ull-necked and swarthy, clad
in some dusky cloth which gave him a sombre appearance relieved only by
the vivid scarlet of his woollen cap. His manner towards his comrade was
one of deference, and yet there was in it also something of that
freshness and frankness which go with common dangers and a common
interest.

"Be not impatient, sire," he was saying. "Give me two days, or three at
the most, and we shall make as brave a show at the muster as any. But,
indeed, they would smile if they saw us crawl up to Tenedos with ten
missing oars and the mainsail blown into rags."

The other frowned and stamped his foot with anger.

"We should have been there now had it not been for this cursed
mischance," said he. "Aeolus played us a pretty trick when he sent such
a blast out of a cloudless sky."

"Well, sire, two of the Cretan galleys foundered, and Trophimes, the
pilot, swears that one of the Argos ships was in trouble. Pray Zeus that
it was not the galley of Menelaus. We shall not be the last at the
muster."

"It is well that Troy stands a good ten miles from the sea, for if they
came out at us with a fleet they might have us at a disadvantage. We had
no choice but to come here and refit, yet I shall have no happy hour
until I see the white foam from the lash of our oars once more. Go,
Seleucas, and speed them all you may."

The officer bowed and departed, while the chieftain stood with his eyes
fixed upon his great dismantled galley over which the riggers and
carpenters were swarming. Further out in the roadstead lay eleven other
smaller galleys, waiting until their wounded flagship should be ready
for them. The sun, as it shone upon them, gleamed upon hundreds of
bronze helmets and breastplates, telling of the warlike nature of the
errand upon which they were engaged. Save for them the port was filled
with bustling merchant ships taking in cargoes or disgorging them upon
the quays. At the very feet of the Greek chieftain three broad barges
were moored, and gangs of labourers with wooden shovels were heaving out
the mussels brought from Dor, destined to supply the famous Tyrian
dye-works which adorn the most noble of all garments. Beside them was a
tin ship from Britain, and the square boxes of that precious metal, so
needful for the making of bronze, were being passed from hand to hand to
the waiting waggons. The Greek found himself smiling at the uncouth
wonder of a Cornishman who had come with his tin, and who was no