CHAPTER VIII
AT SEA
It was not for long, however, that Charidemus was destined to enjoy these somewhat lonely days, and evenings that seemed only too short. About a week after the day on which he made his first acquaintance with Memnon and his wife, he was roused from his sleep about an hour before dawn by a visit from the governor himself.
“Dress yourself at once,” said Memnon, “I will wait for you.”
“We can hold the place no longer,” the governor explained to his prisoner, as they hurried down the steep path that led from the citadel to the harbour. “I am leaving a garrison in the citadels, but the town is lost. Luckily for me, though not, perhaps, for you, I have still command of the sea.”
The harbour was soon reached. Memnon’s ship was waiting for him, and put off the moment the gangway was withdrawn; the rest of the squadron had already gained the open sea.
“You must make yourself as comfortable as you can on deck; the ladies have the cabin. Happily the night is fine, and our voyages hereabouts are not very long. The Ægean is the very Elysium of fair-weather sailors.”
Charidemus rolled himself up in the cloak with which, at Memnon’s bidding, a sailor had furnished him, and slept soundly, under one of the bulwarks, till he was awakened by the increasing heat of the sun. When he had performed as much of a toilet as the means at his disposal would permit, he was joined by Memnon, and conducted to the after-deck, where the breakfast table had been spread under an awning of canvas.
Presently the ladies appeared. Barsiné was one of them; the other was a very beautiful girl, who may have numbered thirteen or fourteen summers. “My niece, Clearista,” said Memnon, “daughter,” he added in a whisper, “of my brother Mentor;” and then aloud, “The most troublesome charge that a poor uncle was ever plagued with.” The damsel shook her chestnut locks at him, and turned away with a pout, which was about as sincere as her uncle’s complaint. The next moment a lad of ten, who had been trailing a baited hook over the stern, made his appearance. This was Memnon’s son, another Mentor. His tutor, the Nicon, whose acquaintance we have already made, followed him, and the party was now complete.
It was Clearista’s first voyage, and her wonder and delight were beyond expression. The sea, calm as a mirror, and blue as a sapphire, under a cloudless sky; the rhythmic dash of the oars as they rose and fell in time to the monotonous music of the fugleman standing high upon the stern; the skimming flight of the sea-birds as they followed the galley in the hope of some morsels of food; the gambols of a shoal of dolphins, playing about so near that it seemed as if they must be struck by the oars or even run down by the prow—these, and all the sights and sounds of the voyage fairly overpowered her with pleasure. Everything about her seemed to breathe of freedom; and she had scarcely ever been outside the door of the women’s apartments, or, at most, the walks of a garden. Who can wonder at her ecstasy? Memnon and Barsiné looked on with indulgent smiles. Young Mentor, who had seen a good deal more of the world than had his cousin, felt slightly superior. As for Charidemus he lost his heart on the spot. Child as she was—and she was young for her years—Clearista seemed to him the most beautiful creature that he had ever beheld.