come inside and have some food and drink with us.’

The poor man shook his head.

‘Oh no, I couldn’t possibly. It wouldn’t be proper.’

‘I’m not really one to follow the rules,’ said the man. ‘My name is Sinbad and it would honour me greatly

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if you came into my home.’

The porter didn’t know what to say, and the next thing he knew Sinbad was coming out of his front door to steer him inside.

‘My load …’ the porter said nervously. ‘I must deliver it.’

I will ask two of my servants to do it for you,’ said Sinbad with a confident smile. ‘Today you are my guest.’

Inside, the other guests greeted the porter warmly despite how obviously shabby he was. Sinbad himself poured the porter a large drink, and then sat him to his right at the head of the table. Food was passed his way and, with a belly tight from so many years of hunger, the man fell upon the feast with nervous delight.

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Sinbad patted him on the shoulder.

‘My friend, I am glad that it was my house you rested by today, for I know it can seem unfair when you look at such good fortune and see your own hardships. But I want you to know that I have truly earned this position.

You see, I was once like you, without a penny to my name, but I sailed the seven seas and had adventures you wouldn’t believe, experiences you couldn’t imagine. And now I use the wealth I gathered to make the world a better place for all.’

‘I am very sorry to have judged you so harshly,’ the porter said humbly. ‘It was silly of me to assume something about someone I know nothing about.’

‘Would you like to get to know me?’

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asked Sinbad with a grin. ‘Would you like to hear of my adventures?’

A great cheer went up from around the table as the other guests agreed with the idea.

‘Yes, let’s hear them all,’ cried one of the guests, grabbing the wine bottle to share out in preparation.

‘Not again,’ moaned another guest, but he too poured himself a drink and settled back into his cushions.

And so these are the tales of the seven voyages of Sinbad the Sailor …

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The First Voyage The Curious Island

W

hen I was a young man my parents left me a sum of money.

Instead of saving the money and spending it wisely, however, I spent it all on fine living and frivolous things that soon disappeared. Quite soon I realised I had no money left at all, and no future prospects. I needed to find work, but in my foolish youth I had learned no skills. No one would give me a job.

In the end I had to sell what I had left – my house, my furniture, my fine clothes – and use the money to sail

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aboard a merchant’s ship with the intention of buying and selling my way into a new fortune. Oh, did I give the other merchants a good laugh when I swaggered across the deck with my distinctive red turban around my head, only to be violently seasick for the first few days, and then discover my freshly bought supplies had gone rotten, and that my herd of goats were all male and so wouldn’t breed or give milk!

I could have got angry and vengeful at my bad luck, but instead I decided to try harder. I listened to the advice of the other traders and watched how they worked until I finally began to make money instead of lose it. We had a jolly time then, sailing around the Persian Gulf, going from port to port,

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buying and selling, trading our goods.

I really began to love the open water and the fresh salt air.

The better we all did the further we dared to travel until one day, in uncharted waters, we came across a curious island. It seemed to be floating freely, a small oasis of tufty sea-grass and young palm trees. With the scent of adventure and the hope of fresh water some of the sailors and I went ashore. It was a curious place which seemed to rumble beneath our feet as we explored. We collected cocoa nuts and filled several barrels with drinking water from a pool at its centre. It was while here that we found out exactly what we had got ourselves into.

Suddenly a huge jet of water spurted

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out of the pool and shot into the air.

It rained down on us as we stared up in surprise. And then the island began to sink. The very ground was disappearing into the water.

Out at sea we looked at the ship where our friends were waving at us in panic.

‘That’s no island,’ they cried. ‘It’s a whale!’

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True enough, it seemed the island was no bit of land but an actual creature that we had disturbed with our feet and now was diving back into the depths of the ocean! We all scrambled for the row boat but every step got us wetter and wetter until there was no more solid ground. The island was gone, the trees uprooted and the sand dissipated.

