“It has the appearance of a huge sea-monster,” said Sejanus.
Slowly creeping up the cliffs was a strange object that had an uncanny look. Tiberius, affrighted, called a soldier to his side. As the singular object approached, it was seen to be the form of a man carrying a basket of fish. The fisherman was one-eyed. His bronzed head was bald; his unshaven face wrinkled and weather-beaten. His toothless mouth was sunken. His whole body was deformed by overwork. He deposited his basket upon the rocks and, moved by a feeling of loyal generosity, took from it the largest fish, which he awkwardly presented to the emperor.
Enraged that any one dared climb those slippery and dangerous rocks, Tiberius ordered the soldier to rub the fisherman’s face with the gift he had just presented. “Is there a spot on the island,” exclaimed the emperor, “where these things cannot approach?”
“Thou treatest the man too kindly, O Tiberius,” said Sejanus.
The fisherman smiled at such treatment, and said to the soldier in his crude Latin dialect, “I am glad that I did not give him the crawfish I carried with me.”
“What didst thou say?” growled the emperor.
“Nothing,” stammered the frightened fisherman.
“For his insolence, take the crawfish and lacerate his ugly face,” ordered Tiberius.
The cries of the poor fisherman were pitiable, as his face was rudely torn by the claws of the crawfish.
“Ah! henceforth the fishermen will avoid my presence,” added Tiberius, with an ugly leer.