* * * * * * *
The Bozra, it has been said, headed not south but eastward. Hasdrubal’s commission was to fetch Samos, where the still formidable fleet of the Barbarian lay, and to put the precious packet from Democrates in the hands of Tigranes, Xerxes’s commander-in-chief on the coast of Asia Minor. But although speed had been enjoined, the voyage did not go prosperously. Off Belbina the wind deserted them altogether, and Hasdrubal had been compelled to force his craft along by sweeps,—ponderous oars, worked by three men,—but his progress at best was slow. Off Cythnos the breeze had again arisen, but it was the Eurus from the southeast, worse than useless; the Bozra had been obliged to ride at anchor off the island for two days. Then another calm; and at last, “because,” said Hasdrubal piously, “he had vowed two black lambs to the Wind God,” the breeze came clear and cool from the north, which, if not wholly favourable, enabled the merchantman to plough onward. It was the fifth day, finally, after quitting Trœzene, that the headlands of Naxos came in sight at dawn, and the master began to take comfort. The fleet of the Greeks—a fisherboat had told him—was swinging inactive at Delos well to the north and westward, and he could fairly consider himself in waters dominated by the king.
“A fortunate voyage,” the master was boasting to Hiram, as he sat at breakfast in the stern-cabin above a platter of boiled dolphin; “two talents from the Persians for acting as their messenger; a thousand drachmæ profit on the corn; a hundred from Master Democrates in return for our little service, not to mention the profit on the return cargo, and last but not least the three slaves.”
“Yes, the three slaves. I had almost forgotten about them.”
“You see, my dear Hiram,” quoth the master, betwixt two unwontedly huge mouthfuls, “you see what folly it was of you to suggest putting out that handsome fellow’s eyes. I am strongly thinking of selling him not to Carthage, but to Babylon. I know a trader at Ephesus who makes a specialty of handsome youths. The satrap Artabozares has commissioned him to find as many good-looking out-runners as possible. Also for his harem—if this Glaucon were only a eunuch—”
Hiram, breaking a large disk of bread, was smiling very suggestively before making reply, when a sailor shouted at the hatch:—
“Ships, master! Ships with oars!”
“In what quarter?” Hasdrubal sprang up, letting the dishes clatter.
“From Myconus. They come up fast. Hib at the masthead counts eleven triremes.”
“Baal preserve us!” The master at once clambered on deck. “The Greek fleet may be quitting Delos. We must pray for wind.”