Callias: A Tale of the Fall of Athens

by Alfred John Church

  CHAPTER XII.

  THE VOYAGE OF THE SKYLARK.

  It was not long before Callias recovered his consciousness; but he wasso worn out by excitement and fatigue, coming as they did after theexhausting emotions through which he had passed since the death of thegenerals, that he found it impossible to rouse himself to any exertion.The yacht, which as my readers will have guessed was that excellentsea-boat the _Skylark_, had never been in any danger, though she had hadto be very skillfully handled while she was engaged in picking up theswimmers. This task accomplished, her head was put northward, and beforevery long she had gained the shelter of Euboea. Callias guessed asmuch when he found that she ceased to roll, and gladly resigned himselfto the slumber against which he had hitherto done his best to struggle.He slept late into the morning; indeed it wanted only an hour of noonwhen at last he opened his eyes. The first object that they fell uponwas the figure of Hippocles, who was sitting by the side of his berth.

  "Then it was not a dream," said the young man. "I thought I saw yourdaughter on board last night, but could not believe my eyes."

  "Yes, she is on board," said Hippocles, with a slight smile playingabout the corners of his mouth.

  "But tell me what it all means. I was seized in the streets of Athens,pinioned, blindfolded, and gagged. I was carried off I know not where,thrown into a boat, as nearly as possible drowned, and now, when I cometo myself, I see you. Surely I have a right to ask what it means."

  "My dear Callias," replied Hippocles, "I have always tried to be yourfriend, as it was my priviledge to be your father's before you. You willallow so much?"

  "Certainly," said the young man. "I shall never forget how much I oweyou."

  "Well, then, trust me for an hour. I will not ask you to do anythingmore. If you are not fully satisfied then, I will make you any redressthat you may demand. I know that you have a right to ask for it. Iknow," he added with an air of proud humility that sat very well uponhim, "that Hippocles the Alien is asking a great favor when he makessuch a request of Callias the Eupatrid,[42] but believe me I do not askit without a reason."

  The young Athenian could do nothing else than consent to a request soreasonable. Some irritation he felt, for there was no doubt in his mindthat Hippocles had had something to do with the violence to which he hadbeen subjected. The intention, however, had been manifestly friendly,and there might be something to tell which would change annoyance intogratitude.

  A sailor now brought him some refreshment, and when this had beendisposed of, another furnished him with some clothing. His own, it willbe remembered, he had thrown away, when preparing to swim for his life.His toilet completed, he came up on deck and found Hippocles and hisdaughter seated near the stern. Both rose to greet him. He could notfail to observe that Hermione was pale and agitated. The frankfriendliness of her old manner, which, blended as it had been with aperfect maidenly modesty, had been inexpressibly charming, haddisappeared. She was now timid and hesitating. She could not lift hereyes when she acknowleged his greeting. He could even see that shetrembled.

  The young man stood astonished and perplexed. What was this strangereserve of which he had never before seen a trace? Was there anything inhimself that had caused it? Had he--so he asked himself, being a modestyoung fellow and ready to lay the blame on his own shoulders--had hegiven any offence?

  "Tell him the story, father," she said, after an anxious pause duringwhich her agitation manifestly increased, "tell him the story. I feelthat I cannot speak."

  "My little girl has a confession to make. In a word, it is her doingthat you are here to-day."

  "Her doing that I am here to-day," echoed Callias, his astonishmentgiving a certain harshness to his voice.

  The girl burst into tears. Callias stepped forward, and would havecaught her hand. She drew back.

  "Tell him, father, tell him all," she whispered again in an agitatedvoice.

  "Well then," said her father, "if I must confess your misdeeds, I willspeak. You know," he went on addressing himself to the young Athenian,"you know how we vainly sought to persuade you to leave Athens. I had abetter and stronger reason for speaking as I did than I could tell you.From private information, the source of which I could not divulge, ifyou had asked it, as you probably would have done, I had found out thatyou were in the most serious danger. Not only were you to bearrested--so much you know--but having been arrested, you were to be putout of the way. You talked of answering for yourself before theassembly, even of accusing your enemies and the men who murdered yourfriends. You never would have had the chance. There are diseasesstrangely sudden and fatal to which prisoners are liable, and there wasonly too much reason to fear that you would be attacked by one of them.There are other poisons, you know, besides the hemlock, which the stateadministers to the condemned, and an adverse verdict is not alwayswanted before they are given. Well; we were at our wits' end. You wereobstinate--pardon me for using the word--and I would not tell you thewhole truth. Even if I had, it was doubtful, in the temper of mind youwere in, whether you would have believed me. Then Hermione here came tothe rescue. 'We must save him,' she cried, 'against his will.' 'How canwe do that?' I asked; and I assure you that I had not the least idea ofwhat she meant. 'You must contrive to carry him off to some safe place.'I was astonished. 'What!' I said, 'a free citizen of Athens.' 'What willthat help him, with the men who are plotting to take his life?' sheanswered. Then she told me her plan. I need not describe it to you. Itwas carried out exactly. Now can you forgive her?"

  "Oh! lady"--the young man began.

  "Stop a moment," cried Hippocles. "I have something more to say, beforeyou pronounce your judgment. You must take into account that if she haserred, she has already suffered."

  "Oh! father," interrupted the girl, "it is enough; say nothing more. Iam ready to bear the blame."

  And she sank back into her seat and covered her face with her mantle.

