Over the Wine-Dark Sea

"Well, so he does," Diokles said. "All right, then. I'd sooner pray for fair winds than foul, anyway."

"So would I," Menedemos said.

Sostratos thought of himself as a modern, rational man. He'd been embarrassed to spend the past couple of days praying for contrary winds. And he'd been embarrassed all over again to have his prayer fail so ignominiously, for a fine breeze blew from the north this morning. So much for the gods, he thought, and a solid point for rationalism.

Menedemos was up before dawn, too, smiling at the sky. He'd probably been praying for fair winds, so his belief in the gods was bound to be vindicated, too. That thought made Sostratos grumpier than ever. But, instead of gloating, Menedemos just pointed to the thin crescent moon rising a little ahead of the sun. "Another month almost done," he said.

"Sure enough." Sostratos peered into the brightening twilight between that little cheese-paring of a moon and the horizon. "And there's Aphrodite's wandering star."

"Why, so it is," Menedemos said. "Sure enough, your eyes aren't so bad if you can pick it out against the bright sky. The sun's almost up."

"I knew where to look," Sostratos answered with a shrug. "It's been sliding down the morning sky toward the sun for weeks now. Before too long, we'll see it in the evening instead. People used to think the evening appearance was a different star from the morning one -  the same with Hermes' wandering star."

"What do you mean, used to?" Menedemos said. "Half our sailors probably still believe that."

"I meant educated people," Sostratos said. "The sailors are fine men but . . .." Most of them thought of little save women (or, with a few, boys), wine, and tavern brawls. How does one talk with such people? he wondered.

"I like 'em fine," Menedemos said.

"I know." Sostratos did his best not to make that sound like a judgment. Still and all, what did it say about his cousin's taste?

Menedemos didn't seem to notice Sostratos' tone, which was just as well. He said, "We'll sail today."

"I know." Sostratos knew how unhappy he sounded, too, but he couldn't help it. "Do you think we'll make Syracuse by nightfall?"

"We would, if we weren't so overloaded," his cousin answered. "These fat scows we'll be keeping company with? Not a chance. We'll put in at one of the Sicilian towns tonight, or spend the night at sea, then go on in the morning."

"All right." Sostratos sighed. "One more night to spend worrying."

"Nothing to worry about," Menedemos said. "What could possibly go wrong?"

Sostratos started to answer. Then he started to splutter. And then he started to laugh. "Oh, no, you don't. You're not going to get me to turn purple and pitch a fit. I'm wise to you, Menedemos."

"A likely story," Menedemos said. They grinned at each other. For a moment, Sostratos forgot how much he wished the Aphrodite weren't sailing for Syracuse.

But he couldn't forget for long. All around the harbor, captains were waking up, tasting the breeze, and realizing it would be a good day to sail. They called orders to their crews and to the longshoremen who came down the wharves to cast off their mooring lines and bring them aboard once more. The sailors grunted and heaved at the sweeps even round ships carried, and slowly, a digit at a time, eased the ships away from their berths so they could make sail and head for Sicily.

Seeing their struggles to get started, Sostratos laughed again. "Our rowers may have to work hard, but not that hard."

"You're right." Menedemos waved to a couple of longshoremen. "Over here, too!"

"You're going to take this little thing to Syracuse?" one of the men said as he tossed a line down onto the sacks of grain in the Aphrodite's waist. "Good idea -  you can be a boat for all the real ships." He laughed at his own wit.

That sort of remark was as calculated to make Menedemos furious as Menedemos' crack had been to infuriate Sostratos. But Sostratos' cousin only shrugged, saying, "Onasimos likes us well enough to pay us to haul grain." The longshoreman turned away, disappointment on his face. Menedemos raised his voice: "Come on, boys, let's show these round-ship sailors how to row."

Diokles set the stroke. The men -  all of them at the oars -  pulled as hard as they had in the fight with the Roman trireme. And the Aphrodite . . . moved as if she were traveling through mud, not seawater. Diokles said, "I think this is about as much as we'll get from her, captain."

"Yes, I think you're right," Menedemos agreed. "I'd hoped for a little more, but . . .." He shrugged.

"She feels different in the water," Sostratos said. "More solid, more as if we were on dry land. She doesn't shift so much underfoot."

"I should hope she doesn't," Menedemos said. "She's carrying twice as much as usual, so the waves don't seem to hit her so hard."