“I think that's a better bet than going through the Kyklades again,” Sostratos said. “Too many pirates in those waters, and sooner or later we'd come across one who'd sooner fight than go the other way.” “That's what I think, too.” Menedemos took off his chiton and threw it down on the poop deck. “Might as well go to sleep now.” When he woke the next morning and untangled himself from the folds of his himation, he exclaimed in low- voiced delight as he stood by the rail and pissed into the harbor of Patmos. The breeze came out of the northeast, strong and with a certain feel to it that made him think it would hold all day. Every once in a while, such feelings let him down. More often than not, though, he gauged the wind rightly. Diokles looked up from the rower's bench where he'd passed the night. “Kind of day that makes you want to get out to sea as fast as you can,” he said. “I was thinking the same thing,” Menedemos said. The eastern sky was pink, but the sun wouldn't rise for some little while yet. He looked down at Sostratos, who still lay snoring on the poop deck, and stirred him with his foot. His cousin gasped and sputtered and opened his eyes. “What was that for?” he asked indignantly, sitting up. “What's the matter?” Menedemos was the picture of innocence. “Don't you want to go to Athens?” “I want you to go to the crows.” Sostratos got to his feet so quickly and fiercely, Menedemos wondered if he would have to fight his cousin. But then the angry glow faded from Sostratos' eyes. “That's a splendid wind, isn't it?” “Feels good to me,” Menedemos said. “The keleustes likes it, too. And I can't imagine anyone being sorry to get away from Patmos,” “All right.” Sostratos walked naked to the rail, as Menedemos had moments before. When he turned back, he said, “Let's start getting the sailors up.” Diokles had already started waking the ones who hadn't roused by themselves. They ate bread and oil, drank watered wine, and had the anchors hauled up and stowed by the time the sun crawled above the horizon. They didn't even have to row out of the harbor. It faced west, and the breeze carried the Aphrodite away from it as soon as the sail came down from the yard. Looking back over his shoulder, Menedemos watched Patmos recede behind him. Had he taken the akatos due west, he would have sailed through the Kyklades for the third time that sailing season. Instead, he used the steering oars to swing her somewhat to the north, so that she went up between Ikaria on his right hand and Mykonos on his left. Tenos lay northwest of Mykonos, Andros northwest of Tenos, Euboia northwest of Andros. Menedemos steered the Aphrodite on a course parallel to them but well to the east, out in the middle of the Aegean. He didn't see another ship all day, which suited him fine. “Late tomorrow or early the next day, we'll be able to slide through the channel between Andros and Euboia and make for Athens,” he said. “Good enough. Better than good enough, in fact,” Sostratos said. “You had the right of it: not many ships out here in the middle of the sea.” “We don't guarantee getting through without any trouble this way,” Menederaos said. “We do make our chances better, though. And we never get out of sight of land, the way you can sailing west to Great Hellas. So we always
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