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We swam for the little boat only to see the great tail of the beast, four men wide, rise up high out of the water and smash back down as it dived. It hit the row boat and splintered it into a dozen pieces. The resulting wave knocked us all about in the water and I had to grab an empty barrel just to stay afloat.

The current quickly pulled me away from my friends. Soon they were just a speck on the horizon and I felt sure my time had come as I struggled for a whole day and a whole night, alone on the open water. Luck was with me, however, as when I awoke from an exhausted sleep I found myself on dry land.

The sand here was coarse and unfamiliar, suggesting a strange land

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that I had never seen before. The surrounding cliffs were high and rugged, but by pulling myself up onto exposed tree roots I was able to climb out and escape the cove.

With no sign of the ship or my friends, I realised I must find help myself, and set off to find some people.

The rugged coastline quickly turned into a dry, dusty scrubland and I began to worry I had made a mistake. There were no people out here, and surely I would die long before I found anyone.

Then I spotted something in the distance. It moved and shook its head.

A horse! I was saved!

As I got nearer I saw the animal was saddled but seemed to be alone. Was it lost like me? And would I be able to

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get near enough to catch it? It would ease my journey greatly if I could, but it might quickly run away if I scared it.

I crept closer and closer, as slowly as I could, downwind so as not to scare the beautiful chestnut mare with my scent. I had to admit it was a very fine animal. No lowly peasant would own a horse like this.

I was very nearly there with the horse eyeing me suspiciously when a voice rang out.

‘Don’t you dare think about touching the king’s horse or I’ll cut off your hands!’

I froze with the distinct impression a blade had been placed in the small of my back.

‘I’m sorry,’ I cried out. ‘I thought the

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horse was lost. Honestly, I didn’t see you there.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t,’ said the man, putting his sword away. ‘Because I am a master of subterfuge.’

With the weapon sheathed I was able to turn around and see the old weathered man. He looked near death in age, but there was still an air of wilderness about him.

‘I may be old,’ he said, ‘but I still got it. I can hide and track and sneak up on a blundering youth in a bright red turban without any trouble at all. I used to be in the king’s guard you see,’ he said proudly, ‘but after retirement I became a palace groom.’

‘Forgive me,’ I said. ‘But which king is that? I have landed here after an

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accident at sea and know not where I am.’

‘That’ll be the great King Mihrage,’ he said. ‘You are lucky I found you.

There’s nothing here for miles. We’re only a small island though and I dare say the old king will be glad to hear your tale. Come, I will take you to him.’

The island was small indeed, and King Mihrage’s palace unimpressive compared to what I had seen before in other great kingdoms, but of course I was grateful for a roof over my head. I was brought before the grey-haired old sovereign as he sat on his throne.

‘Welcome, stranger,’ he said. ‘Pray, tell us who you are and how you came by our island.’

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‘Greetings, great King. My name is Sinbad and I have come from a place far, far away …’

I have a knack for good storytelling, as you can tell, and so I wove him a marvellous tale of my travels and misadventures with merchants and whales. It pleased him greatly and I was rewarded with warm hospitality.

The island was a fascinating place. So many people from so many different places stopped their boats here for fresh water and supplies. There was always something new to see, someone interesting to meet. I spent the days making myself useful, and grew from a youthful lad into a capable young man. I lost my childish form and grew fit and strong with a handsome beard

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– even if I do say so myself – which explains what happened next.

One day, while wandering the harbour and assessing the new arrivals, I saw some boxes being unloaded.

In surprise I realised they carried my name, and stopped to examine them further. I recognised at once the captain of the vessel, who saw my interest and was coming over.

‘Hello there,’ he said. ‘These boxes contain beautifully woven

The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor

rugs from Persia. Would you care to take a look?’

This was the very captain and the very ship I had left home with, but I was amused to find he did not recognise me.

‘And how did you come about these boxes?’ I asked with mischievous glee.

‘It is a very sad story,’ said the captain. ‘We had a young merchant travelling with us, much liked by the crew, but he met with a tragic accident and died. We plan to sell his stock and return any money to his family back home.

