It worked fine on one tack but not on the other, since to wear ship in the usual manner brought the lee edge of the sail upwind. I puzzled over this difficulty for hours.
Then I thought: who says the normal position of the yard must be athwartships? Why not mount it parallel to the keel and let it swing to port or starboard, depending upon which side the wind is on? Then the yard would be the weather edge on both tacks. To change tacks, put the helm down instead of up, until the wind fills the sail from the other side.
"I've got it!" I yelled. "Kalba, come here ..."
"Begging your pardon, Captain, but nobody in his right mind would sail under such a crazy rig."
"Well, some people in their wrong minds are going to sail with it Cut and sew me a full-sized sail like this."
"But, Captain Eudoxos! You won't be able to tack like you say, because the forward end of the spar will foul the forestay!"
"Oi!" said I, frowning. "You're right, curse it" I pondered some more and said: "We'll cut off the forward point of the triangle, so. Then the spar will clear the forestay. Also, the sail will look a little more like a conventional sail and so frighten the sailors less. There will still be a short unstiffened weather edge, but I hope that won't matter."
Spurius Kalba still looked upon my new sail design with something like horror. Then began a tug of wills, which no doubt a god looking down from Heaven would have found very funny, between Kalba and me. He did everything he could think of, short of open mutiny, to prevent the construction of the new rig. He made transparent excuses; he invented delays; he sulked and grumbled. But I stood over him and drove him on until the sail was made to my directions.
The sail was no longer a true triangle, but a figure that the geometers call a rhomboid. I still call it a triangular sail, though, since nearly everybody knows what a triangle is, while the term "rhomboid" only brings a blank look to the faces of most people.
When the Mikrotyria was rerigged, the sailors all put on long faces. One said: "Begging your pardon, sir, but I'd rather stay here to be speared by the Lixites than go to sea in that thing."
The rest wagged their heads in agreement. I could see that force would only push them into open mutiny, and I did not care to have to fight them at odds of twenty to one.
"I'm going, anyway," I said. "I wouldn't ask you to sail until the rig has been tried out, but the ship is too big for one man to handle. I must have five or six men. You've taken chances already; who'll take one more to get us home?"
They avoided my eye until Mandonius said: "Captain, I will sail with you. It takes a real man to sail with a crazy rig like that, but we Spaniards are real men. Now, which of you dung-eating dogs will prove that he has more courage than a mouse, by sailing with us?"
We rounded up four more volunteers, who went aboard with the look of men going to their doom. When we weighed anchor and stood out to sea, though, their expressions changed. For the Mikrotyria headed north, diagonally against the wind, as if the sea nymphs were pushing her along. When we were half a league out to sea, I put the helm down and swung the bow to starboard. The wind filled the sail on the other side, and soon we were slanting in towards the coast at a point well to windward of that we had left.
The new rig did not work quite so well on the port tack as on the starboard, because the slanting yard was hung on the port side of the mast. Therefore, on the port tack, the wind blew the sail against the mast. But it worked well enough to enable us to gain on wind and current, so that we returned to the coast several furlongs upwind from where we left it. I made two more tacks to prove that this had not been accidental, then put the helm up and ran free back to our island.
The next few days were spent in modifying the new rig in the light of experience, and then we sailed for home. "I always knew that sail would work," quoth Spurius Kalba.
Despite the success of my new sail, the Mikrotyria soon showed the effects of her hasty construction. She leaked, and every day she leaked faster. Everyone was kept busy with pumps and buckets, and I put in at Zelis to beach her at high tide for hasty caulking and tarring. Then we went on to Tingis.
I had hoped to sail her back to Gades, but to attempt this in winter in the ship's present condition had been foolhardy. So I put in at Tingis, a bustling port through which passes nearly all the foreign trade of Mauretania. To tell the truth, I was also ashamed, after all my big talk, to face Eldagon and Tubal and admit that I had run the Tyria aground during the first ten-day of our voyage.
At Tingis, the harbor was practically closed down, because it was still winter, and snow could be seen on the peaks of the Atlas. The only ships that went out were fishermen, and they only for brief cruises on fair days. The Mikrotyria's arrival was a startling event. Her bizarre rig advertised her coming. Within an hour of arrival, every seaman, shipbuilder, longshoreman, and waterfront loafer was swarming around and asking questions. Were we from the fabled land of the Antipodes? From the moon?
Then came the merchants, sniffing out a chance to buy new stock ahead of their competitors. Not having received any cargoes for months, they were hungry. I took my time, selling the cargo bit by bit. Thus I got quite a decent price on most items.
I paid off the crew, adding fares to take them back to Gades. The Athenian shipwrights I sent home to Peiraieus. Learning that there was not a single Greek physician in Tingis, Mentor and his apprentice resolved to stay, set up practice, and write to Athens for their families to join them. The six music girls I gave their freedom. Some had formed attachments to members of the crew, and I think they all found one way or another of making a living.
I rehired four sailors, including the one who spoke Moorish. They were grateful, since winter is a lean time for seamen. Although, like all ports in the Inner Sea, Tingis had a few Hellenes, most of the folk were Moors who spoke little or no Greek. Therefore I determined to learn the rudiments of that tongue, which I did with the help of the Moorish-speaking sailor. I also needed a few men to help me demonstrate the Mikrotyria, which I meant to sell. Between chaffering with the merchants and taking the Mikrotyria out to show off her paces, the ten-days slipped by. When I hinted that the ship could be had, there were remarks about her crazy rig. But a syndicate of merchants and shipbuilders came secretly to offer to buy the ship. Although doubtful about the strange sail, they would try it out. If it did not work, they could change it for a more conventional rig.
When the ship and the longboats had been sold and I added up my total gains, I was astonished to discover how well I had done. I had a total of around three talents of silver. Little by little, I changed nearly all of this into gold. That weight of silver could not be carried on the person, and to travel about with a two-hundred-pound chest of money was asking for trouble. The equivalent in gold was a mere eighteen pounds, which I divided between Pronax and myself. Each of us wore a money belt under his clothing.
By the middle of Elaphebolion, the weather showed signs of spring, and the shipmen began caulking, tarring, and painting their craft. Pronax and I visited the local sights. One was the alleged tomb of Antaios, which some clever fellow had put a fence around and charged admission to see. The grave was half open, exposing the huge bones of the giant They said he must have been as big as the Colossus of Rhodes. To me, the bones looked suspiciously like those of an elephant.
I also meant to call on King Bocchus, who ruled the land from a castle high up on Mount Abila. Perhaps I could get him to back another attempt at circumnavigating Africa. With reasonable luck this time, I ought to clear enough profit to pay back the investments both of the king and of my Gaditanian backers, with a profit for each as well as myself.