pitch. The steersman sat on a bench at the stern. Occasionally, from
force of habit, he rested a hand upon the rudder-oar to be sure it was
yet in reach. With exception of the two, the lookout and the steersman,
all on board, officers, oarsmen, and sailors, were asleep--such
confidence could a Mediterranean calm inspire in those accustomed to
life on the beautiful sea. As if Neptune never became angry there, and
blowing his conch, and smiting with his trident, splashed the sky with
the yeast of waves! However, in 1395 Neptune had disappeared; like the
great god Pan, he was dead.

The next remarkable thing about the ship was the absence of the signs of
business usual with merchantmen. There were no barrels, boxes, bales, or
packages visible. Nothing indicated a cargo. In her deepest undulations
the water-line was not once submerged. The leather shields of the
oar-ports were high and dry. Possibly she had passengers aboard. Ah,
yes! There under the awning, stretched halfway across the deck dominated
by the steersman, was a group of persons all unlike seamen. Pausing to
note them, we may find the motive of the voyage.

Four men composed the group. One was lying upon a pallet, asleep yet
restless. A black velvet cap had slipped from his head, giving freedom
to thick black hair tinged with white. Starting from the temples, a
beard with scarce a suggestion of gray swept in dark waves upon the neck
and throat, and even invaded the pillow. Between the hair and beard
there was a narrow margin of sallow flesh for features somewhat crowded
by knots of wrinkle. His body was wrapped in a loose woollen gown of
brownish-black. A hand, apparently all bone, rested upon the breast,
clutching a fold of the gown. The feet twitched nervously in the
loosened thongs of old-fashioned sandals. Glancing at the others of the
group, it was plain this sleeper was master and they his slaves. Two of