Chapter 12
“From the flowing waters of the River of Ocean my ship passed into the wide spaces of the open sea, and so reached Aeaea, the Island of the Rising Sun, where tender Dawn has her home and her dancing-lawns. Here we beached her on the sands and climbed out onto the sea-shore, where we fell into a sound sleep that lasted till daybreak.”
“At the first sight of Dawn’s red streamers in the East, I sent off a party to Circe’s house to fetch the dead body of Elpenor. We quickly hewed some billets of wood, and then, with the tears streaming down our cheeks, gave him solemn burial on the summit of the boldest headland of the coast. When the corpse was burnt, and with it the dead man’s arms, we built him a barrow, hauled up a stone for monument, and planted his shapely oar on the top of the mound.”
“We had just despatched the last details of our task, when Circe, who was well aware of our return from Hades and had decked herself out to meet us, came hurrying up with a train of servants laden with bread, a plentiful supply of meat, and sparkling ruddy wine.”
“ ‘What hardihood,’ said the goddess, as we gathered round her, ‘to descend alive into the House of Hades! One death is enough for most men; but you will now have two. However, forget these things, spend the rest of the day where you are, enjoying this food and wine, and at the first peep of dawn you shall sail. I myself will give you your route and make every landmark clear, to save you from the disasters you would suffer if you ran into the snares that may be laid for you on sea or land.’ ”
“We were not difficult to persuade. So the whole day long till sunset we sat and feasted on our rich supply of meat washed down by mellow wine. When the sun sank and darkness fell, my men settled down for the night by the hawsers of the ship; but Circe took me by the hand, led me away from my good friends, and made me sit down and tell her all my news as she lay beside me. When I had given her the whole tale from first to last, the goddess said:
‘Very well; all that is done with now. But listen while I tell you what follows – and the gods themselves will see that my words keep fresh in your mind. Your next encounter will be with the Sirens, who bewitch everybody that approaches them. There is no home-coming for the man who draws near them unawares and hears the Sirens’ voices; no welcome from his wife, no little children brightening at their father’s return. For with the music of their song the Sirens cast their spell upon him, as they sit there in a meadow piled high with the mouldering skeletons of men, whose withered skin still hangs upon their bones. Drive your ship past the spot, and to prevent any of your crew from hearing, soften some beeswax and plug their ears with it. But if you wish to listen yourself, make them bind you hand and foot on board and stand you up by the step of the mast, with the rope’s ends lashed to the mast itself. This will allow you to listen with enjoyment to the twin Sirens’ voices. But if you start begging your men to release you, they must add to the bonds that already hold you fast.
‘When your crew have carried you past this danger, you will have reached a point beyond which I cannot fully guide you. Two ways will lie before you, and you must choose between them as you see fit, though I will tell you both. One leads to those sheer cliffs which the blessed gods know as the Wandering Rocks. Here blue-eyed Amphitrite sends her great breakers thundering in, and the very birds cannot fly by in safety. Even from the shy doves that bring ambrosia to Father Zeus the beetling rock takes toll each time they pass, and the Father has to send one more to make their number up; while for such sailors as bring their ship to the spot, there is no escape whatever. They end as flotsam on the sea, timbers and corpses tossed in confusion by the waves or licked up by tempestuous and destroying flames. Of all ships that go down to the sea one only has made the passage, and that was the celebrated Argo, homeward bound from Aeetes’ coast. And she would soon have been dashed upon those mighty crags, if Here, for love of Jason, had not helped her past.
‘In the other direction lie two rocks, the higher of which rears its sharp peak up to the very sky and is capped by black clouds that never stream away nor leave clear weather round the top, even in summer or at harvest-time. No man on earth could climb it, up or down, not even with twenty hands and feet to help him; for the rock is as smooth as if it had been polished. But half-way up the crag there is a misty cavern, facing the West and running down to Erebus, past which, my lord Odysseus, you must steer your ship. The strongest bowman could not reach the gaping mouth of the cave with an arrow shot from a ship below. It is the home of Scylla, the creature with the dreadful bark. It is true that her yelp is no louder than a new-born pup’s, but she is a horrible monster nevertheless, and one whom nobody could look at with delight, not even a god if he passed that way. She has twelve feet, all dangling in the air, and six long necks, each ending in a grisly head with triple rows of teeth, set thick and close, and darkly menacing death. Up to her middle she is sunk in the depths of the cave, but her heads protrude from the fearful abyss, and thus she fishes from her own abode, scouting around the rock for any dolphin or swordfish she may catch, or any of the larger monsters which in their thousands find their living in the roaring seas. No crew can boast that they ever sailed their ship past Scylla without loss, since from every passing vessel she snatches a man with each of her heads and so bears off her prey.
