nis, in Libya. Here
they were overcome by want and exhaustion, but Triton, the god of the
region, proved hospitable, and supplied them with the much-needed food
and rest. Thus refreshed, they launched their ship once more on the
Mediterranean and proceeded hopefully on their homeward way.

Stopping at the island of AEaea, its queen Circe--she who had transformed
the companions of Ulysses into swine--purified Medea from the crime of
murder; and at Corcyra, which they next reached, the marriage of Jason
and Medea took place. The cavern in that island where the wedding was
solemnized was still pointed out in historical times.

After leaving Corcyra a fierce storm threatened the navigators with
shipwreck, from which they were miraculously saved by the celestial aid
of the god Apollo. An arrow shot from his golden bow crossed the billows
like a track of light, and where it pierced the waves an island sprang
up, on whose shores the imperilled mariners found a port of refuge. On
this island, Anaphe by name, the grateful Argonauts built an altar to
Apollo and instituted sacrifices in his honor.

Another adventure awaited them on the coast of Crete. This island was
protected by a brazen sentinel, named Talos, wrought by Vulcan, and
presented by him to King Minos to protect his realm. This living man of
brass hurled great rocks at the vessel, and destruction would have
overwhelmed the voyagers but for Medea. Talos, like all the
invulnerable men of legend, had his one weak point. This her magic art
enabled her to discover, and, as Paris had wounded Achilles in the heel,
Medea killed this vigilant sentinel by striking him in his vulnerable
spot.

The Argonauts now landed and refreshed themselves. In the island of
AEgina they had to fight to procure water. Then they sailed along the
coasts of Euboea and Locris, and finally entered the gulf of Pagasae
and dropped anchor at Iolceus, their starting-point.

As to what became of the ship Argo there are two stories. One is that
Jason consecrated his vessel to Neptune on the isthmus of Corinth.
Another is that Minerva translated it to the stars, where it became a
constellation.

So ends the story of this earliest of recorded voyages, whose possible
substratum of fact is overlaid deeply with fiction, and whose geography
is similarly a strange mixture of fact and fancy. Yet though the voyage
is at an end, our story is not. We have said that it was a tragedy, and
the denouement of the