THE MISSION.
Cleanor's interview with Hasdrubal was followed by a long conversation
with one of his staff, Gisco by name, in which were discussed the best
and safest means of crossing from Africa to Greece. The Greek might have
had at his command the best and fleetest war-galley in the docks of
Carthage, but the idea did not at all commend itself to him. The harbour
was not actually blockaded--Roman seamanship was hardly equal to
maintaining a blockade, which often means the imminent peril of lying
off a lee-shore--but it was pretty closely watched; the sea in the
neighbourhood was patrolled by Roman ships, and the chances were at
least equal that a Carthaginian galley would be challenged and brought
to bay before it could reach Europe, and more than likely that if so
challenged it would be captured. Some kind of disguise seemed to be far
more promising of safety, and the more obscure the disguise the better
the promise.
A little fleet of vessels was about to sail from one of the coast
villages for the autumn tunny-fishing, and Cleanor resolved to embark on
one of them. It had been one of his boyish delights to spend a few days
from time to time at sea, and he had a long-standing acquaintance, which
might almost have been called a friendship, with the veteran master of
one of these craft. The tunny-fishing had always been too long an affair
for the lad, who had his duties at home to attend to. The boats were
about a month or more from home if the shoals had to be followed far,
for the tunny is a fish that lives mostly in deep water. But there was a
standing engagement that some day or other, when he happened to have
leisure sufficient, the thing was to be done. Syphax--this was the old
fisherman's name--knew nothing about his visitor except that he was a
merry, companionable lad who had a sufficient command of gold pieces.
To politics he paid no attention whatever. If there was war, it made no
difference to him except, possibly, to increase the market for his
tunnies, and raise the price. Romans and Carthaginians agreed in liking
his wares; if they paid honestly for them, it did not matter to the
fisherman what they did in other matters.
When, therefore, two or three days after his visit to Hasdrubal's camp,
the Greek knocked at the door of Syphax's little house by the sea, he
received a hearty welcome, and was asked no inconvenient questions.
"You're just in time, young sir," cried the old man, "if you are come
for the tunnies. We start at sunset, and, if we have luck, we shall be
among them by dawn to-morrow. Just now the shoals are pretty near, and
we may catch a boat-load before the new moon--it is just full to-day.
But you are not in a hurry, I hope, if we should have to go further
afield."
"All right, Syphax!" replied Cleanor. "I shall be able to see it through
this time."
The old man, who had, indeed, the experience of sixty years to draw
from, was quite right in his prediction that they would find themselves
among the tunnies at dawn. They had been able to get over a considerable
distance during the night. At first their progress had been slow, for it
was a dead calm, and the sweeps had to be used. About midnight, when
they were well out of the shelter of the land, a light breeze from the
south sprang up. The broad lateen sail was gladly hoisted, and the
little craft sped gaily along, making, with the wind due aft, some six
or seven miles an hour. Cleanor, who had fallen asleep shortly after
midnight, not a little fatigued by the share which he had insisted on
taking in the rowing, was awakened, after what seemed to him five
minutes of slumber, by the captain.
"See," cried the old man, "there they are yonder. Thanks to Dagon, we
have got among them quite as soon as I hoped."
And sure enough, about three hundred yards off, just in a line with the
sun, which was beginning to lift a crimson disk out of the sea, the
water seemed positively alive with fish, little and big. The tunnies had
got among a shoal of sardines, and were busy with the chase. Every now
and then some score of small fry would throw themselves wildly out of
the water to escape their pursuer; behind them the water swirled with
the rush of some monster fish, whose great black fin might be discerned,
by a keen eye, just showing above the surface. Elsewhere, one of the
tunnies would leap bodily into the air, his silvery side gleaming in the
almost level rays of the rising sun. The sail had already been lowered,
and the sweeps, after some dozen strokes to give a little way to the
vessel in the right direction, had been shipped again. In another minute
the little craft had quietly glided into the middle of the shoal.
Cleanor, in spite of all the grave preoccupation of his mind, was still
young enough to enjoy the brisk scene which followed. There were two
ways of securing the fish: the harpoon was one; the hand-line was the
other, the hook being baited with a small fish or with a bit of
brilliant red cloth. Syphax and two of his sailors used the former.
Cleanor and the third sailor, a young man of about the same age, as
being not sufficiently expert with the harpoon, were furnished with
hand-lines.
The fun was fast and furious. At his very first shot the captain drove
his harpoon into the side of a huge tunny. So strong was the creature
that it positively towed the boat after it for a few minutes. This gave
to Cleanor's baited hook exactly the motion that was wanted. It was soon
seized with a force which jerked the line out of his hand, and would
infallibly have carried it away altogether, had it not been wound round
his leg, more, it must be confessed, by accident than by design.