‘The other of the two rocks is lower, as you, Odysseus, will see, and the distance between them is no more than a bowshot. A great fig-tree with luxuriant foliage grows upon the crag, and it is below this that the dreaded Charybdis sucks the dark waters down. Three times a day she spews them up, and three times she swallows them down once more in her horrible way. Heaven keep you from the spot when she is at her work, for not even the Earth-shaker could save you from disaster. No; you must hug Scylla’s rock and with all speed drive your ship through, since it is far better that you should have to mourn the loss of six of your company than that of your whole crew.’ ”
“ ‘Yes, goddess,’ I replied, ‘but there is more I wish to know. Could I not somehow steer clear of the terrors of Charybdis, yet tackle Scylla when she comes at my crew?’ ”
“But the goddess only cried out at me as an obstinate fool, always spoiling for a fight and welcoming trouble. ‘So you are not prepared,’ she said, ‘to give in even to immortal gods? I tell you, Scylla was not born for death: the fiend will live for ever. She is a thing to shun, intractable, ferocious, and impossible to fight. No; against her there is no defence, and valour lies in flight. For if you waste time by the rock in putting on your armour, I am only afraid she may dart out once more, catch you again with all six heads and snatch another half-dozen of your crew. So drive your ship past with all your might, and call on Cratais, Scylla’s mother, who brought her into the world to prey on men. She will prevent her from making a second sally.’
‘Your next landfall will be the island of Thrinacie, where the Sun-god pastures his large herds and well-fed sheep. There are seven herds of cattle and as many flocks of beautiful sheep, with fifty head in each. These animals were not born into the world nor are they subject to a natural death. And to shepherd them they have goddesses, the lovely Nymphs, Phaethusa and Lampetie, children of Hyperion the Sun-god by the divine Neaera, whom their mother, when she had brought them up, carried off to this new and distant home in Thrinacie to watch over their father’s sheep and fatted cattle. Now if you leave these animals untouched and fix your mind on getting home, there is some chance that all of you may yet reach Ithaca, though not in comfort. But if you hurt them, then I swear to you that your ship and your company will be destroyed. And if you yourself contrive to escape, you will come home late, in evil plight, with all your comrades lost.’ ”
“As Circe came to an end, Dawn took her golden throne. The gracious goddess left me and made her way inland, while I went to my ship and ordered my men to embark and loose the hawsers. They did so promptly, went to the benches, sat down in their places and struck the grey surf with their oars. Then the fair Circe, that formidable goddess with a woman’s voice, sent us the friendly escort of a favourable wind, which sprang up from astern and filled the sail of our blue-painted ship. We set the tackle in order fore and aft and then sat down, while the wind and the helmsman kept her on her course.”
“I was much perturbed in spirit and before long took my men into my confidence. ‘My friends,’ I said, ‘it is not right that only one or two of us should know the prophecies that Circe, in her divine wisdom, has made to me, and I am going to pass them on to you, so that we may all be forewarned, whether we die or escape the worst and save our lives. Her first warning concerned the mysterious Sirens. We must beware of their song and give their flowery meadow a wide berth. I alone, she suggested, might listen to their voices; but you must bind me hard and fast, so that I cannot stir from the spot where you will stand me, by the step of the mast, with the rope’s ends lashed round the mast itself. And if I beg you to release me, you must tighten and add to my bonds.’ ”
“I thus explained every detail to my men. In the meantime our good ship, with that perfect wind to drive her, fast approached the Sirens’ Isle. But now the breeze dropped, some power lulled the waves, and a breathless calm set in. Rising from their seats my men drew in the sail and threw it into the hold, then sat down at the oars and churned the water white with their blades of polished pine. Meanwhile I took a large round of wax, cut it up small with my sword, and kneaded the pieces with all the strength of my fingers. The wax soon yielded to my vigorous treatment and grew warm, for I had the rays of my Lord the Sun to help me. I took each of my men in turn and plugged their ears with it. They then made me a prisoner on my ship by binding me hand and foot, standing me up by the step of the mast and tying the rope’s ends to the mast itself. This done, they sat down once more and struck the grey water with their oars.”
“We made good progress and had just come within call of the shore when the Sirens became aware that a ship was swiftly bearing down upon them, and broke into their liquid song.”
