able has been put on land. There is
merrymaking and thanksgiving, and every man is embracing his fellow. Our
crew has returned unscathed, without loss to our soldiers. We have
reached the end of Wawat, we have passed Bigeh. Yes, indeed, we have
returned safely; we have reached our own land."

At this the prince seems to have groaned anew, much to the distress of
his friend, who could but urge him to pull himself together and to play
the man.

"Listen to me, prince," he begged, "for I am one void of exaggeration.
Wash yourself, pour water on your fingers."

The wretched, man replied, it would seem, with a repetition of his
fears; whereupon the old sailor seems to have sat down by his side and
to have given him a word of advice as to how he should behave in the
king's presence. "Make answer when you are addressed," he said; "speak
to the king with a heart in you; answer without restraint. For it is a
man's mouth that saves him.... But do as you will: to talk to you is
wearisome (to you)."

Presently the old sailor was seized with an idea. He would tell a story,
no matter whether it were strictly true or not, in which his own
adventures should be set forth. He would describe how he was wrecked
upon an unknown island, how he was saved from death, and how, on his
return, he conducted into the Pharaoh's presence. A narration of his own
experiences before his sovereign might give heart to his captain, and
might effectually lift the intolerable burden of dread from the princely
shoulders.

"I will relate to you," he began, "a similar thing which befell me my
very self. I was making a journey to the mines of the sovereign ..."

The prince may here be supposed to have sat up and given gloomy
attention to his friend's words, for Egyptians of all ages have loved a
good story, and tales of adventures in the south were, in early times,
most acceptable. The royal gold mines referred to were probably situated
at the southern-most end of the eastern Egyptian desert. To reach them
one would take ship from Kossair or some other Red Sea port, sail down
the coast to the frontiers of Pount, the modern Somaliland, and then
travel inland by caravan. It was a perilous undertaking, and, at the
time when this story was written, the journey must have furnished
material for amazing yarns.

"I went down on the Great Green Sea," continued the speaker, "in a ship
one hundred and fifty cubits[1] in length and forty cubits in breadth,
and in it