Bar Noemi was the first to discover how to sail from the Red Sea to Carthage without being obliged to transport one's wares on camels from one coast to the other, thus avoiding the grievous, exorbitant tolls imposed by the Egyptians upon the Phnician merchants. None of the older mariners had found out the secret. The Cape of Good Hope was still an unknown point to the trading world, and men shrank back in terror from the hostile winds and tempests which environed it.
At Carthage, Bar Noemi had learnt to know the daughter of a merchant, one of those Punic beauties whom the Roman ladies loved so much to imitate. The fairest of complexions was made still more fair by wonderful saffron locks; the large blue eyes had long black lashes; the jet eyebrows were arched and bushy; the lips a deep purple, and the skin as soft as velvet, and as white as alabaster.
After the first Punic war, the Roman ladies, in order to win back their husbands and lovers from these fascinating foreign belles, did all in their power to make their own charms correspond with the charms of the Carthaginian beauties. They coloured their locks with saffron, tied raw flesh to their skins at night, and heightened the colour of their lips with red salve. But Nature had given all these things gratis to the Carthaginian beauties. Art could not supply those long golden locks from which they manufactured bow-strings in the hour of their country's mortal agony; or those voluptuous supple limbs which bled beneath the weapons of Rome in the last evil hour of Carthage.
Byssenia, Bar Noemi's bride, was one of these beauties. Her father was satisfied with the marriage gift which Bar Noemi brought his daughter; merchants always regard it as a great point to have the question of dower settled before the conclusion of the match.
And Bar Noemi was much more than a mere rich man. He was a handsome man, and valiant and haughty to boot, a man who never humbly bowed his head, and thought it a shame to cast down his eyes before any one. He was wont to say that no one had a keener glance than the lightning, or a more terrible manner of speech than the raging sea, and these he had long ago learnt to defy.
His acquaintances and all the great men of the city assembled on his wedding-day at the house of the bride's father, while the Carthaginian damsels led the bride into the grove of Astarte, that she might bathe for the first time in the sacred spring whence she was to be led to the altar of the goddess, there to be united to the bridegroom. When, however, it came to the bridegroom's turn, according to Phnician custom, to offer to the gods of wood and stone the sacrifices which they demand from all men, Bar Noemi, to every one's astonishment, answered: "Our God is Jehovah," and refused to bring any offering to the idol.
The elders and high priests were much offended by these bold words, and conferred together in whispers as to what they should do with the audacious stranger.
First they led him into the halls of Astarte, whom the people adored in the shape of a beautiful woman in white marble. They showed him the mysteries of the ritual devoted to the Goddess of Love, the sweet, seductive secrets which confound the human soul, the sense-bereaving, voluptuous shapes which, under various names, have found worshippers in all ages down to the latest times.
Bar Noemi hastily turned away his eyes from the captivating sight, and stammered: "Jehovah is our God."
Shaking their heads, the elders and high priests proceeded further, and led Bar Noemi into the temple of the great and glistening god Dagon, resplendent with gold and silver, where the molten image of the God of Riches sits in a ship of mother-o'-pearl, laden with pearls and precious stones, and swimming in a basin of quicksilver instead of water. Then they represented to Bar Noemi that even if he would not bow before the magic of Love, he might well bend the knee before the terrible symbol of Riches, for the mighty Dagon grants wealth and dominion to them who honour him.
Bar Noemi looked contemptuously at the treasures lying at his feet, and answered boldly: "Our God is Jehovah."
The elders and high priests exchanged angry glances, and led him next to the temple of the war god Remphan, which rested on copper columns. The idol itself was of dark, molten bronze; at its feet lay heaps and heaps of broken weapons and armour, the trophies of battles won by the Carthaginians, as well as the prows of those ships which had been captured in naval victories.
"Since thou wilt bow down to neither Love nor Riches, at least do obeisance to the god in whose gift is Fame, the highest gift known to a true man."
But Bar Noemi gazed boldly into the hollow eyes of the molten idol, and cried defiantly: "There is but one God--Jehovah, the Almighty."
Last of all they brought him into the subterranean temple of Baal, the god of the strong hell, who has dominion over eternal fire, and distributes pains and torments both here and in the nether world. There they showed the stranger the red-hot body of the huge, shapeless idol which demanded a human victim every day, and they forced him to stay to see the sacrifice. Then they hurled a great, strong man into the idol's jaws, and the same instant a thick smoke gushed forth from Baal's eyes and nostrils, whilst the yells of the dying victim roared forth from the cavernous stomach like the laugh of a demon of hell, gradually growing fainter and fainter, as when a wild beast has satisfied his hunger, and settles quietly down to digest his food.
