with a vast
store of jewels, precious stones and other treasures. And know you, O
most favored son of Mar Shalmon, this cargo is but a small portion of
the wealth that is thine in a land across the sea."

"'Tis strange," said Bar Shalmon, in surprise; "my father said nought
of this to me. I knew that in his younger days he had traded with
distant lands, but nothing did he ever say of possessions there. And,
moreover, he warned me never to leave this shore."

The captain looked perplexed.

"I understand it not," he said. "I am but performing my father's
bidding. He was thy father's servant, and long years did he wait for
Mar Shalmon's return to claim his riches. On his death-bed he bade me
vow that I would seek his master, or his son, and this have I done."

He produced documents, and there could be no doubt that the vast
wealth mentioned in them belonged now to Bar Shalmon.

"Thou art now my master," said the captain, "and must return with me
to the land across the sea to claim thine inheritance. In another year
it will be too late, for by the laws of the country it will be
forfeit."

"I cannot return with thee," said Bar Shalmon. "I have a vow before
heaven never to voyage on the sea."

The captain laughed.

"In very truth, I understand thee not, as my father understood not
thine," he replied. "My father was wont to say that Mar Shalmon was
strange and peradventure not possessed of all his senses to neglect
his store of wealth and treasure."

With an angry gesture Bar Shalmon stopped the captain, but he was
sorely troubled. He recalled now that his father had often spoken
mysteriously of foreign lands, and he wondered, indeed, whether Mar
Shalmon could have been in his proper senses not to have breathed a
word of his riches abroad. For days he discussed the matter with the
captain, who at last persuaded him to make the journey.

"Fear not thy vow," said the captain. "Thy worthy father must, of a
truth, have been bereft of reason in failing to tell thee of his full
estate, and an oath to a man of mind unsound is not binding. That is
the law in our land."

"So it is here," returned Bar Shalmon, and with this remark his last
scruple vanished.

He bade a tender farewell to his wife, his child, and his friends,
and set sail on the strange ship to the land beyond the sea.

For three days all went well, but on the fourth the ship was becalmed
and the sails flapped lazily against the masts. The sailors had
no