“What is your need?” asked the Egyptian quietly.
“I need a great wave that shall whelm away the foreign ship that follows us. A month ago it lay in wait for us, by the pillars of the gods, and it follows, follows, to find out the secret of Tyre—the place of the Tin Islands. If I could steer by night I could escape them yet, but tonight there will be no stars.”
“My magic will not serve you here,” said the Egyptian.
But Robert said, “My magic will not bring up great waves, but I can show you how to steer without stars.”
He took out the shilling compass, still, fortunately, in working order, that he had bought off another boy at school for fivepence, a piece of indiarubber, a strip of whalebone, and half a stick of red sealing-wax.
And he showed Pheles how it worked. And Pheles wondered at the compass’s magic truth.
“I will give it to you,” Robert said, “in return for that charm about your neck.”
Pheles made no answer. He first laughed, snatched the compass from Robert’s hand, and turned away still laughing.
“Be comforted,” the Priest whispered, “our time will come.”
The dusk deepened, and Pheles, crouched beside a dim lantern, steered by the shilling compass from the Crystal Palace.