"Bar Noemi," cried the elders, "the gates of death are open before thee.
Speak!"
Full of unshakable faith, the young man raised his eyes towards the invisible bright blue sky, the one thing pure enough to be imagined the dwelling-place of the eternal God, and spake unmoved: "Jehovah alone is God, the Ruler of earth and of the starry heavens, the Lord of life and death. All else is but dust and ashes."
The idol roared forth the death-agonies of a second victim, while the officiating priests sought to drown the sickening shrieks with the din of kettledrums and cymbals. In the midst of this hellish spectacle, Bar Noemi folded his hands across his breast and prayed in silence. He had quite made up his mind to breathe his last in the belly of the idol.
Again the elders and high priests whispered together, then, with smiling countenances, they spoke thus to Bar Noemi--
"Thou hast remained steadfast in thy faith. Cleave thereto henceforward also, and never forswear thyself. Wed thee with thy betrothed after the manner of thy nation, and take her with thee to thy distant dwelling; live as long as thy God wills it."
Bar Noemi obeyed their words, and secretly blessed Jehovah, who helps His true servants to victory, and strengthens the hearts of those who praise His Name. So he was married in the sight of all the people to the beautiful Byssenia, gave to the father of the bride the marriage gift he had brought with him in exchange for her, himself taking charge of his wife's paraphernalia, settled various outstanding matters of business, and embarking in his ship with his gallant crew, sailed out of the bay amid the cheers of the people assembled in the harbour, and the blare of the trumpets and clarions. An escort of four warships accompanied him into the open sea. The decks of the splendid Carthaginian vessels were hung with painted carpets, their prows were adorned with far-projecting golden monsters, behind were the movable bridges used in battle to grapple the enemy, amidships the high tower, whence stones and other missiles were wont to be hurled.
When the ocean was reached and land was no longer visible anywhere, the Carthaginians suddenly let down their bridges upon the bridal ship and held it fast.
The elders spake yet again to Bar Noemi.
"Bar Noemi, son of a strange land, below thee is the waste of waters, above thee is the waste of sky, answer now, who is the God that can help thee in this wilderness?"
"Jehovah!" answered Bar Noemi.
"Then Jehovah stand thee by," said the elders; whereupon they stripped Bar Noemi's ship of sails, helm, and every instrument which enables the mariner to find or make his way on the ocean. Then they bade the bride return to her father at Carthage. But, clinging to her husband's breast, Byssenia said she would liefer remain in the stormy sea, and would not forsake in the hour of danger him to whom she had plighted her troth.
"Then may Jehovah help thee," answered the elders; and with that they quitted Bar Noemi's vessel, and, drawing back the bridges, left the bridal ship there in the open sea, without sails or helm, devoted to the tempest, abandoned to the waves.
CHAPTER III
DERELICT
On the becalmed ocean lies the forsaken ship, without sails, without helm, drawn to one side by its own weight, not a single black point of land, not a single white sail anywhere visible along the vast horizon.
And in the midst of this desolation stands Bar Noemi and his doomed crew. But Bar Noemi has said that even in this desolation dwells the Lord God, who rules over the heavens and the waters.
And behold! as he prays there with outstretched arms, a dove comes flying from the west on rapid wing, and alights upon the topmast. Never had man seen such a dove before. Her feathers were of green, merging here and there into pearly grey, the wide-extended tail was gold-coloured, and sewn with stars like the tail of a peacock, and her neck was striped with glowing purple.
Bar Noemi took some rice in the palm of his hand and held it in the air, and behold! to every one's astonishment, the wonderful bird flew from the masthead on to the mariner's hand, and began to peck up the grains of rice one by one, uttering each time the soft cooing note of the wild dove, whereupon she flew back to the masthead, and remained there till evening.
"A miracle!" cried the ship's company; but Bar Noemi said: "Ye now see that Jehovah has heard me, for He has sent His messenger from heaven as a sign that He will deliver us from this present distress. Let us, then, take our mantles, and whatever else can be spared from the ship, the garments of the women, the precious gold stuffs, the Phrygian velvets, and let us sew them together and make us a sail. A west wind is arising which will drive us upon some coast; there will we refit our ship and return to Tyre."
The ship's company obeyed and set to work. They made them a large sail of bright shreds and patches; they hoisted it up, not without sore labour; and scarcely had the sun sunk down and melted away in his own reflection at the extreme margin of the sky, when a light breeze arose in the east which at first but lightly curled the waves, but gradually made the whole sea heave and toss. The patched sail bulged out, the ship righted herself, stood firm amidst the waves, and began to glide along the watery mirror, and the ship's company, sinking on their knees, stammered: "Jehovah is our God."
