section. He waved to show he was satisfied. First the Asian mainland and then Khios itself slid down below the horizon and out of sight astern. Nothing new appeared ahead, nor would anything till the next day. For the first time on the journey, the Aphrodite sailed out of sight of land. Besides his own ship, Menedemos saw a couple of fishing boats, a leaping dolphin, and a few birds. Other than that, nothing but sun and sky and sea. Diokles said, 'Always seems a little odd, doesn't it, being out here all by our lonesome?' 'It makes me wish there were a better way to guide a ship over the open ocean than steering by the sun and by guess,' Menedemos answered. 'I've sailed with some skippers who'd rather cross the open sea by night. They say they steer better by the stars than by the sun,' Diokles said. 'I've heard others say the same thing,' Menedemos replied. 'One of these times, I may try it myself. Not today, though. After a while, I want to raise the sail to the yard, put everyone on the oars, and get in more practice at fighting the ship.' The keleustes rumbled approval, deep down in his throat. 'That's a good notion, captain, no two ways about it. It's like most things: the more work we do, the better off we'll be.' 'With a sunny day, we can twist and turn however we like and have no trouble picking up our course again later,' Menedemos added. 'When it's all foggy and overcast, you have a hang of a time figuring out which way's which - have to go by wind and wave, and they can change on you before you know it.' 'That's true, by the gods. And in a storm . . .' Diokles rubbed his ring, as if speaking of a storm might make one blow up. 'In a storm, you worry about staying afloat first and everything else later.' Remembering his cousin for the first time in a while, Menedemos raised his voice: 'In a storm, we'll chuck the peafowl over the side to lighten ship.' 'Suits me fine,' Sostratos said, 'as long as you're the one who explains to our fathers why we did it.' Menedemos spat into the bosom of his tunic, as if that were a more frightening prospect than a storm. After a little thought, he decided it was. A storm would either blow over or sink him, but Sostratos' father, and especially his own, could keep him miserable for years to come. 'Land ho!' Aristeidas called from the foredeck. Pointing, he went on, 'Land off the port bow!' Sostratos was on the foredeck, too, wrestling a peahen back into her cage. He closed the door behind the squawking bird, slipped the bronze hooks into their eyes, and got to his feet. Shading his eyes with his hand, he peered in the direction the lookout's finger showed. 'Your sight is sharper than mine,' he said. Not very much later, though, he pointed, too. 'No, wait - now I see it there.' He turned and called back to the stern: 'What island is that?' At the steering oars,
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