I wasn’t sure how much of the money would have actually travelled back home but that didn’t matter any more.

How lucky I was to receive back my

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goods! I could sell them here and make enough money to return home – maybe even on this ship!

‘You no longer need to worry about that,’ I declared joyfully. ‘For I am Sinbad and these are my boxes!’

I smiled at the captain with my arms open wide, expecting great celebration, but instead I was met by hostility and then aggression. Then the captain drew his sword!

‘Liar!’ he cried. ‘I saw young Sinbad perish with my own eyes and yet here you stand claiming to be he! How dare you say such things in order to steal his wares! I should gut you like the conniving fish you are!’

I stared at the captain in shock. Had I really changed so much that he could

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no longer recognise me? The harbour guards came over to investigate the commotion and members of the ship’s crew came to support their captain.

‘But it’s true!’ I said. ‘I’m no liar. I am Sinbad the merchant!’

The guards nodded that Sinbad was indeed my real name and then one of the crew I had known quite well stepped forward and covered my lower face with his hand to hide my new and manly beard.

‘It is him!’ the man cried. ‘Our Sinbad has returned! He even still has his red turban!’

The captain lowered his sword and I was finally able to breathe again.

‘You lucky old dog!’ he laughed loudly. ‘I nearly ran you through!’

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We embraced and all was forgiven.

King Mihrage was even more delighted by this addition to my miraculous tale and bought many of my Persian rugs. They were not worth much back home, but here no one had seen such fine carpets and they became much in demand, so much so that I made ten times the amount of money I paid for them. Thus after buying my passage home on the ship I was still able to stock up on items that were cheap and plentiful here, such as nutmegs, cloves, pepper, ginger and sandalwood, but which were rare back home and would make me a very rich man indeed.

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‘Is that how you made your fortune then?’ asked the porter as he tucked into the feast at Sinbad’s table.

‘Actually that was just the beginning,’ Sinbad said. ‘For you see, even though I was able to buy a big house when I returned to Baghdad and employ several people to run it, I quickly grew bored. When you have sailed the world’s oceans and felt the wind on your face, it is hard to sit and do nothing in the stifling city.’

‘So you went travelling again?’ said the porter in surprise.

‘I did,’ smiled Sinbad.

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The Second Voyage The Valley of Gems

A

fter several months on land it was wonderful to be free at sea again.

I loved the excitement of exploring the different ports, picking what to buy and who to sell to. I quickly found being a merchant was more about the person you are than the goods you have to sell. While my fellow travellers had similar things to trade, it was I with my quick humour and manly beard that made the most money.

People liked me and I liked people.

Life was good, too good in fact.

I became cocky. Instead of helping

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my friends with their business I began to take sport in taking it from them. I was having so much fun that I only thought about myself, and my travelling companions began to dislike me for it.

One day the ship anchored at a small island to find fresh water, and while many of us disembarked to stretch our legs and pick fresh fruit, it was I in my haze of good fortune who took a bottle of wine and lay out in the hot sun until I was fast asleep. When I awoke it was nearly dark and very quiet. I jumped to my feet in alarm. The ship had set sail without me!

I ran up and down the beach in a pointless panic, waving my red turban and yelling for help. Surely my friends

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would notice me missing and come back? But as night turned into day and day into night, I realised that my own actions had led to this. The other merchants were not coming back for a greedy, arrogant, bounder; even if he did have an amazing beard.

I retied my red turban and hung my head in shame, knowing I had done this to myself.

With nothing else to do, I climbed to the top of a great tree. On all sides there was nothing but open water.

The island itself was very small and uninhabited as far as I could tell, although there was an interesting object on the far side: a white dome.

A small building perhaps? Back on the ground I fought my way through the

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thick plants and aimed for it.

When I got there I could see that it was not a dome after all but completely round like a ball. And not pure white either; rather it was slightly speckled with browns and marine greens. I reached out to touch the smooth, shiny surface and was surprised to find it felt vaguely warm.

