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 _debris_ 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 sh.o.r.e 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."
"There is only food for one day more, and that spa.r.s.e," said Eurylochus. "For my part, my limbs are heavy as bra.s.s and the strength is all gone from me. I could not move an oar now. Man needs meat and wine or the fires of hunger burn the sinews and dry the blood. Brown meat and red wine! I could fill my belly till the skin cracked!"
"The rich brown meat, mate! Dost mind the soft kids on Circe"s island?
By Zeus, I can taste them now!"
"Ay and the fat cows, roast till the blood ran out of them like liquid life."
"I can even smell the smell of the roasting meat now. A welcome smell to a hungry man."
"Would that we had never left Circe. "Twas a kind queen, meet for our master! but her girls were kindly in love also."
"To Hades with the girls!" said Eurylochus. "Thy talk of meat makes me heave with desire."
He looked round cautiously before he continued.
"Friends," he said in a low, rapid whisper, "tell me, are ye purposing to starve in the midst of plenty? Saw ye ever such fat oxen and cows as graze in the pastures above?"
"Never did I see such cattle," answered another hungry wight. "G.o.ds!
they would make a feast for kings."
"And yet pain and sickness is all over us, and we l.u.s.t for food till we know not what we do!"
"Captain"s orders!"
"Ulysses has lost his cunning for sure, and hunger has turned his brain. He is no more the brave leader of old. He goes wandering alone among the rocks and sleeps all day. And his eye is clouded and courage has left his voice. Friends, shall we die thus? No man of ye loveth Ulysses better than I love him. Is he not my kinsman indeed? He brought us from the Cyclops" cave and dared the perils of h.e.l.l. All this I know and say before you now. But the king is distraught and moody. He does not know what he is doing. He would be the first to join us with the merry and grateful word were he to come back and find the good red beef roasting on the fire and smell the savoury smoke."
"Ay, captain was never one set against a feast! He loves good cheer, as becomes a proper fighting man."
"My mind doubts me, comrades," said another. "Should we not rather trust the king even unto this last thing? Have we ever found him wanting yet? Did he not make us promise? Zeus knows if the thought of hot meat does not tickle my belly as well as thine--more, friend, for thou hast a paunch yet and none have I--but I for one trust in the captain. He knows."
Then Eurylochus took up his spear as if he had decided and the discussion was over.
"Listen, men," he said. "In all shapes death is a terrible thing. But I would rather die quickly at Scylla"s hands than fade into Hades through famine. Hunger is the worst death of all. Come with me and bring your spears. We will choose the best of the herd and sacrifice to the G.o.ds. When we reach home again, can we not build a great temple to Helios, and fill it with rich gifts? The Sun-G.o.d, who gives light to all the world, will not grudge us a cow or two. Not he. "Tis a more genial G.o.d than that. Ay, and though we indeed anger the G.o.d and he wreck us in the deep! I put ye this question--Would ye not rather swallow the cold salt water for a moment and so die, than die for days among the rocks?"
His pale face worked with the force of his words. His eyes glistened with a terrible eagerness. As he spoke in a high, quivering nervous tenor, shaking his spear at them, the eagerness crept into their eyes also.
Famine strangely transforms the human face. They became men with brute"s eyes.
Eurylochus marched away out of the shelter towards the pasture lands, and the others followed him. New strength seemed to come to them as they walked towards the herd, which could be seen, a red brown ma.s.s, grazing on a plain some half-mile away.
The full force of the wind struck and r.e.t.a.r.ded them as they emerged into the open, but it brought the lowing of the cattle to their ears and they pressed on.
Ulysses lay sleeping about a quarter of a mile from the cove.
He had wandered away from his companions in great despondency. For four long weeks the gale had roared past the island away to the north.
The rain had fallen like spears, the thunder stammered its awful message, the green and white lightning snapped like whips of light. In all this the king saw the finger of evil. He knew that the mighty Poseidon still watched his fortunes with cruel, angry eyes. For this storm was no chance warring of the elements, but came, he knew, directed against him and his fated crew.
Food had got lower and lower, the men began to grumble, and black looks of reproach met his eyes on every side.
And all the time the fat cattle of Apollo cropped the tender shoots of the gra.s.s, the full udder dropped with creamy milk, and the shining flanks of the great beasts sent an alluring message to the starving men.
Often Ulysses withdrew into some lonely place and prayed to Athene, but she seemed asleep or weary of his woes, for there came no answering sign.
On this day hope seemed to have utterly departed from him. There was no break in the leaden clouds of the future.
He had wandered away along the seash.o.r.e, and fallen asleep from languor and grief, lulled by the great singing of the gale overhead.
In his sleep he dreamed vividly. He saw the interior of the island.
Suddenly, from among a clump of trees, a bright beam of golden light shot up heavenwards. He knew that one of the shepherd nymphs of Apollo went with some message for the G.o.d, and he shivered and moaned in his slumber.
Then it seemed that he was in a great place of cloud, an immense formless world of mist. And through the mist came a terrible voice which turned him to stone. It was the voice of Apollo crying in anger.
"Oh, Father Zeus, and all ye G.o.ds who dwell upon the hill above the thunder! punish the comrades of Ulysses for their crime. They have speared my beautiful cows that were my joy and of which I had great pleasure. Whenever I turned my face and shone upon the world I watched them feeding in my island. And now these whelps have slain the finest of all my herd. Vengeance! Bitter vengeance, or will I go far down into h.e.l.l and leave the world in gloom and shine no more upon it. I will make Hades a place of warmth and laughter, and the world all grey and full of death."
In the midst Ulysses awoke with that angry cry still ringing in his ears. With a sick apprehension he hurried along the slippery boulders to the shelter place where he had left the crew.
Within a hundred yards of the place he knew the worst. The wind blew a savoury smoke towards him, and his stomach yearned while his brain trembled in fear.
The men were in high glee when he came round the corner of rock among them, great joints turned upon rough spits, skins and horns enc.u.mbered the ground, and the rich fat dropped hissing into the fire.
A sudden silence fell upon their merriment as the captain came. He spread out his hands with a gesture of despair.
"Comrades," he said sorrowfully, "ye have chosen to do this thing against my advice, and now it is done we must abide by the deed. I cannot reproach you. Still, I know that we must pay heavily for this sin against the Sun-G.o.d. Farewell, Ithaca! And now it is over let us eat of our unhallowed spoil. It may be that this is our last meal together, comrades."
As he had finished speaking a strange and ominous thing happened. The blood-stained skins began to creep about like live things upon the ground.