On and on they went, due east now, right through the Lykian on to the Pamphylian Sea, for many slowly-passing hours that seemed interminable.
Now they turned up northerly, past the point Hieron, past the small island of Kambrousa.
‘How much further to Phaselis now? A hundred stades?’
‘More than that.’
‘What is that rock, those two distant rocks? Are they not rocks jutting out from the sea, with a thin line on each side of them? If the Spartans shall have made the weary Tissaphernes leave Phaselis before we get there, and we are kept long in watering, they will be at Aspendos before us after all, and what of the Persian fleet then? Perhaps we may be yet in time to stop their leaving.’
The two high rocks grew higher out of the water, more distinct. An old sailor whom the general called up to his side knew them.
‘Yes, that is Phaselis.’
‘Can anyone see three triremes there?’
‘No, not yet. There are some specks about.’
Antiochos went aloft again.