Then they said, "If no man has hurt thee, thy trouble is from the gods,
and we may not interfere. Bear it patiently, and pray to them."
In the morning Polyphemus opened the door, and sitting in it, let his
sheep pass out, feeling each one, so that the Greeks might not escape.
But the crafty one fastened himself and his remaining comrades under the
breasts of the largest sheep, and so, hidden by the wool, escaped
unnoticed. They hurried to their ship and put out to sea. And now
feeling safe, Ulysses shouted to the blind monster and taunted him,
whereon, rushing to the shore, Polyphemus lifted up a vast rock and
hurled it toward the sound he heard. It almost struck the vessel, and
its waves swept the little craft back to the land. In great haste they
shoved off again, and when they felt safe, shouted at him once more. He
followed them, hurling rocks, but now they were beyond his reach and
returned safely to their companions.
Next the wanderers reached the island of Æolus, who controls the winds.
He received them with royal hospitality, pointed out to them their
proper course to Ithaca, and when they left him, gave to Ulysses a bag
in which he had tied up all the contrary winds, that they might have a
fair one to waft them home. For nine days they sailed, and at last were
actually in sight of their destination; but the seamen fancying there
was treasure in Æolus's bag opened it while their leader slept. At once
leaped out all the wild winds, and there was a terrible tempest which
swept the vessels back to their starting-point. Æolus, however, refused
to help them again, for he said they were plainly accursed of the gods.
So they journeyed on as best they might, and came to the land of the
Læstrygonians. These people were of enormous strength and were
cannibals; but Ulysses and his men knowing nothing of this, sailed into
the narrow harbor. As they landed the cannibals rushed upon them and
slew them, and hurling rocks from the top of the narrow entrance, sank
those ships which would have escaped. Ulysses in his own ship managed to
force his way out, but all the other ships were taken and their crews
slain.
Then, in deep mourning, Ulysses sailed on till he came to the home of
Circe, a beautiful but wicked enchantress. Here he divided his crew into
two parties, and while one half rested, the others went to find what
place this was. Circe welcomed them in her palace, feasted them, and
gave them a magic drink. When they had drunk this, she touched them with
her wand, and they were turned into swine, all except one, who had
feared to enter the palace, and now returning, told Ulysses that the
others had disappeared. Then the hero arose and went alone to the
palace; but on the way he sought out a little herb which might render
the drink harmless. This he ate, and when Circe having given him the
deadly cup, would have turned him also into a brute, he drew his sword
as if to slay her. Terribly frightened, she besought mercy, and at his
request restored his men to their own forms.
Directed by her, Ulysses is said to have entered the abode of the dead,
and conversed with the ghosts of all the great warriors who had been
slain in the Trojan war, or who had died since. At last, when Circe had
no more wonders to show him, the wanderer left her, once more directed
on the road to Ithaca, and to some extent warned of the dangers which
beset the path.
First he had to pass the Sirens, beautiful but baleful maidens, who sat
on a rocky shore and sang a magic song so alluring, that men hearing it
let their ships drift on the rocks while listening, or threw themselves
into the sea to swim to the maidens, and were drowned. No man had ever
heard them and lived. Here the crafty one filled his companions' ears
with wax, so they could not hear the Sirens' song, and he bade them bind
him to the mast, so that he might hear it but could not go to them. This
was done, and they passed in safety. Ulysses heard the sweet song, and
raved and struggled to break his bonds, but they held fast. So he was
the first to hear the Sirens' song and live. And some say he was the
last as well, for in despair, thinking their music had lost its power,
the maidens threw themselves into the sea.
[Illustration: Ulysses defying the Cyclops.]
Next the wanderers came to a narrow strait, on one side of which was
Charybdis, a dread whirlpool from which no ship could escape, and on the
other was the cave of Scylla, a monster having six snake-like heads,
with each of which she seized a man from every passing ship. Choosing
the lesser evil, the bold Ulysses sailed through the strait close to
Scylla; and six poor wretches were snatched by the monster from the deck
and devoured, but the rest escaped.
[Illustration: Menelaus. Paris. Diomedes. Ulysses. Nestor. Achilles.
Agamemnon.]
Then they came to an uninhabited island, filled with herds of cattle.
These were held sacred to the sun, and no man might slay or eat them
without being punished by the gods. This Ulysses knew well, and warned
his men against touching them; but great tempests now swelled up, and
for a whole month the sailors could not leave the island. Their
provisions gave out and they were starving. Then their leader wandered
away looking for help, and while he was gone they slew some of the oxen
and ate their fill. The storm died, and, Ulysses returning, they again
set sail; but at once came a terrific hurricane, upset the ship, and
drowned all of the guilty ones. Ulysses had not eaten the flesh of the
oxen; and he alone was saved, clinging to a spar, and was tossed on the
island of the nymph Calypso. After a long sojourn he escaped from here
on a raft. But his old enemy Neptune again raised a storm, which broke
his raft; and, naked and almost dead, he was thrown upon another shore,
from which at last the pitying people sent him home. He had been away
twenty years.
His fair wife Penelope had been for four years past pestered with
suitors, who declared that Ulysses must be dead. She put them all off,
by saying that first she must finish a wonderful cloth she was weaving;
and on this she undid each night what she had done in the day. Meanwhile
they stayed in the palace, haughty and insolent, terrifying everybody,
in defiance of the protests of Ulysses' infant son, now grown to be
almost a man.
The wanderer, coming alone and finding how things were, feared they
would slay him; so, disguised as an old beggar man, he went to the
palace. The suitors mocked him, and then in sport it was proposed to see
who could bend the great Ulysses's bow. It was brought out, but none
could bend it. The beggar asked leave to try, and they hesitated, but
gave him leave. Right easily he bent it, and sent then a broad arrow
through the leader of the suitors. Ulysses's son ranged himself by his
side. Some old servants, recognizing him, did the same; and soon all
those parasites were slain. Then was there a royal welcome from wife and
son, and afterward from kinsmen and friends and servants, for the royal
wanderer, whom the gods had spared, and who at last was returned home.