one, sits munching dates on
a faggot of brushwood outside the door of the lighthouse, which towers
gigantic to the clouds on his left. His helmet, full of dates, is
between his knees; and a leathern bottle of wine is by his side. Behind
him the great stone pedestal of the lighthouse is shut in from the open
sea by a low stone parapet, with a couple of steps in the middle to the
broad coping. A huge chain with a hook hangs down from the lighthouse
crane above his head. Faggots like the one he sits on lie beneath it
ready to be drawn up to feed the beacon.

Caesar is standing on the step at the parapet looking out anxiously,
evidently ill at ease. Britannus comes out of the lighthouse door.

RUFIO. Well, my British islander. Have you been up to the top?

BRITANNUS. I have. I reckon it at 200 feet high.

RUFIO. Anybody up there?

BRITANNUS. One elderly Tyrian to work the crane; and his son, a well
conducted youth of 14.

RUFIO (looking at the chain). What! An old man and a boy work that!
Twenty men, you mean.

BRITANNUS. Two only, I assure you. They have counterweights, and a
machine with boiling water in it which I do not understand: it is not
of British design. They use it to haul up barrels of oil and faggots to
burn in the brazier on the roof.

RUFIO. But--

BRITANNUS. Excuse me: I came down because there are messengers coming
along the mole to us from the island. I must see what their business is.
(He hurries out past the lighthouse.)

CAESAR (coming away from the parapet, shivering and out of sorts).
Rufio: this has been a mad expedition. We shall be beaten. I wish I knew
how our men are getting on with that barricade across the great mole.

RUFIO (angrily). Must I leave my food and go starving to bring you a
report?

CAESAR (soothing him nervously). No, Rufio, no. Eat, my son. Eat. (He
takes another turn, Rufio chewing dates meanwhile.) The Egyptians cannot
be such fools as not to storm the barricade and swoop down on us here
before it is finished. It is the first time I have ever run an avoidable
risk. I should not have come to Egypt.

RUFIO. An hour ago you were all for victory.

CAESAR (apologetically). Yes: I was a fool--rash, Rufio--boyish.

RUFIO. Boyish! Not a bit of it. Here. (Offering him a handful of dates.)

CAESAR. What are these for?

RUFIO. To eat. That's what's the matter with you. When a man comes to
your age, he runs down before his midday meal. Eat and drink; and then
have ano