After that first boatman - a fellow who, though only a few years older than Sostratos and Menedemos, had lost most of his hair - delivered water to the Aphrodite and came back unscathed, more islanders came out to the akatos. After a while, Sostratos turned to Diokles. 'You must have come here before,' he said, and the oarmaster dipped his head. Sostratos went on, 'Is it my imagination, or are there a lot of bald men on this island?' 'No, sir, it's not your imagination,' Diokles answered. 'Haven't you ever heard somebody say, 'bald as a Mykonian'?' 'I don't think so,' Sostratos said. 'Of course, now I'll probably hear it three times in the next two days. That's how those things seem to work.' 'So it is,' Diokles said with a chuckle. Sostratos started to say something more, but the keleustes held up a hand. 'Hold on a bit, would you? I want to hear what that fellow in the boat is telling the skipper.' Sostratos outranked the oarmaster. Not only that, he was the son of one of the Aphrodite's owners. A lot of men, in such circumstances, would have gone right on talking. Menedemos probably would, Sostratos thought. But he fell silent, not least because he was also curious about what the local had to say. 'That's right,' the fellow said to Menedemos. 'A ship just about the size of yours. That's one of the reasons we all had the hair stand up on the backs of our necks when you sailed toward town.' He had little hair save on the back of his neck - he was bald, too. 'Do you know where she's based?' Menedemos asked. 'Sure don't,' the Mykonian answered, tossing his head. 'Lots of beaches that'll hold a pirate ship. Plenty of little tiny islands here in the Kyklades, places where nobody lives, or else maybe a goatherd or two. A pirate crew could sail out of one of those and you'd never find it, except maybe by accident.' 'You're probably right.' Menedemos didn't sound happy about agreeing. ' 'Course I'm right,' the bald man said with the sort of certainty only people who haven't traveled very far or done very much can have. He went on, 'Plenty for the polluted son of a whore to feast on, too, what with all the ships bringing people to pray or to make offerings to Apollo on holy Delos.' 'Ah, Delos. That's right,' Menedemos said. Sostratos found himself dipping his head, too. Along with its larger but less important neighbor, Rheneia, Delos - famous for being the birthplace of Apollo and his twin sister, Artemis - lay just west of Mykonos. Pirates could easily make a comfortable living preying on the ships that brought pious Hellenes there. 'Since you ain't pirates, you'd be smart to watch out for 'em,' the Mykonian said. 'Otherwise, you might end up on Delos your own selves - in the slave markets, I mean.' 'We'll be careful,' Menedemos assured him. The local didn't seem convinced. But he also didn't seem much interested in what happened to a ship full of strangers. With a shrug, he rowed back toward Panormos. 'Well, well,' Diokles said. 'Isn't that interesting?'
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