Long ago, on the Spanish island of Majorca, a young boy spent most of each day at the shore, sketching the ships that sailed into the harbor. Shlomo was a wonderful artist, everyone agreed. His drawings seemed so real that people wondered if the waves in his pictures were as wet as they seemed—or the sun as hot.

His father was a great rabbi who really preferred Shlomo to spend his time studying, but Shlomo would always slip away to the shore.

A few days before Rosh haShanah, a ship arrived from the city of Barcelona. Shlomo overheard one of the sailors talking to a local merchant.

“There’s news from Spain that will make every Jew on this island tremble.”

“What is it?” asked the merchant.

“The king and queen have decreed that all the Jewish people in the land must give up their religion and become Christian.”

“And if they refuse?”

“Then they must leave at once,” said the sailor.

“But what if they want to stay?”

“Then they lose their lives.”

Shlomo was frightened. He didn’t want to leave his beautiful island. He ran home to tell the news to his father, Rabbi Shimon ben Tsemach Duran.

“Must we leave, Father?” asked Shlomo.

“I cannot leave, my son,” said his father. “The Jewish community looks to me for guidance. I must stay until they all escape. But you should go, and I will join you later in Algiers.”

“I won’t leave you,” said Shlomo. “You are all I have since Mother died. Surely G-d will protect us.”

Rabbi Shimon hugged his brave son. “Then let us work together and spread the word that everyone must meet in the synagogue.” They hurried through the village, knocking at the doors of every Jewish home and shop.

When everyone had gathered at the house of prayer, Rabbi Shimon told them about the terrible decree.

“Save us!” they cried out in fear.

They hoped their beloved rabbi would work a miracle. For they knew his prayers had once turned back a plague of locusts. Another time, when crops were withering in the fields, his prayers had brought rain.

“You have only three choices,” Rabbi Shimon told the men. “You can es¬cape by sailing to Algiers. You can stay and pretend to convert, but secretly remain a Jew. Or you can defy the king and queen. As for me, I would rather go to my grave than say I am giving up my religion.” Shlomo realized how strong his father was and how he strengthened and comforted his people.

In the days that followed, most of the Jewish people crowded onto ships, taking very little with them. They saw to it that the women and children took the first available ships. Some Jewish people stayed and pretended to convert, in order to save their lives. They were known as Conversos, but in secret they contin¬ued to follow their Jewish ways.

Only a handful of people in the Jewish community openly refused to convert. Among them were Shlomo’s father and Shlomo himself. They planned to leave together, once they were certain that all those who wanted to escape had done so.

By then it was the start of Rosh haShanah. Rabbi Shimon and Shlomo and those few who dared enter the synagogue prayed with great intensity, in hope that their names would be written in the Book of Life. For on Rosh haShanah that decision is said to be made on high. Surely G-d would hear their prayers and guard over them.

All went well the first day, but on the second day of Rosh haShanah, just after the sounding of the shofar, soldiers rushed into the synagogue and dragged them all away. They were cast into a prison cell, where Rabbi Shimon continued to lead the prayers by heart. Shlomo would have been terrified if he hadn’t seen how calm his father remained.

None of them slept that night. Even though Rosh haShanah had ended, they stayed awake, praying. The cell was very dark, with only one high window. But at dawn it let a little sunlight in. When Rabbi Shimon saw it, he said, “Have faith, my brothers. For just as there is a bit of light, so there is hope, and I feel that G-d has heard our prayers and will protect us.”

The guard overheard them and laughed. “You think you have hope. You have just three days to live. Then you die. Let’s see what your G-d does for you then.”

Rabbi Shimon saw how frightened they were. So he turned to Shlomo and said, “Won’t you help us pass the time? Why don’t you draw one of those ships you do so well?”

Shlomo couldn’t believe his ears. His father was asking him to draw? Shlomo felt in his pocket and pulled out his last piece of chalk. When he looked up, he thought he saw a hint of a smile on his father’s face.

Shlomo remembered all the ships he had watched from the shore, and he began to draw the one he thought was the most beautiful on the sunlit wall. The wind he drew filled the great sails, and he added barrels of wine and bushels of wheat.

Shlomo’s father and the other men watched him draw until the sun set and the prison cell was enveloped in darkness. Then they began to pray to G-d to save them. Once again, they prayed all night.

The next day, Shlomo continued to work on his drawing. Little by little he finished every detail of the ship, and then he drew the sea around it. The waves looked as if they might spill right off the wall and splash onto the floor.

The picture seemed finished, but Shlomo didn’t want to stop. His father suggested that he draw the two of them, there on the deck. This Shlomo did, and all the men marveled at the fine resemblances. Then the second day in prison ended, and again they prayed throughout the night.

When the sun rose on the third day, one of the men asked Shlomo to draw him on the ship, too. “For I would like to be with you.” And one by one, the others made the same request. But when darkness fell, Shlomo had not finished drawing the last man.

That night they prayed to G-d with all their hearts, for they knew the execution was set for sunrise the next day. All of the men shook with fear, except for Rabbi Shimon. Shlomo took strength from his father, and he, too, remained unafraid.

As soon as the first light of dawn came through the window, Shlomo took out his chalk and quickly finished drawing the last man.

Just as he drew the final line, he heard keys jangling. The soldiers were coming to unlock the door to their cell. Then Shlomo and all the men would be taken to the courtyard for their execution.

Shlomo turned to his father and saw that he was deep in prayer. And, at that very moment, he heard his father pronounce G-d’s secret name out loud.

Suddenly Shlomo could not hear the guards in the hallway, and when he looked down, he saw that he was standing on the deck of the beautiful ship he had drawn on the prison wall.

His father and all the other men in the picture were with him, safely aboard a real ship floating on a real sea. The sails strained against the wind, just as they had in Shlomo’s drawing, and the ship sped away from danger.

All the Jewish people from the prison cell rejoiced with Shlomo and his father—for they knew they were aboard a ship of miracles, on their way to freedom. They would never forget that Rosh haShanah when G-d had seen fit to save them.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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