I thought maybe there was a fire inside, but upon walking all the way around I could find no door.

It was then that a large shadow fell across me, blotting out the sun. At first I thought it was a cloud, but then came a rushing wind and the highpitched cry of a bird of prey. Instinct drove me to my knees, and just in time as a truly enormous bird came

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in to land. It was not too dissimilar to an eagle and was literally the size of a house! I know now that this animal is called a roc, and it is a very rare and special animal indeed; but right then I was a petrified young man about to be eaten by a monster and my first thought was to kill it in self-defence!

Then I suddenly realised – it was not hunting me, it was returning home! It started to root around the long grass and touch the large ball with affection.

Oh! I had been such a fool!

This was no hut. It was an egg!

The parent bird settled over the egg to keep it warm, and I was pretty much trapped underneath it too, although in all honesty it was one of the warmest, cosiest nights I ever

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spent away from home.

In the morning I lay awake stroking my manly beard and hatching a plan, if you pardon my pun. The bird didn’t seem to notice me as I must have been so insignificantly small to it, but maybe I could use this to my advantage.

I needed to leave the island and the roc could do that easily – I just needed to get myself on board somehow.

The giant bird awoke and began to make preparations to leave. Its scaled bird legs were as thick as tree trunks, and I suddenly had a mad idea that I might be able to tie myself to one of its limbs with my red turban! I wouldn’t say I wasn’t scared as I tackled the task

of tying myself to its leg, but the only other option was to stay on this barren island and slowly starve to death.

Miraculously the roc didn’t seem to mind. Maybe it really didn’t feel me,

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but my turban wasn’t the only thing in knots as suddenly with a great and powerful thrust I found myself in the air, the great white egg quickly becoming just a dot on the land below.

I can’t really explain the thrill of flying. It’s like two extreme opposites at the same time: sweet and sour, left and right, up and down …. The mortal fear of being so dangerously high and the sheer ecstatic pleasure of being so unbelievably free. Free of everything, even the ground!

And so I was both disappointed and delighted when we landed again. Until I saw the giant snake, that is!

This was what the roc was after and she jumped up and down in great bounds, flapping her wings in

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a frightful fit as she and the snake danced the battle of survival. I dared not untie myself while she was moving up and down so rapidly, and my senses got much rattled as I was flung this way and that, just a hair’s breadth away from the striking fangs of this enormous serpent.

Each creature gave as good as it got, and although I wished merely to be free of these terrifying beasts, I couldn’t help but hope that my roc won so that she might return to her egg; and also I didn’t want to become snake food myself!

Her talons were frighteningly sharp, like Damascus steel blades as they slashed down on the scaled skin of the snake, and her beak also. The snake

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was equipped with a fast-striking head filled with dagger-like fangs, but in the end my roc got her meal.

As she tucked into her hard-won breakfast, I gently untied myself and slipped away. I kept an eye on her as I tiptoed backwards, afraid she might see me yet and think me worth eating. I only turned to look at my surroundings when I reached a safe distance. It was then that I nearly fell to my death! Below me was a steep drop!

The rocks were sharp, jagged and dark grey: barren of life, it seemed, and rising up on all sides, way into the sky, leaving me in a vast valley.

My heart sank. Trapped. I had just swapped one fatal prison for another!

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There was no way I could climb out of here. Why hadn’t I stayed tied to my roc? I considered going back, but a rush of wind and temporary blotting out of the sun told me she had just left.

I kicked a stone in annoyance and watched it land in a gravelly wasteland. When was I going to learn to stop and think before doing things? Then I noticed something. The stone I had just kicked wasn’t a dull grey rock but rather a coloured nugget, and it had landed in a vast pile of similar stones that sat

at the bottom of this valley like a lake of shiny beads.

Looking around my feet I saw even the floor here was littered with these colourful rocks. I picked up a red one and inspected it. I couldn’t believe it. It was actually a ruby! And there was a blue sapphire. There a green emerald. And a crystalclear diamond! All raw and un-cut of course but big and precious nonetheless! I laughed, delighted.

