Thus it came about that, almost three years to the day after my departure on my first Indian voyage, I weighed anchor in the Ourania at Myos Hormos for a second try. This time I knew better than to take olive oil to sell to the Indians. I loaded more copper ingots instead.
The second voyage was in most respects like the first, but less adventurous. With Linos as mate, I found Barygaza without difficulty. This time I did not seek out holy men for advice on stiffening my yard, having given that up as a bad job. Neither did I gallop all over India, getting involved with snake charmers, kings, robbers, and religious fanatics.
I stayed in Barygaza and did well enough. My friend Otaspes was no longer there, having left for his native Karmania. I partly disarmed the suspicions of the Arabs by buying some of my return cargo from them. I also bought some of the rare woods that India supplies, being sure that the skilled Egyptian cabinetmakers would find good use for them. The only event of any moment was that poor young Pronax fell sick with a flux so severe that I thought I should lose him; but he recovered.
I bought a statuette of Ganesha, like the one King Girixis had given me on the first voyage. It had irked me to have to give my first one to Hippalos, even though I had promised it to him. After hunting all over Barygaza, I found another, the same size as the first but carved from ivory instead of cast in bronze. Moreover, it showed the elephant-headed god riding on a mouse instead of sitting on a flower. Either the divinity must be a very small godlet, or his mouse must grow to even more gigantic size than do the real mice of India, which are as large as kittens or puppies.
To replace my fine Persian sword, which had been stolen, I also bought a sword of the marvelous Indian steel, with a rippling pattern on the blade and edges sharp enough to shave with. I had to have it fitted with a new hilt, however, to fit my big hands.
On the way home, we met a storm. The stout old Ourania rode it out well enough, but it threw us off our course, so that we raised the African coast far south of the Southern Horn. The shore was more heavily wooded than that around the Southern Horn, but the woods were of a scrubby, thorny sort. The coast ran nearly straight for many leagues, with no sign of a decent harbor. A heavy surf beat against terrifying offshore rocks. Altogether, a coast less inviting to mariners were hard to find.
To aggravate matters, we found ourselves struggling into the teeth of the seasonal wind, and the Ourania was one of those ships with little ability to beat to windward. For one thing, her mainsail was too baggy; despite my vigilance, Physkon's officials had managed to pass off an inferior piece of sailcloth on me. Up the wretched coast we plodded, zigzagging in and out from the coast and gaining only a few furlongs with each tack. Our food and water ran lower and lower—especially the water. We kept watching for the mouths of rivers, but there seemed to be none. More than ever I wished there were some sort of sail by which one could sail closer to the wind.
At last, when we were nearly dead from thirst, the lookout called that he saw the mouth of a river. Since there were no rocks in sight at this point, we felt our way in, sounding continuously, as close to shore as we dared and anchored. Then we put over the skiff. A sailor named Aristomenes rowed me ashore.
Our disappointment was great when we found that the river was only a small stream—and, moreover, that it was now completely dry. Swells from the sea washed in and out of its mouth, but this water was salt as far up as it went.
"We're out of luck, Captain," said the sailor. He sat down wearily on a piece of driftwood. "We might as well eat before we die." He began to open up the lunch we had brought ashore.
"Don't give up," I said. "There might be a pool up the bed of this stream."
He looked gloomily at the tangle of thorn bushes and long grass. "If we could ever get up there to find out. A man could get lost in that stuff and walk in circles for days until—"
The sailor broke off, staring towards the bush. I whirled to look, too.
"Company," I said. "Whatever you do, don't show fear or excitement"
A black face peered out of the dry vegetation. Behind it, I caught glimpses of the shiny black skins of other men moving about. I got to my feet with a leisureliness I did not feel.
"Rejoice!" I said with a forced smile. "Come on out! Won't you join us for lunch?"
The owner of the face could not, of course, understand my Greek, but I hoped that he could interpret the tone. Presently he pushed through the leaves and stood on the sand of the beach. He was a tall, well-built man of middle age. He was very black and quite naked save for a string around his waist, into which he had thrust a few small belongings. He trailed a spear with an iron head. His hair and beard formed a circle of frizzy gray wool around his head, and on his body were decorative lines and circles of little scars.
The black smiled a nervous little smile, as if uncertain whether to bolt, attack, or accept my invitation. I dug into the food bag and brought out two loaves of bread. I bit into one and held the other out to the black.
He came a little nearer, poised for flight, and at last nerved himself to snatch the bread from my hand. He stared at it and at me for a long time before working up the courage to take a bite. He chewed for a while with a puzzled expression, as if he could not make up his mind whether or not he liked this strange food. I sat down again and went on with my repast. At last the black squatted with us in the sand. His companions formed a line along the shoreward edge of the beach, staring and muttering. Two of them had an antelope slung by its feet from a pole.
I got out a small wineskin and poured a cup for myself and one for our visitor. He drank and burst into speech, none of which I could understand, but he looked pleased. At last I pointed to myself and said: "Eudoxos!" Then I pointed to the sailor and said: "Aristomenes!" Lastly I pointed to the black with a questioning expression.
"Bakapha," he said. When he had relished a dried fig, he spoke to the men who carried the antelope. Soon they had built a fire, which they started by rubbing sticks together, hacked off a haunch, and were roasting it. When it was done, Aristomenes and I were each given a slab.
Bakapha proved a man of some intelligence; for, when I pointed at various objects, he at once gave the names for them in his own tongue. Thus I soon worked up a vocabulary of a score of words, wishing the while that my memory were as keen as it had been thirty years before. With my few words and much sign language, I also made him realize that we needed fresh water.
Bakapha smiled and pointed up the dry stream bed, saying something that I took to mean: "Come, I will show you."
"Be careful, Captain," said Aristomenes. "They may want to get you off into the bush to kill and eat you."
"Perhaps," I said, "but we must take that chance. If they kill me, Linos can get you back to Myos Hormos."
I followed Bakapha upstream, winding through the bush on game trails that I should never have noticed alone, but which afforded passage with the least damage to garments and skin. Sure enough, a furlong or so upstream, we came to a sandy pool in the stream bed.
When I got back to the beach, I found Aristomenes standing amongst the blacks, who—chattering and laughing uproariously—felt his skin and fingered his ragged tunic. He looked unhappy but cheered up when I told him about the water. He said:
"Captain, here's something you ought to see."
He indicated the piece of wood on which he had sat. We pulled it out and knocked the damp sand off it.
"That," I said, "looks like the stem post of a small vessel, with a figurehead in the form of a horse's head. Let's take it aboard. Row out with it, while I fraternize with Bakapha here. Bring a couple of jars back with you, and a tablet and stylus from my cabin."