een bound, and made him fast to the iron bar in
the hold. Next he gathered up the dead in his mighty arms, and set them
against the bulwarks of the fore-deck--harvesting the fruits of War.
Above the deck the man who had crept along the yard was hanging by his
two hands which the spear had pinned together to the yard.

"Art thou there, friend?" cried the Wanderer, mocking him. "Hast thou
chosen to stay with me rather than go with thy friends, or seek new
service? Nay, then, as thou art so staunch, abide there and keep a good
look-out for the river mouth and the market where thou shalt sell me for
a great price." So he spoke, but the man was already dead of pain and
fear. Then the Wanderer unbuckled his golden armour, which clanged upon
the deck, and drew fresh water from the hold to cleanse himself, for
he was stained like a lion that has devoured an ox. Next, with a golden
comb he combed his long dark curls, and he gathered his arrows out of
the bodies of the dead, and out of the thwarts and the sides of the
ship, cleansed them, and laid them back in the quiver. When all this
was ended he put on his armour again; but strong as he was, he could not
tear the spear from the helm without breaking the gold; so he snapped
the shaft and put on the helmet with the point of the javelin still
fixed firm in the crest, as Fate would have it so, and this was the
beginning of his sorrows. Next he ate meat and bread, and drank wine,
and poured forth some of the wine before his gods. Lastly he dragged
up the heavy stone with which the ship was moored, a stone heavier far,
they say, than two other men could lift. He took the tiller in his hand;
the steady north wind, the Etesian wind, kept blowing in the sails, and
he steered straight southward for the mouths of the Nile.

IV

THE BLOOD-RED SEA

A hard fight it had been and a long, and the Wanderer was weary. He took
the tiller of the ship in his hand, and steered for the South and
for the noonday sun, which was now at his highest in the heavens. But
suddenly the bright light of the sky was darkened and the air was filled
with the rush, and the murmur, and the winnowing of innumerable wings.
It was as if all the birds that have their homes and seek their food in
the great salt marsh of Cayster had risen from the South and had flown
over sea in one hour, for the heaven was darkened with their flight, and
loud with the call of cranes and the whistling cry of the wild ducks.
So dar