ed, "dead before us."

Not until a few minutes later could Malchus make out the faint outline
through the driving mist. It was a lofty pile of rock standing by
itself.

"It is an island!" he exclaimed.

"It is Caralis," the pilot replied; "I know its outline well; we are
already in the bay. Look to the right, you can make out the outline of
the cliffs at its mouth, we have passed it already. You do not see the
shore ahead because the rock on which Caralis stands rises from a level
plain, and to the left a lagoon extends for a long way in; it is there
that the Roman galleys ride. The gods have brought us to the only spot
along the coast where we could approach it with a hope of safety."

"There is not much to rejoice at," Malchus said; "we may escape the sea,
but only to be made prisoners by the Romans."

"Nay, Malchus, the alternative is not so bad," a young officer who was
standing next to him said. "Hannibal has thousands of Roman prisoners in
his hands, and we may well hope to be exchanged. After the last twelve
hours any place on shore, even a Roman prison, is an elysium compared to
the sea."

The outline of the coast was now clearly visible. The great rock of
Caralis, now known as Cagliari, rose dark and threatening, the low
shores of the bay on either side were marked by a band of white foam,
while to the left of the rock was the broad lagoon, dotted with the
black hulls of a number of ships and galleys rolling and tossing
heavily, for as the wind blew straight into the bay the lagoon was
covered with short, angry waves.

The pilot now ordered the oars to be got out. The entrance to the lagoon
was wide, but it was only in the middle that the channel was deep, and
on either side of this long breakwaters of stone were run out from the
shore, to afford a shelter to the shipping within. The sea was so rough
that it was found impossible to use the oars, and they were again
laid in and a small sail was hoisted. This enabled the head to be laid
towards the entrance of the lagoon. For a time it was doubtful whether
the galley could make it, but she succeeded in doing so, and then ran
straight on towards the upper end of the harbour.

"That is far enough," the pilot said presently; "the water shoals fast
beyond. We must anchor here."

The sail was lowered, the oars got out on one side, and the head of the
galley brought to the wind. The anchor was then dropped. As the storm
beaten galley ran right up the lagoon