“ ‘Draw near,’ they sang, ‘illustrious Odysseus, flower of Achaean chivalry, and bring your ship to rest so that you may hear our voices. No seaman ever sailed his black ship past this spot without listening to the sweet tones that flow from our lips, and none that listened has not been delighted and gone on a wiser man. For we know all that the Argives and Trojans suffered on the broad plain of Troy by the will of the gods, and we have fore-knowledge of all that is going to happen on this fruitful earth.’ ”
“The lovely voices came to me across the water, and my heart was filled with such a longing to listen that with nod and frown I signed to my men to set me free. But they swung forward to their oars and rowed ahead, while Perimedes and Eurylochus jumped up, tightened my bonds and added more. However, when they had rowed past the Sirens and we could no longer hear their voices and the burden of their song, my good companions were quick to clear their ears of the wax I had used to stop them, and to free me from my shackles.”
“We had no sooner put this island behind us than I saw a cloud of smoke ahead and a raging surf, the roar of which I could already hear. My men were so terrified that the oars all dropped from their grasp and fell with a splash in the wash of the ship; while the ship herself, now that the hands that had pulled the long blades were idle, was brought to a standstill. I made a tour of the vessel, and with a soothing word for each man I tried to put heart into my company.”
“ ‘My friends,’ I said, ‘we are men who have met trouble before. And I cannot see that we are faced here by anything worse than when the Cyclops used his brutal strength to imprison us in his cave. Yet my courage and presence of mind found a way out for us even from there; and I am sure that this too will be a memory for us one day. So now I appeal to you all to do exactly as I say. Oarsmen, stick to your benches, striking hard with your blades through the broken water, and we may have the luck to slip by and for once avoid disaster. Helmsman, your orders are these. Get them by heart, for the good ship’s steering-oar is under your control. Give a wide berth to that smoke and surf you see, and hug these cliffs, or before you can stop her the ship may take it into her head to make a dash over there and you’ll wreck us.’ ”
“The crew obeyed me readily enough. Trouble from Scylla seemed inevitable, so I did not mention her, fearing that in their panic my men might stop rowing and hide in the hold. But now I allowed myself to forget Circe’s irksome injunction not to arm myself in any way. I put my fine harness on, seized a couple of long spears, and took my stand on the forecastle deck, hoping from that post to get the first view of Scylla, the monster of the rocks, who wrought such havoc on my crew. But I could not catch a glimpse of her anywhere, though I searched the sombre face of the cliff in every part till my eyes were tired.”
“Thus we sailed up the straits, groaning in terror, for on the one side we had Scylla, while on the other the mysterious Charybdis sucked down the salt sea water in her dreadful way. When she vomited it up, she was stirred to her depths and seethed over like a cauldron on a blazing fire; and the spray she flung on high rained down on the tops of the crags at either side. But when she swallowed the salt water down, the whole interior of her vortex was exposed, the rocks re-echoed to her fearful roar, and the dark sands of the sea bottom came into view.”
“My men turned pale with fear; and now, while all eyes were fixed on Charybdis and the quarter from which we looked for disaster, Scylla snatched out of my boat the six ablest hands I had on board. I swung round, to glance at the ship and run my eye over the crew, just in time to see the arms and legs of her victims dangled high in the air above my head. ‘Odysseus!’ they called out to me in their agony. But it was the last time they used my name. For like an angler on a jutting point, who with a long rod casts his ox-horn lure into the sea as bait for the little fish below, gets a bite, and whips his struggling prize to land, Scylla had whisked my comrades up and swept them struggling to the rocks, where she devoured them at her own door, shrieking and stretching out their hands to me in their last desperate throes. In all I have gone through as I made my way across the seas, I have never had to witness a more pitiable sight than that.”
“From the peril of the Rocks, from Scylla, and from the terrors of Charybdis we had now escaped; and it was not long before we reached the Sun-god’s favoured isle, where Hyperion kept his splendid broad-browed cattle and his flocks of sturdy sheep. From where I was on board, right out at sea, I could hear the lowing of cows as they were stalled for the night, and the bleating of sheep. And there came into my mind the words of Teiresias, the blind Theban prophet, and of Circe of Aeaea, who had each been so insistent in warning me to avoid this Island of the Sun, the comfort of mankind. So in spite of my own disappointment I decided to inform the others.”
