in their little boats to salvage their booty, but, seeing men alive and
ready to defend their property, they changed their predatory designs into
offers of help.




CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEENTH.

Just then, amid that clamor of voices we heard a peculiar noise, and from
beneath the captain's cabin there came a bellowing as of some wild beast
trying to get out. We then followed up the sound and discovered
Eumolpus, sitting there scribbling verses upon an immense sheet of
parchment! Astounded that he could find time to write poetry at death's
very door, we hauled him out, in spite of his protests, and ordered him
to return to his senses, but he flew into a rage at being interrupted;
"Leave me alone until I finish this sentence," he bawled; "the poem
labors to its birth." Ordering Giton to come to close quarters and help
me drag the bellowing bard ashore, I laid hands upon the lunatic. When
this job had at last been completed, we came, wet and wretched, to a
fisherman's hut and refreshed ourselves somewhat with stores from the
wreck, spoiled though they were by salt water, and passed a night that
was almost interminable. As we were holding a council, next day, to
determine to what part of the country we had best proceed, I suddenly
caught sight of a human body, turning around in a gentle eddy and
floating towards the shore. Stricken with melancholy, I stood still and
began to brood, with wet eyes, upon the treachery of the sea. "And
perhaps," said I, "a wife, safe in some far-away country of the earth,
awaits this man, or a son who little dreams of storms or wrecks; or
perhaps he left behind a father, whom he kissed good-by at parting! Such