What unbelievable fortune! I was rich beyond my wildest dreams!

The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor

Then I remembered where I was and laughed some more, because I was the richest man in the world and yet it was all useless! It was manic laughter. Nevertheless I decided to fill my pockets, and my shoes, and my turban; because quite frankly there was nothing else to do and I was sure to die a slow, agonising death here so I might as well be happy while I could.

I danced and ‘swam’ in the jewelled lake and generally lost myself to a kind of madness – but then I had been through quite a lot recently.

My noisy presence did not go unnoticed however. Foolishly I had forgotten what else was here beside the gemstones, and as the sun began to set I became aware of movement

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in the lake. In the corner of my eye I would see a shifting of the stones, but when I looked it was all still again. I lost my giddy madness and humbly headed for the shore. But I never made it.

The dwindling light was bringing out the rocs’ prey: the giant snakes! The great slithering beasts were closing in on me! Nervous at first maybe, but now there were more than one coming my way. I had no weapon, no sword or even a stick. I was clearly doomed.

With a sort of resignation I prepared to meet my end, hoping my final thought would be of flying through the endless sky, free as a bird.

And then something hit me on the back of the head!

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It felt cold and wet. Instinctively I grabbed it and flung it away. Two snakes burst out of the gemstone lake and battled for it. They fought fiercely, wrapping their great coils around each other, until one finally succeeded in swallowing the big pink thing. To my right another pink thing landed with a FLOP and two more snakes lunged for it. More came raining down and I finally realised what it was: meat!

Someone was feeding them great slabs of meat! I looked up and, very, very faintly, could see a figure at the top of the steep valley walls. Not only that, but way up in the sky I could see circling birds. Big birds. Very big birds.

Now diving this way!

Quickly I scrambled for the side.

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Someone was purposely throwing food into the valley so that the snakes would come out to feed, and this was attracting the rocs to come and hunt them. Whatever the person was up to, this could be my only chance of escape!

Despite my brave plan I cowered in fear as the first roc hit; there was an explosion of precious stones as it snatched up a snake and flew off again. But I knew I had to act fast.

There would be no chance to securely tie myself with the turban this time.

I just had to pick a bird, run out, and grab onto its leg before it took off. The meat supply was running low: I had to go now!

Within seconds a great, beautiful

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roc slammed into the ground beside me. I leaped forward, slipping on the avalanche of moving gems, but somehow managed to grab its leg.

My arms not reaching fully around its great girth, I had to grip with my fingers and thighs. I’m sorry to say I closed my eyes as we lifted off the ground. What I wouldn’t give to have that image in my mind now, of the valley of gemstones filled with snakes falling away beneath me.

I did open my eyes as we steadied into a graceful flight, even as my muscles burned with the strength needed to cling on. Luckily we landed quickly on a nearby rock ledge and the roc started to tear into its meal.

I fell away, exhausted. In truth I had

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reached a kind of numbness. Nothing could surprise me now. I sat in quiet contemplation while the roc finished its snake. It cleaned its feathers and relieved itself of a great big pellet of snake bones and skin before giving a powerful leap and disappearing into the heavens, leaving me alone. Or so I thought.

Not long afterwards a wily little man came scurrying over to the pellet the roc had left behind. He slashed at it with knives until he found something of interest.

‘Aha,’ I said out loud. ‘Now I understand.’

The wily man turned to look at me in surprise and panic.

‘Where have you come from?’ he said.

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‘I was trapped in the valley. I had to hitch a ride out on a roc.’

The man looked impressed but still wary. I smiled at him to show I was no threat.

‘What you are doing is very clever,’ I said. ‘You cannot get into the valley any more than I could get out of it, so you feed the snakes meat which draws them out, where the roc’s can easily catch them. You then watch and wait until the rocs have finished their meal and come looking for …’

The wily man held up a ruby. ‘Yes, the precious stones,’ he said. ‘The snakes always end up eating a few which sit in their stomachs and then pass straight through the birds. But don’t go thinking you can just take them from

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me!’ he added, groping ineffectively for his sword.