“ ‘My men,’ I said, ‘forget your troubles for a moment, and listen to me while I tell you of the oracles I had from Teiresias and Circe of Aeaea. They warned me repeatedly to keep clear of the Island of the Sun, the comfort of mankind, for there, they said, our deadliest peril lurks. So drive the ship past and put the island astern.’ ”
“My men were heart-broken when they heard this, and Eurylochus weighed in at once in a truculent vein. ‘Odysseus,’ he said, ‘you are one of those hard men whose spirit never flags and whose body never tires. You must be made of iron through and through to forbid your men, worn out by labour and by lack of sleep, to set foot on dry land, with the chance of cooking themselves a cheerful supper on this sea-girt isle. Instead, you expect us, just as we are, to go blindly on through the night that is overtaking us and put leagues of fog and sea between the island and ourselves. What of the high winds that spring up at night and do such harm to shipping? What port could we make to save ourselves from foundering, if we were hit by a sudden squall from the south or the west? There’s nothing like the South Wind or the wicked West for smashing up a ship. And they don’t ask leave of our lords the gods! No, let us take our cue now from the evening dusk and cook our supper. We won’t stray from the ship, and in the morning we can get on board once more and put out into the open sea.’ ”
“This speech of Eurylochus was greeted by applause from all the rest, and it was brought home to me now that heaven really had some calamity in store for us. I answered him gravely: ‘Eurylochus, I am one against many, and you force my hand. Very well. But I call on every man of you to give me his solemn promise that if we come across a herd of cattle or some great flock of sheep, he will not kill a head of either in a wanton fit of folly. Instead, you will sit in peace and eat the rations that the goddess Circe has provided.”
“The crew agreed and promised to abstain. Accordingly, when all had solemnly taken the oath, we brought the good ship to anchor in a sheltered cove, with fresh water at hand, and the men disembarked and proceeded to prepare their supper in the proper style. When they had satisfied their hunger and thirst, their thoughts returned to their dear comrades whom Scylla had snatched from the ship’s hold and devoured; and they wept for them till sweet sleep overtook them in their tears.”
“In the third watch of the night, when the stars had passed their zenith, Zeus the Cloud-gatherer sent us a gale of incredible violence. He covered land and sea with clouds, and in a moment the black sky had blotted out the world. So at the first peep of day we beached our ship and dragged her up into the shelter of a cave, a pleasant spot which the Nymphs used as a dancing-ground and meeting-place. I then ordered all my men to gather round, and gave them their warning. ‘My friends,’ I said, ‘since we have plenty of food and drink on board, let us keep our hands off these cattle, or we shall come to grief. For the cows and the fine sheep you have seen belong to that formidable god, the Sun, whose eyes and ears miss nothing in the world.’ ”
“My company accepted this with no sign of a rebellious spirit. And now for a whole month the South Wind blew without a pause, and after that we had nothing but southerly and easterly winds. The men, so long as their bread and red wine lasted, kept their hands off the cattle as they valued their lives. But when the provisions in the ship gave out and the pangs of hunger sent them wandering with barbed hooks in quest of game, fishes or birds, or anything that might come to hand, I went off inland to pray to the gods in the hope that one of them might show me a way of escape. When I had gone far enough across the island to be clear of the rest, I found a spot that was sheltered from the wind, washed my hands, and made my supplications to the whole company on Olympus. But all they did was to cast me into a pleasant sleep. And in the meantime Eurylochus was broaching a wicked scheme to his mates.”
“ ‘My poor long-suffering friends,’ he said, ‘listen to what I have to say. To us wretched men all forms of death are abominable, but death by starvation is the most miserable end that one can meet. So I suggest that we round up the best of the Sun’s cows and slaughter them in honour of the immortals who live in the broad sky. If ever we reach our homeland in Ithaca, our first act shall be to build Hyperion the Sun-god a rich temple and fill it with precious offerings. If, on the other hand, he shows annoyance at this treatment of his straight-homed herds and chooses to wreck our ship, with the other gods to back him, I would sooner make one gulp at the sea and give up the ghost than be pinched to death by slow degrees upon a desert isle.’ ”
“His ideas found favour with the rest, and they proceeded at once to round up the pick of the Sun’s cattle. They had not far to go, for the fine fatted cows with their broad foreheads were often to be seen at their pasture in the neighbourhood of our blue-prowed ship. The men gathered round the cattle and made their prayers to the gods, using for the ceremony some full-grown leaves they stripped from a tall oak-tree, since they had no white barley in the ship. Their prayers done, they slit the cows’ throats and flayed them, then cut out slices from the thighs, wrapped them in folds of fat and laid raw meat above them. And since they had no wine to pour over the burning sacrifice, they made libations with water as they roasted all the entrails. When the thighs were burnt up and they had tasted the inner parts, they carved the rest into small pieces and spitted them on skewers.”