All night long the wind blew in the same direction, and all night long Bar Noemi scrutinized the stars. The constellations with which he was so familiar, for he had diligently studied them during his long voyages, remained constant at the same height, in an unaltered arch, right above his head, a sign, he knew, that the ship was following a northerly course.
Three days and three nights the rudderless ship flew with a single sail over the surface of the ocean. On the fourth day there appeared very faintly on the distant horizon, like the forehead of some brown marine monster, the ridge of the world-supporting Atlas mountains, the rock of the unconquerable Gebel-al-Tarik, which we degenerate moderns call Gibraltar. This point was familiar to the mariners. They knew that the fortunate inhabitants of the golden apple-gardens of the Hesperides would certainly welcome them with joy, though it would have been more dangerous for the seafarers to have gazed into the eyes of the maidens of the Atlas mountains than to have listened to the songs of the Sirens or to have sailed between the coral-reefs of Scylla the accursed. The joys of this outermost African haven had torn more sailors from the rowing-benches than even famine or pestilence, the twin destroying angels of antiquity.
Shouting for joy, Bar Noemi's crew clambered up to the masthead, so as to better survey from thence the promised land, which drew nearer to them every moment. Already they began to make out the shadowy coastline; already they could distinguish the fresh green of the woods against the dark-blue mountain-side, the narrow strips of cornland, and the scarlet bloom of the almond woods on the shore below. Already they perceived the sky-blue enamel of the luxuriant sesame flowers in the meadows, and the inviting smoke-wreaths arising from the hospitable huts on the shore--when, suddenly, a small black cloud arose in the south-east, which, in a moment, darkened the sun and changed the complexion of the ocean. The waves took a murky, dark-green tinge, Atlas veiled himself in dusky grey, the shores became dark blue, and seemed to draw further and further away; and, all at once, as if fallen from the skies, the whole surface of the water was covered by those white birds with black wings whose vital element is the tempest, who live by the storm, and only come forth from their nooks and crannies as harbingers of evil to the mariner, circling round the ship with terrifying screams, as if only sent forth to bewail the crew.
Bar Noemi ordered the single sail to be furled, kissed first his lovely wife, and then his faithful comrades, one after the other, for whom there was no longer any hope of salvation save only in the mighty hand of the Lord, and, falling upon his knees, he began to sing the psalm: "In Thee, O Lord, do we put our trust," they all following his example.
The raging of the waves, the howling of the wind, grew ever louder, the song of the suppliants ever fainter; the awful crash of the thunder mingled with the concert of Death; the black clouds veiled the sun with an impenetrable veil, and only the lightning flashed out at intervals like a spectral torch. At every flash the black outlines of Atlas were visible like the terrible shape of a ghostly nightmare, and on the foaming crests of the lurid wave-mountains swept a tiny nutshell, a frail wooden pellet, the plaything of the storm, wherein some two hundred or so of that species of worm which calls itself Lord of the Universe were huddled together into a trembling, whining mass.
The fury of the storm kept steadily increasing, the sullen day became a yet more sullen night. Bar Noemi's crew saw the rocks of the Atlas range drawing nearer every moment, and they cursed Bar Noemi and the God to whom he prayed, without ceasing. Another instant and they will all be dashed to pieces.
Then the lightning flashes ceased, and long hours of gloom succeeded.
The storm tossed the ship about in its mad frolic; the minutes passed in mortal anguish, and when, after many hours, a fresh lightning flash lights up the whole horizon, the astonished mariners no longer see the Atlas mountains. They have been driven far out into the Atlantic ocean.
"Jehovah is our God alone."
The Lord has saved His faithful ones from a terrible death, yet He has cast them upon the immeasurable deep, and abandoned them to fresh dangers.
The night passed away, but the sky was still covered with wild, hurrying clouds which seemed to be fighting among themselves so that their blood flowed down in streams. And nowhere was the sun to be seen, and the horizon had vanished in drifting clouds and floating vapours--and so they fared for four days. The tempest is never weary.
The ship was already a wreck, the masts were broken to pieces, the glistening dragons on the prow, which had made such a brave show a few days before, had been swept away by the waves; everything superfluous had already been cast overboard, and yet it was as much as they could do to keep the ship from sinking.
As now the fourth day was already closing in storm and stress, the eldest of the mariners stepped up to Bar Noemi, took him aside, and said--