‘Do not worry, friend,’ I said. ‘I care not for your treasure, for in my pockets I have my own. But of more value to me is your help, for if it weren’t for you I would still be down there. And now all I want to do is go home.’

The old man thought for a moment.

‘I am not as young as I once was and can only carry so much. If you will help me gather more gems and carry them down the mountain for me, I will help you get home.’

I stood up and nodded gratefully. The wily old man saw for the first time my athletic body.

‘Ha!’ he cried. ‘You look like you

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could carry all of the gems and me!’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘It’s the beard, right?’

True to his word, after I had helped the old man with his work he took me to a harbour where I could find safe passage on a ship home. Not many ships travelled as far as I needed to go, but by pure chance a ship was sailing that day and I presented myself to the captain.

‘Dear Captain,’ I said, bowing my head. ‘I have been lost at sea and am in need of passage back to Baghdad.

I have here a handful of rough diamonds and other gems. Will you permit me to travel with you?’

But the captain replied, ‘Sadly I have more souls on board than I can manage already. Truly I cannot take

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you as well, even for such a price.’ Before, in my youth, I would have cursed that honourable captain for sending me away, but I knew better now. Truly wealth is not the answer.

With my pockets full of gems I had more riches than any man on the island, but it could not get me home.

Just like in the valley when I was surrounded by more treasure than any sultan ever owned, it still could not save me. Only a passing stranger’s kindness could do that. So instead of cursing my bad luck I used my time wisely.

I studied the local trade of camphor.

This is a special waxy substance that is burned in religious ceremonies and also used as a medicine. I learned

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that it comes from a giant, evergreen tree so big that a hundred men can easily sit in its shade. The sap of the camphor tree is collected from small cuts in the bark and runs freely into collecting pots. It is highly prized where I come from but you can literally pour it out of the trees here.

I also learned about a mysterious animal called a rhinoceros! This creature is like a mix of an elephant and a water buffalo but with armour all along its body and a single horn upon its nose. I thought with my merchant’s eye that maybe I could trade them with soldiers as a stronger alternative to battle horses, but the locals just laughed at me. ‘The rhino is a peaceful animal,’ they

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The Second Voyage - The Valley of Gems

said. ‘He’d sooner stand and chew the grass.’

‘He ought to be careful then,’ I said, ‘or man will come and take advantage of him.’

Eventually, after many moons, another boat did arrive to take me home, but I was very glad that I had stayed after all as I had learned so much about another part of our amazing world.

With me I still had many of the gemstones from the valley, but truly I felt much richer for the experiences I had had. So much so that when I returned to Baghdad I decided to fund a new school so that more children may have the opportunity to learn about the world.

57

The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor

‘You are truly a great man,’ said the porter. ‘My own children are able to go to school here in the city for free because of you. Now they will grow up and be cleverer than their old man who can only get work as a mere porter.’

‘We are each of equal value,’ said Sinbad. ‘Whether we are kings or beggars, it is not our wealth that makes us great but our greatness that makes us wealthy. And anyone can be great.’

‘Your experiences made you wise,’ said the porter.

‘They did, but they did not cure my restlessness,’ said Sinbad. And while it was fun to plan the new school, I had no stomach for the long

58

The Second Voyage - The Valley of Gems

process of maintaining it, so I left some very capable people in charge and looked elsewhere for adventures and more experiences.’

‘You didn’t go travelling again, did you?’ said the porter.

‘I did,’ smiled Sinbad.

59

The Arabian Nights tales are some of the most enduringly entertaining stories ever written.

Compiled in Arabic during the Islamic Golden Age, numerous tales depict legends, sorcery and magic intermingled with real people, places and events. Some tales are framed within other tales while others are perfectly self-contained. The result is a superb collection of richly layered narratives; whether adventure, historical, tragic, comic or romantic, they have delighted audiences for centuries.