A sharp struggle followed. For some time the fisherman seemed to get no
nearer to securing his fish. It would suffer itself to be drawn up a few
yards, and would then by a fierce rush recover and even increase its
distance. But the line was of a thickness and strength which allowed any
strain to be put upon it, and the hook was firmly fastened into the
leathery substance of the fish's mouth. The creature's only chance of
escape was that the tremendous jerks it gave might flatten the barb of
the hook. This did not happen, for Syphax took good care that all his
tackle should be of the very best quality, and, after a conflict of half
an hour, Cleanor had the satisfaction of seeing his prey turn helpless
and exhausted on to its side. He drew it up close to the vessel, glad
enough to give a little rest to his fingers, which were actually
bleeding with the friction of the line. A sailor put his fingers into
the animal's gills, and lifted it by a great effort over the gunwale. It
weighed a little more than a hundred pounds.
The sport continued till noon, only interrupted by a few short intervals
when the shoal moved away and had to be followed. By noon so many fish
had been secured that it became necessary to take measures for
preserving them. They were split open and cleaned. The choicest portions
were immersed in casks which held a liquid used for pickling; other
parts were salted lightly or thoroughly, according as they were intended
for speedy consumption or otherwise.
"You have brought us good luck," said Syphax to his guest, as they
shared the last meal after a day's hard work. "In all my experience--and
it goes back sixty years at least--I don't remember getting such sport
so soon. Another day or two of this and we shall have a full cargo, and
may go home again."
He had hardly spoken when his eye was caught by a strange appearance in
the water,--strange, that is, to Cleanor, but only too familiar and
intelligible to the old man.
"Ah!" he cried, "I thought that it was too good to last. Do you see that
eddy yonder? And look, there is the brute's back-fin."
"What is it?" asked Cleanor.
"A shark, of course," replied the old man. "They never bode any good to
anyone. Dagon only knows where we shall find the tunnies again. They
will be leagues away from here by sunrise to-morrow, and there is no
telling what way they will go. However, we have done pretty well, even
if we don't see them again this moon. To-night we will lie-to; it will
be time enough in the morning to decide what is to be done."
Cleanor had begun to fear that his experiment might turn out to be a
failure. Nothing, he knew, would induce the old man to sail another
league away from home when once his cargo had been completed.
Accordingly he had hailed the shark's appearance with delight as soon
as he comprehended what it meant, and now he turned to sleep with a
lighter heart.
Again did the old fisherman show himself a true prophet. The next
morning, and for many mornings afterwards, not a tunny was to be seen.
The weather, however, continued fine, and the little craft made its way
in a leisurely fashion towards the north-east, a sharp look-out being
kept by day, and, as far as was possible, by night, for the object of
pursuit.
Two days had passed in this way when masses of floating sea-weed and
flocks of gulls began to warn the captain that he was drawing near the
land.
"We have been on the wrong tack," he said to Cleanor, "and must put her
head about. We are more likely to find the fish in deep water than
here."
"Where are we, then?" asked the Greek.
"Almost within sight of Lilybaeum, as far as I can guess."
Cleanor felt that it was time to act. "Will you do me a favour?" he
said.
"Certainly," replied the old man, "if I possibly can."
"Well, then, put me ashore."
"That is easy enough, if I am not wrong in my guess as to our
whereabouts. How long do you want to stay? I should not like to lose
this fine weather. As for landing, I should have had to do that in any
case, for we are getting short of water."
"I don't want you to wait for me. Only land me and leave me."
"What! Tired of the business, I suppose. Well, we have been a long time
doing nothing, but we must come across the tunnies soon."
Cleanor, who was anxious above all things not to be thought to have any
serious object in view, allowed that the time did seem a little long. He
had friends and kinsfolk, too, in Sicily, he said, and it would be a
pity to lose the opportunity of paying them a visit. It was arranged,
accordingly, that he should be landed, and that the crew should
replenish their water-casks at the same time. He parted with his friends
on the best of terms. Two gold pieces to the captain and one to each of
the crew sent them away in great glee, singing his praises as the most
open-handed young sportsman that they had ever had to do with.
It is needless to relate in detail our hero's journey through Sicily. He
bought a stout young horse, one of the famous breed of Sicilian cobs, at
Agrigentum, near which place he had been landed, and reached Syracuse
without further adventure. At Syracuse he found a merchant vessel about
to start for Corinth, secured a berth in her, and reached that city
after a rapid and prosperous voyage.