I kept hoping that he would bring the talk around to the shipping business, so that I could introduce my own proposal. But all he wished to discuss were exotic animals and plants. At last, as dinner was brought on, I said:
"I saw some remarkable animals in India, you know. There was a rhinoceros ..."
Now I had his attention. He listened eagerly, asking searching questions, as I described the beasts of the East. "Would that I could go thither," he said. "But I fear my health would not withstand the journey. How about you? Do you ever expect to return to India?"
"Not unless I can get around the Ptolemaic blockade." I told him of my difficulties with that grasping dynasty. He shook his head.
"We have a saying," he said, "never trust a river, a woman, or a king. But what is your plan for the future?"
This was the opening for which I had been waiting. "I do have a scheme for reaching India," I said, "although it is one that some would consider mad ..." And I told him of my project for sailing around Africa. "I see, however, that I shall need another ship. My Aineti is too small for the size of the crew I mean to ship. Besides, I shall need a long-boat or two for exploring the shoreline."
"Perhaps I can help you," said Eldagon. "My brother Tubal is a shipbuilder; we work together. He makes them: I sail them."
"Would you be interested in a partnership for this voyage? You furnish the ship; I sail it."
Eldagon frowned. "I do not know. Your voyage sounds exciting but terribly risky. We have lost two ships in the last two years, so it behooves us to be cautious until that loss can be made up."
"Even if I could fetch you strange animals and plants from India?"
"Well, ah—I do not—" I could see him weaken. "I admit," he said, "that if anybody could do it, you could. I liked the way you stood up to that lion. For such a journey, all your courage and self-control would be needed. What sort of agreement had you in mind?"
Well, nobody—not even a Phoenician—has ever yet gotten the better of me on a dicker of that sort. We chaffered all through dinner—which we ate sitting in chairs, in the Punic manner—and for hours afterwards. Before we went to bed, we had our agreement roughed out.
Tubal ben-Balatar was a contrast to his brother Eldagon. There was nothing visibly Punic about him save a slight guttural accent. A younger man than Eldagon, whom he otherwise resembled, he wore a Greek tunic and cloak. His face was clean-shaven, and his hair cut short in the Roman fashion. He even gave me the Roman salute, by shooting his right arm forward and up, like a schoolboy asking his teacher for leave to speak. He examined the Ainetê at her quay and said:
"You are right in wanting a larger ship for this voyage, Master Eudoxos. Howsomever, you will need a ship different not only in size but also in kind."
"How so?"
"See that big fellow in the next dock? That's the kind of ship one needs in the Western Ocean. Notice the high freeboard and wide beam. They are required by the great swells one meets during a blow."
"The Inner Sea has some pretty lively storms."
"Yes, but you avoid most of them by lying up in winter. In the Atlantic, one meets storms at any time of year. Therefore one must either have a ship built to withstand them or do without shipping. Such a ship requires extra-heavy bracing to keep the long swells from racking her to pieces."
"Do you propose to build such a ship from the keel up, or has your brother one already in service?"
"Better than either; we have a new ship on the ways, almost ready to launch. Let's go look at her."
We climbed over the side of the Ainetê by our rope ladder into Tubal's boat, a six-oared harbor tug. We rowed to the mainland, where his shipway stood. Here on the slip sat the new ship, called the Tyria. She was a huge craft, even bigger than the Ourania, and somewhat differently proportioned. I could see from her massive construction and tubby form that she would prove slow; but then, Tubal knew more about shipbuilding for the Atlantic trade than I did.
It was evening by the time I had finished inspecting the Tyria, and Tubal wanted to show me some of Gades' famous night life. Eldagon begged off.
"That sort of thing began to bore me years ago," he said.
"Besides, I must look to my animals. The male ibex has been ailing."
Tubal indicated young Pronax. "Are you sure that you wish your cousin to attend? The girls put on a fairly bawdy performance."
"After India, I don't think anything in Gades would shock him."
And indeed the floor show, in Gades' largest tavern, was tame enough. True, the dancing girls wore tunics of transparent, filmy stuff; but none showed her naked teats and cleft as they do in India. A comedian cracked jokes that must have been funny, to judge by the roars of mirth they elicited. But oimoi! he used such a strong local dialect of Greek, sprinkled with Punic and Iberian words, that I missed the point of half of them.
I suppose the reason for the repute of Gades as a center of wicked night life is that it is virtually the only city west of Neapolis where there is any night life at all. There is little or none in the Punic cities, like Panormos and Utica, because Phoenicians are a strait-laced, sober lot The Massiliots, although Greeks with a reputation as gourmets, have much the same outlook. So, to those who like a bit of rowdy fun, Gades seems like an oasis in a vast desert of rigid morality.
Watching the girls sing, dance, and tweetle their flutes gave me an idea. I asked Tubaclass="underline"
"Who owns those girls?"
"The proprietor. There he is, over there." He pointed to a burly, sweaty man talking to some sailors at a table. "May I speak to him?"
Tubal caught the man's eye and beckoned him over. "Our genial host, Marcus Edeco," he said.
After the amenities, I asked Edeco: "Would you be interested in selling any of those girls?"
"I don't know. At a price, maybe," said Edeco. "What have you in mind?"
"I'm planning a long voyage, and at the end of it are some Hellenes stuck in a far land, who want Greek wives. It's a risky voyage, so I won't take any girls who don't want to go."
"Stay around until closing time and I'll let you talk to the girls."
I had quite a time staying awake until then, since some of the customers seemed determined to make an all-night revel of it. A couple of hours before dawn, Edeco got the last of them out and lined up his girls in front of me. There were seven of them.
"Would any of you girls like husbands?" I asked. "Real, legally wedded spouses?"
All seven let out a simultaneous shriek and threw themselves upon me, kissing my hands and face and chirping: "When? Where? Who? Are they young? Are they handsome? Are they rich?"
"There's your answer," said Tubal with a grin.
"Easy, girls," I said. "It's not quite so simple as that." And I told them of the Bactrio-Greek soldiers who had asked me to fetch Hellenic brides for them. Since I did not make light of the length and hazards of the journey, the girls sobered up. In the end, four said they wanted to go. The remaining three —two of whom had children—preferred to stay in Gades. It took a ten-day of haggling, off and on, to beat down Marcus Edeco to a reasonable price. I also bought two more girls at another tavern.
Most of the crew of the Ainetê declined to sail on the Tyria. So I put my mate in command of the Ainetê, hired a few extra sailors, bought a new cargo, and sent the Ainetê off for Kyzikos.
I hired more local men to fill out the crew of the Tyria. Several had sailed down the Mauretanian coast as far as the mouth of the Lixus, albeit none had even been so far as half-legendary Kernê. Remembering the story of King Necho's Phoenician circumnavigators, I put aboard plenty of seed wheat, with hoes, sickles, and other tools for light farming. I had hired several sailors with farming experience.