Then Hellen called: “Captains, your queen—our dear Queen Atlana—lieth as one dead. The captain of her galley will lead us. In my galley is food enough for a few days, if shared with care. Moreover, there are islands near. And the Afrite Coast is not far.”
A faint cheering replied.
Hellen then spoke apart with his father. “Would we could get the queen, her ladies, Æole and Electra on my galley, for it is stronger, and holdeth the food. It might be tempted to leave us.”
“That is well thought of. But how to get them on board? The rowers cannot keep near enough, so fierce groweth the sea. I like not the crest of these waves.”
“It would be well to throw the ropes, to keep the galleys close. The sea may quiet a little; and then can they pass over.”
“Sensel, what thinkest thou?” inquired Deucalion.
“It can be done, should the sea calm a little. It would be well to throw the ropes, when the rowers have come as nigh as they can.”
“It is well.”
At the word, Hellen’s galley drew as near as it could for the tossing sea. Then, the ropes were thrown bringing them within unsteady touch, almost. Whilst thus engaged, Hellen remarked: “Father, the air seemeth more than full of rain. And yet none droppeth.”
“I, too, have wondered over it. But, where is Sensel?”