Treasure of Ophir
When I was a small child [m]y imagination was fired by the age-old mystery of that Lost City of Ophir which furnished gold to the temple of Suleiman, and, as the years passed, I formed an ambition to discover it
In this fascinating book, the author reveals the unfolding story of his life-long quest to find Ophir. First joining the Royal Navy and then embarking toward China, the author begins a series of adventures that propel him toward his goal:
I had fifteen more years of search, and seven further years of arranging proofs, before I was able to assert that Ophir is no longer a lost city I have learnt that Ophir and the Gold of Ophir represent far more tan a lost city and a tale of romance. The lost lands of Ophir may awaken the whole of the Middle East; they may bring prosperity to a poverty-stricken peninsular that is larger than India.
Treasure of Ophir
by
C. E. V. Craufurd
First published in 2005 by
Kegan Paul International
This edition first published in 2011 by
Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN
Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada
by Routledge
711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
Kegan Paul, 2005
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 10: 0-7103-1012-9 (hbk)
ISBN 13: 978-0-7103-1012-5 (hbk)
Publishers Note
The publisher has gone to great lengths to ensure the quality of this reprint but points out that some imperfections in the original copies may be apparent. The publisher has made every effort to contact original copyright holders and would welcome correspondence from those they have been unable to trace.
I HAVE to thank many Arab friends for their hospitality and their kindly assistance to the stranger who dwelt in their lands.
My thanks are specially due to the late Seyidt Mahomedt bin Idrissi, Ruler of Assir, who showed me that Arab ideals are as fine and as steadfast as those of peoples better known to Europeans.
I give my respectful thanks to the Imam Mahmud Hameed ed Deen, Ruler of Yemen, for his hospitality and kindness to me during a prolonged stay in his lands.
I have to thank Raghed BeyMinister to the Imam of Yemenwhose learning, wit, and friendship helped me to pass many a month of enjoyment, while his explanations showed me many phases of the life of a little-known people.
Many Sheikhs, Seyidts, Sherriffs, Sultans and other Arab friends will, I feel sure, realize that I am unable to include all their names in this small notice. Any such attempt would do no justice to their continued kindness and hospitality. They have shown me the inner meaning to ancient histories which are often regarded as semi-mythical.
In their lands they have allowed me to enjoy the full privileges of care-free travel, whilst in their histories they have opened to me the story of Suleiman and Bilkis.
In spite of all the assistance of my Arab friends, I only succeeded in forming a collection of rough notes, and if these notes have now assumed book form, it is entirely due to my friend and collaborator, Clifford W. Collinson.
PART ONE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Commander C. E. V. Craufurd, R.N. (Retired)
MAPS
TREASURE OF OPHIR
CHAPTER I
AMBITION
W HEN I was a small child my favourite fairy tale held no Prince Charming or Sleeping Beauty, but I loved to read and read again the charming story of the mysterious Queen of Sheba and her kingly lover, Suleiman the Wise. My imagination was fired by the age-old mystery of that Lost City of Ophir which furnished gold to the Temple of Suleiman, and, as the years passed, I formed an ambition to discover it.
A child holds many ambitionsholds them awhile and drops them, for he is easily turned from his purpose by the obstacles of hard facts. But, nevertheless, most children hug to themselves some especially treasured and secret ambition, an ideal which they fear to expose to those dread grown-ups who may take it from them and break it in pieces, or, worse still, may laugh!
Often we underrate a childs intelligence. What he chooses to learn he learns thoroughly, though how he does it often passes our comprehension. In my own case I kept my secret well, and, for fear of the ridicule that might follow, told no one. When I was a lad I would now and then take out the Old Bookbut very secretively, for I dreaded the accusation of being pi.
I was an idle youngster, always at the bottom of my class; my school reports were invariably poor, and I was reckoned stupid beyond the average. My father assured me that my one objective in life was to become an Admiral, and with sound common sense he suggested that I should first aim to become a Commander. He fondly hoped that I might even have the good fortune to command one of H.M. ships in time of war.
We had a retired Admiral living next door, and my private opinion was that admirals were silly old fools, but a Commander seemed to be a very different person, and the idea of possibly directing a warship in action was an ambition well worth striving for. Besides that, it offered a practical path for me to follow for my own private ambition. I should travel the world over and I should find Ophir.
For me there was no perhaps about that Ophir problem. There never has been a perhaps, though in twenty or more years of search there may have been a few passing doubts. The ambition was there and so was the determination to accomplish it.
My father taught me to handle a boat almost as soon as I could walk, and one of my earliest memories is of a small family party in a little cutter-rigged yacht. We were running free with the wind slightly on the port quarter when disaster overtook us, in an inlet which I think is called Bosham Creek. My father was stooping over a rope which he was coiling down, and I was peering anxiously at the peak which was swaying too freely, for my mother, who was steering, was not gifted with that skill which is the mark of the perfect yachtswoman. Suddenly the boom jibed with a whole-hearted swing and caught my father bending. Overboard he went!
If I saw such an accident nowadays I should be convulsed with laughter and crippled in action, but I rushed to the tiller and put the helm down. It was, of course, the right thing to do, for it checked the way of the boat. Incidentally, we ran slap on to a mudbank, so I cannot suppose the situation was so critical as it then seemed. Still, I had my practical seamanship tested at an early age, and that youthful training was to help me through many a year.
I obtained a success in a competitive examination that I feel was more due to the genius of the head master of my naval crammer school than to my personal efforts, and at last the great day came when a very small boy, under-sized for his age, stood on the station platform waiting for the train to take him to Dartmouth, where H.M.S.