  Hippocles went on: "I say she has suffered. We did not reckon on thatunlucky wind. It was bad enough to have carried you off against yourwill; but when it seemed that we might drown you as well, that lookedserious. I was not much afraid, myself. I felt pretty sure that weshould be able to pick you up. But still there was a chance of somethinggoing wrong. And she, of course, felt responsible for it all. It wastrue that it was the only way of saving you--that, I swear by Zeus andAthene, and all the gods above and below, is the simple, literalfact--but still, I must own, it was a trying moment, and if anything_had_ happened--Then you were the last to be picked up, and just at thelast moment, something went wrong. The clumsy fellow at the helm--Iought to have been there myself, but I wanted to help in getting you onboard--the clumsy fellow at the helm, I say, gave us a wrong turn. Weshould have had a world of trouble in bringing the _Skylark_ aboutagain. Hermione saw it, sprang to the tiller, and put things right--Ihave always taught her how to steer. So you really owe her something forthat. I don't exactly say that she saved your life, but you might havebeen in the water a little longer than you liked. Well, it was trying tothe poor girl. I can imagine how she felt; but she bore up till we gotyou on board. Then she fainted; for the very first time in her life, Igive you my word, for she is not given to that sort of thing. Now, say,can you forgive her and us? We really did it for the best, and thanks toPoseidon, it has ended pretty well, so far, after all."

  "This is no case for forgiveness," cried the young Athenian earnestly;"it is a case of gratitude which I shall never exhaust as long as Ilive. I am a headstrong young fool, a silly child, in fact, and you werequite right in dealing with me as grown people must deal with a child,help it and do it good against its will. Forgive me, lady," he went on,and kneeling before her chair, he took one of her hands in his own, andcarried it to his lips.

  So far all was well. A bold achievement had ended happily, but thesituation was a little strained, to use a common phrase, and Callias,like the well bred gentleman that he was, felt that it would be a reliefto the girl if it was brought to an end. Happily, too, at that momen
tthe ludicrous side of the affair struck him, and it was without anyaffectation that he sprang to his feet and burst into a hearty laugh.

  "And now that you have captured me," he said, "what is your pleasure?What are you going to do with me?"

  "You shall go where you please," said Hippocles. "Even if you want toreturn to Athens I will not hinder you. But my plan is this, subject ofcourse, to your consent. Come with me as far as Thasus. I have businessthere, to look after my vineyard, or rather the vintage. My people, Ifind, are sadly apt to blunder about it. This will take me no littletime, and while I am engaged there, the _Skylark_ shall take you on toAlcibiades' castle in Thrace. I was going to say that I would commendyou to him. But that will not be necessary. He is, you know, a distantkinsman, and is hospitality itself. In my judgment he has had hardusage. It would have been better for Athens, if she had trusted himmore. But all that is past. Meanwhile I think that his castle is thesafest place for you just now. You and he are very much in the samecase, I fancy. Athens has not treated either of you fairly and yet youwish well to her."

  "Your plan seems a good one," replied Callias, "let me think it over fora few hours. Anyhow you shall have my company as far as Thasus, if youwill accept it."

  Meanwhile the _Skylark_ was making headway gaily through thewell-sheltered waters that lie between Euboea and the mainland ofGreece. When the shelter ceased the wind had fallen, shifting at thesame time to the south-west. Nearly two hundred miles had yet to betraversed before Thasus could be sighted, and this was accomplishedwithout accident or delay. The time of year was later than a Greekseaman commonly chose for a voyage of any duration, for it was thelatter end of October, and the ninth of November was the extreme limitof the sailing season.[43] Hippocles, however, was more venturesome inthis way than most of his contemporaries, and his confidence wasrewarded by a most pleasant and prosperous voyage. So blue were thecloudless skies, so deep the answering color of the seas, that it wasonly when the travellers saw the sunset tints on the forest-clad ridgeof Thasus--"the ass's back-bone laden with wood," as it wascalled--that they remembered that summer had long since given place toautumn.

  Two days were spent in a visit to the vineyard which Hippocles had cometo inspect, and then Callias, who had soon concluded to follow hisfriend's advice, resumed his voyage. The course of the _Skylark_ was nowsouth-easterly. The voyage had all the interest of novelty for him, forhe had never before visited these waters. When the _Skylark_ started atearly dawn there was a mist which contracted the horizon. As thiscleared away under the increasing power of the sun the striking peak ofSamothrace became visible in the distance. All day its bold outlinesbecame more and more clearly defined. On the following morning--for thegood ship pursued her course all night--it had been left behind, butanother height, not less striking in appearance, and even moreinteresting in its associations, the snow-capped Ida, at whose feet laythe world-famed Trojan plains, took its place. As evening fell the_Skylark_ was brought to land at the western end of the Hellespont, therapid current of which could be better encountered by the rowers whenthey had been refreshed by a night's rest. Progress was now somewhatslow; and it was on the afternoon of the fourth day after the start fromThasus that the cliffs of Bisanthe and the northern shore of thePropontis came in sight. This was our hero's destination, for it washere that Alcibiades, after quitting Athens in the previous year, hadfixed his abode.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [42] The Eupatridae were the old aristocracy of Athens. Under the earlyconstitution they were the ruling castae, and they always retained themonopoly of certain religious offices.

  [43] "The seas are closed," says Vegetius in his treatise _De ReMilitari_, "from the ninth of November to the tenth of March."