THE FOURTH EPISODE
How Ulysses lost his Merry Men and came A Waif to Calypso with the Shining Hair
The crew sat round a fire of driftwood.
There was shelter where they sat, in a natural alcove of rock, but outside the great winds thundered and the wrack flew before the storm and a mighty unceasing roar filled the air.
The faces of all the sailors wore a sullen look. Hunger had begun to suck the colour from their cheeks, their eyes were prominent and strained, their movements without energy or vigour.
A rude shelter of sailcloth and various débris that was scattered about seemed to show that for some time, at least, they had made their home in this place where the winds did not come.
Ulysses was not among them. They were talking in low, discontented tones among themselves.
“A whole month,” said Eurylochus, “a whole month have we been sea bound in this accursed island. I am sick of islands!”
“Never have we put to shore without some evil thing befalling,” said another. “Oh, for Ithaca!”
“I doubt we shall ever see Ithaca again,” said a third. “We will be wanderers till we die; that is what I think. And this place is like to be the grave of all of us. I never knew a wind so furious to blow so long. We should sink in an hour did we but put out.”