Arabian Nights Adventures is a wonderful collection of children’s books that brings this rich heritage to life. Instead of a vast compendium of stories, each book in the series is devoted to a single tale from The Nights. The best tales have been selected. There are traditional favourites such as Aladdin and his Wonderful Lamp, Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves and The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor, and less well-known gems such as Gulnare of the Sea, The Enchanted Horse, The Merchant and the Jinni and more.

Kelley Townley provides masterful contemporary renderings of these ancient treasures while Anja Gram’s illustrations are full of the spice, wit and magic of the stories themselves. The series style is

fresh and vibrant and the print inside is clear and beautifully typeset. When placed on bookshelves the distinctive spines reveal a wonderful image that grows as new stories are added: a design made specially for one thousand and one nights’ tales!

And with the highest of editorial standards and attention to detail, this series will delight readers everywhere and bring the Islamic Golden Age gloriously to life.

Kelley Townley trained as a teacher and gained her MA in creative writing with distinction from Bath Spa University. She may be found either writing children’s stories – happily losing herself in the dream world of the human imagination – or plotting new ways to engage readers, which are the same things really. Kelley lives near Bath with her family, the writer’s obligatory cats and an ever growing number of woodlice.

Anja Gram has illustrated numerous children’s books and magazines. Her highly distinctive style captivates and endears readers around the world.

She lives and works in Copenhagen, Denmark.

1

The Adventures of Prince Camar and Princess Badoura

2

Aladdin and his Wonderful Lamp ISBN 978-1-911030-01-0

3

Gulnare of the Sea

ISBN 978-1-911030-02-7

4

Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves

ISBN 978-1-911030-03-4

5

The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor

ISBN 978-1-911030-04-1

6

The Enchanted Horse

ISBN 978-1-911030-05-8

7

The Talking Bird, the Singing Tree ISBN 978-1-911030-06-5 and the Golden Water

8

The Merchant and the Jinni

ISBN 978-1-911030-07-2

9

The Tale of Zubaidah and the Three Qalandars

ISBN 978-1-911030-08-9

Adventures of Harun 10 The al-Rashid, Caliph of Baghdad

ISBN 978-1-911030-09-6

Three Princes, the Princess 11 The and the Jinni Pari Banou

ISBN 978-1-911030-10-2

12 The Fisherman and the Jinni

ISBN 978-1-911030-11-9

13 The King’s Jester

ISBN 978-1-911030-12-6

ISBN 978-1-911030-00-3

The complete Arabian Nights Adventures series and individual titles are available from leading bookstores or may be ordered direct from the publisher: Harpendore Publishing Limited 34 Priory Road, Richmond TW9 3DF, United Kingdom Telephone: +44 (0)20 3667 3600 Email: enquiries@harpendore.co.uk Website: www.harpendore.co.uk TO ORDER: Please quote title, author and ISBN, your full name and the address where the order is to be sent. Contact us for the latest prices (including postage and packing) and availability information.

Cheques and postal orders should be made payable to: ‘Harpendore Publishing Limited’ All our titles may also be purchased online via our website at www.harpendore.co.uk For a complete list of titles and the latest catalogue visit www.harpendore.co.uk

As a young man Sinbad foolishly squanders all his money. With no skills and no prospect of a job, he joins a merchant vessel and sets sail from Baghdad, to trade and seek his fortune in the world. But Sinbad soon discovers he has a taste for adventure and a love for the open water, and before long he has embarked upon seven incredible voyages – seven adventures full of terrifying monsters, enchanted islands, spectacular deeds and unimaginable treasures.

So hop aboard with Sinbad and be swept away by tales of peril, heroism, shipwreck and survival. This has to be one of the greatest adventure stories of all time.

Look out for more Arabian Nights Adventures www.harpendore.co.uk

ISBN 978-1-911030-04-1

HARPENDORE

9 781911

030041