“They had reached this point when I suddenly awoke from my deep sleep, and started on my way back to the vessel and the coast. Directly I came near my good ship the sweet smell of roasting meat was wafted to my nostrils. I exclaimed in horror and called on the immortal gods to hear me. ‘Father Zeus,’ I cried, ‘and you other blessed gods who live for ever! So it was to ruin me that you lulled me into that cruel sleep, while the men I left conceived and did this hideous thing!”
“The news that we had killed his cattle was promptly conveyed by Lampetie of the long robes to the Sun-god Hyperion; and he was quick to voice his outraged feelings to the immortals.”
“ ‘Father Zeus and you other happy gods who live for ever, I call on you to punish the followers of Odysseus son of Laertes. They have had the insolence to kill my cattle, the cattle that gave me such joy every day as I climbed the sky to put the stars to flight and as I dropped from heaven and sank once more to earth. If they do not repay me in full for my slaugtered cows, I will go down to Hades and shine among the dead.’ ”
“ ‘Sun,’ the Cloud-gatherer answered him, ‘shine on for the immortals and for mortal men on the fruitful earth. As for the culprits, I will soon strike their ship with a blinding bolt out on the wine-dark sea and break it to bits.’ ”
“This part of the tale I had from the fair Calypso, who told me that she herself had heard it from Hermes the Messenger.”
“When I had come down to the sea and reached the ship, I confronted my men one after the other and rebuked them. But we could find no way of mending matters: the cows were dead and gone. And the gods soon began to visit my crew with portents. The hides crawled; the meat, roast and raw, groaned on the spits; and a sound as though of lowing cattle could be heard.”
“For six days those good men of mine feasted on the pick of the Sun’s cattle they had driven in. But when Zeus brought the seventh day round, the fury of the gale abated, and we quickly embarked and put out into the open sea after stepping the mast and hauling the white sail up.”
“When we had left the island astern and no other land, nor anything but sky and water was to be seen, Zeus brought a sombre cloud to rest above the ship so that the sea was darkened by its shadow. Before she had run very far, a howling wind suddenly sprang up from the west and hit us with hurricane force. The squall snapped both forestays together. As the mast fell aft, all the rigging tumbled into the bilge, and the mast itself, reaching the stern, struck the helmsman on the head and smashed in all the bones of his skull. He plunged like a diver from the poop, and his brave soul left his body. Then at one and the same moment Zeus thundered and struck the vessel by lightning. The whole ship reeled to the blow of his bolt and was filled with sulphur. My men were flung overboard and tossed round the black hull like sea-gulls on the waves. There was no home-coming for them: the god saw to that.”
“Meanwhile I kept shifting from one part of the ship to another, till a great wave tore her sides from her keel, which the seas then swept along denuded of its ribs. They even snapped the mast off close to the keel, but as the backstay, which was a leather rope, had fallen across the mast, I used it to lash mast and keel together, and astride these two timbers I became the sport of the furious winds.”
“The storm that had blown up from the west subsided soon enough, but was quickly followed by more wind from the south, to my great distress, for this meant that I should have once more to run the gauntlet of the dreaded Charybdis. All through the night I was swept along, and at sunrise found myself back at Scylla’s rock and that appalling whirlpool. Charybdis was beginning to suck the salt sea water down. But as she did so, I was flung right up to the great fig-tree, on which I got a tight grip and clung like a bat. I could find no foothold to support me, nor any means of climbing into the tree, for its roots were far away below, and the great long branches that overshadowed Charybdis stretched high above my head. However, I stuck grimly on until such time as she should spew me up my mast and keel once more. My hope was justified, though they came up very late, in fact not till the time when a judge with a long list of disputes to settle between obstinate litigants rises from court for his evening meal. Then at last the timbers reappeared on the surface of the pool. I flung my arms and legs down for a plunge, and with a splash fell in the water clear of the great logs, which I then bestrode and rowed along with my hands. And thanks to the Father of men and gods I was spared another sight of Scylla. Otherwise nothing could have saved me from certain death.”
“Nine days of drifting followed; but in the night of the tenth the gods washed me up on the Isle of Ogygia, the home of the fair Calypso, that formidable goddess with a woman’s voice; and she received me kindly and looked after me. But why go again through all this? Only yesterday I told you and your noble consort the whole story here in your house, and it goes against the grain with me to repeat a tale already plainly told.”
