And so, on the twenty-fourth of Metageitnion, in the third year of the 166th Olympiad, when Nausias was archon of Athens, the Tyria, with two long boats in tow, stood out from the harbor of Gades into the windy, tide-tossed Atlantic, on her way to India.
BOOK VIII — Mandonius the Iberian
My mate was a Spaniard named Mandonius, who wore the tight breeches, black cloak, and Utile, round black bonnet of the Iberian peoples. He had sailed the Mauretanian coast and seemed able. When we set out, I had the sailors rig a tent forward of the deckhouse, which I assigned to our six music girls. I told Mandonius:
"Pass the word that I will have no intrigues with those girls. The men shall keep hands off."
Madnonius' black, drooping Spanish eyebrows rose. "You cannot mean that, Captain!"
"Of course I mean it! What do you mean?"
"But—but my Captain! What are women for, anyway?"
"Whatever they're for, these girls are not for the pleasure of the crew. That includes you."
"Is it that you want them all for youself, Captain? At your age, I should think—"
"Never mind my age!"
"A thousand pardons, sir. But it is not as if these women were virgins—"
"Look, little man," said I with an effort to keep calm. "I'm taking the wenches to India to sell to Greek soldiers, who want to free and wed them. Now, everybody knows that a virginal dancing girl is like a fish with feathers. But I don't intend to spoil the deal by having them arrive in India with babes in their arms."
"You can always drop unwanted infants over the side—"
"Plague! Eight months pregnant, then."
Mandonius cocked his head, with a flicker of amusement on his usually dignified countenance. "Captain, do you really hope to have six pretty girls on a crowded ship with thirty-odd healthy men for a year, and not have even one tiny little bit of belly-bumping?"
"By Bakchos' balls, I certainly do expect it! Now run along and pass the order."
"Aye aye, sir. But you are feeling your years, Captain," he murmured, and then was gone before I could retort.
We sailed south from Gades, across the western horn of the Strait of the Pillars. Aft lay the pale-yellow sand hills of Belon, conspicuous against the dark olive-brown Iberian mountains. To port, barely visible in the distance, rose the vast rock of Calpe, soon hidden behind the other Pillar. This is the long Elephant Ridge, culminating in Mount Abila, which is really much larger and higher than Calpe albiet not so precipitous. We steered to starboard and headed down the Moorish coast, pushed by a fresh, mild northeaster.
The sun set as we passed Tingis. While taking a turn on deck after dinner, I observed Mandonius at the rail with one of the girls. They were laughing their heads off, and the mate was buzzing about the girl in a way that left no doubt of his intentions. He poked her ribs, pulled her hair, tickled her, and fondled her, while she shrieked and giggled. I nudged the mate and jerked my head towards the cabin, which he and I shared.
When we were seated inside, I said: "I told you, hands off those girls! Don't you understand plain Greek?"
"But I had no harm in mind, Captain—"
"Oh, yes? I suppose all that fingering was just a challenge to a game of sacred way? When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed, without any ifs or buts! Do I make myself plain?"
Mandonius gave a snarl of anger. "Captain Eudoxos! I will have you know that I am a real man. And when a real man sees a woman, what does he do? I will tell you—he futters her, that is what he does!" He smote the table. "You Greeks can do without women, because you amuse yourselves with sodomy and other beastliness. But we Spaniards are real men. When there is a woman on board, I do what my nature tells me—"
"Shut up!" I shouted. "I don't care what kind of man you are. Either you keep those wandering hands—and other organs—to yourself, or by all the gods and goddesses, I'll put you off at Zelis!"
"You insult my honor!" he yelled, jumping to his feet.
Although Mandonium was shorter than I, the overhead of the cabin was still too low for him to stand upright. As a result, he hit his head a terrific blow against a beam and fell to the deck, between the table and his bunk.
Stooping carefully, I rose and went to him. He was crouched on the floor, holding his head in his hands and groaning. I helped him to bed and fetched the physician Mentor, who dosed him with drugged wine. Although, the next day, Mandonius had a headache and a great lump on his scalp, nothing seemed to be cracked. He was very apologetic, and for some days a more respectful and conscientious first officer could not have been found.
On our port, the distant, olive-colored peaks of the Atlas slid away, becoming lower as the days passed. The Tyria stood well out from shore, a good league from land, so that the actual shoreline could not be seen from the deck. The breeze freshened as we got farther south, and a current helped us along.
My passengers—the music girls, the doctor and his apprentice, and the shipwrights—pestered me with silly questions, like: "Are we halfway to India yet?" or "When shall we see a sea monster?" As the hills sank below the horizon, they became nervous and urged me to sail closer to shore.
"By Zeus the Savior, I assure you I know where the land is!" I told them. "I send a man up the mast every few hours to make certain."
"But it makes us fearful that we cannot see the coast," said one of them. "Please, Captain, do us a favor by sailing closer in!"
"No! And I'll tell you why. This is a dangerous coast, with sandy shoals extending far out under water. You think you're safely offshore, and plêgê! you're aground."
"But, Captain—"
"Besides, out here in the Atlantic you have those beastly flows and ebbs of the sea called tides, which pick the sand up from one shoal and dump it on another, so that they are always changing position. It seems to have something to do with the moon. No, thank you, I'll stay out here where it's safe."
This nonsense continued for three days. Then came a night when I went to sleep at midnight, giving Mandonius the watch until dawn.
The next thing I knew, the cabin lurched violently, spilling me off my pallet. There was a frightful racket of snapping timbers, shireks and screams, the roar of breakers, and the sound of water rushing into the hull.
In no time I was out on deck. A lantern, hung from the mast, shed a faint, yellow light into the darkness. A mist hid the stars, and the moon had not yet risen. It took no yogin's wisdom, however, to tell that we had gone aground.
The sailors reported several feet of water in the hold. Others ascertained that we were on a sandy beach, but that with the moderate surf we were not likely to break up. There was nothing to do but wait until dawn. When I had the screaming women calmed, I took Mandonius aside.
"Now then," I said, "what happened?"
He sighed and drew his dagger. Thinking that he meant to stab me, I leaped back and grabbed for my own; but he only extended his to me hilt first. With his other hand, he pulled his tunic aside to expose his chest.
"Kill me, Captain Eudoxos," he said.
"Later, perhaps. Right now, I merely wish to know how this occurred."
"It is all my fault."
"I have guessed that already. But how?"
"Well, sir, you know those girls?"
"Yes."
"As I have told you, a real man who sees such a filly thinks of only one thing; and we Spaniards—"
"By Herakles, will you get to the point, you stupid ox?"