rink," he said, "and
let not your heart feel apprehension. You shall hear all that I have to
say in the morning." At this Wenamon roused himself, and, wiping his
eyes, consented to be led back to his rooms, ever turning, no doubt, to
cast nervous glances in the direction of the silent ships of Dor.

On the following morning the prince sent for the leaders of the
Sicilians and asked them for what reason they had come to Byblos. They
replied that they had come in search of Wenamon, who had robbed some of
their countrymen of thirty-one debens of silver. The prince was placed
in a difficult position, for he was desirous to avoid giving offence
either to Dor or to Egypt from whence he now expected further payment;
but he managed to pass out on to clearer ground by means of a simple
stratagem.

"I cannot arrest the envoy of Amon in my territory," he said to the men
of Dor. "But I will send him away, and you shall pursue him and arrest
him."

The plan seems to have appealed to the sporting instincts of the
Sicilians, for it appears that they drew off from the harbour to await
their quarry. Wenamon was then informed of the scheme, and one may
suppose that he showed no relish for it. To be chased across a bilious
sea by sporting men of hardened stomach was surely a torture for the
damned; but it is to be presumed that Zakar-Baal left the Egyptian some
chance of escape. Hastily he was conveyed on board a ship, and his
misery must have been complete when he observed that outside the harbour
it was blowing a gale. Hardly had he set out into the "Great Syrian Sea"
before a terrific storm burst, and in the confusion which ensued we lose
sight of the waiting fleet. No doubt the Sicilians put in to Byblos once
more for shelter, and deemed Wenamon at the bottom of the ocean as the
wind whistled through their own bare rigging.

The Egyptian had planned to avoid his enemies by beating northwards when
he left the harbour, instead of southwards towards Egypt; but the
tempest took the ship's course into its own hands and drove the frail
craft north-westwards towards Cyprus, the wooded shores of which were,
in course of time, sighted. Wenamon was now indeed 'twixt the devil and
the deep sea, for behind him the waves raged furiously, and before him
he perceived a threatening group of Cypriots awaiting him upon the
wind-swept shore. Presently the vessel grounded upon the beach, and
immediately the ill-starred Egyptian and the entire crew we