Dusk fell rather earlier than Sostratos had expected it to. The rain kept falling, too, making the night even more miserable and uncomfortable than it would have been otherwise. 'How are we supposed to sleep in this?' Sostratos said. 'Wrap yourself in your himation, as if you were an Egyptian mummy,' Menedemos said. 'Wrap your face up, too. That'll keep you dry.' 'Of course it will - till the whole himation soaks through,' Sostratos said. 'By then you'll be asleep, and you won't notice till morning.' As Menedemos so often did, he spoke like a man with all the answers. Since Sostratos had no answers of his own, he tried his cousin's. For a little while, he thought it would work: the thick wool of the himation did keep the rain off fairly well. He was just getting really sleepy when he noticed he was also getting really wet. That woke him up again, and he took a long, long time to fall asleep. From a couple of cubits away, Menedemos' snores effortlessly pierced the soft patter of the rain. That didn't help, either. It was still raining when Sostratos woke up the next morning. He felt half suffocated in wet wool. He undid the mantle, sat up, and knuckled his eyes, trying to convince himself this was all some horrid dream. He couldn't do it, and resigned himself to a long day full of weariness. Menedemos was already up and moving. Seeing Sostratos stir, he smile. 'Good day. Isn't this a splendid morning?' 'No.' Sostratos was often inclined to be grumpy before breakfast. A bad night and wet clothes didn't help. His one-word answer made Menedemos' smile wider. 'But just think, O best one - today you can drink watered wine without pouring in any water.' Sostratos' suggestion as to what Menedemos could do with and to his wine only pulled a laugh from his cousin. Wine, watered from a jar as well as by the rain, helped warm Sostratos and resign him to being awake. Olives were olives, whether eaten in the rain or under a bright, sunny sky. But he gulped down his bread in a hurry, before it could get soggy. 'Come on, boys,' Menedemos called to the crew. 'We'll have to put more work into it than I expected, and that's too bad, but if we do we'll sleep warm tonight.' In a soft aside to Sostratos, he added, 'If we make the mainland anywhere close to Kallipolis, that is.' For most of the day, Sostratos wondered if they would know they'd made the mainland before running aground. The rain kept splashing down, as if it were the middle of winter rather than a little before the equinox. A little past noon - or so Sostratos guessed, but he was too tired to have much confidence in the hour - a fishing boat came into sight. Menedemos hailed it: 'Which way to Kallipolis from where we are?' 'That way, I think,' the fisherman said, and pointed. 'Wouldn't take oath to anything, though - not in this. Early in the year for so much rain.' 'Isn't it?' Menedemos agreed. 'Thanks, friend.' To Sostratos, he said, 'Unless my reckoning's off even more than I think, he pointed close to due
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