III
THE SLAYING OF THE SIDONIANS
Morning broke in the East. A new day dawned upon the silent sea, and on
the world of light and sound. The sunrise topped the hill at last, and
fell upon the golden raiment of the Wanderer where he slept, making it
blaze like living fire. As the sun touched him, the prow of a black ship
stole swiftly round the headland, for the oarsmen drove her well with
the oars. Any man who saw her would have known her to be a vessel of
the merchants of Sidon--the most cunning people and the greediest of
gain--for on her prow were two big-headed shapes of dwarfs, with gaping
mouths and knotted limbs. Such gods as those were worshipped by the
Sidonians. She was now returning from Albion, an isle beyond the pillars
of Heracles and the gates of the great sea, where much store of tin is
found; and she had rich merchandise on board. On the half-deck beside
the steersman was the captain, a thin, keen-eyed sailor, who looked
shoreward and saw the sun blaze on the golden armour of the Wanderer.
They were so far off that he could not see clearly what it was that
glittered yellow, but all that glittered yellow was a lure for him,
and gold drew him on as iron draws the hands of heroes. So he bade the
helmsman steer straight in, for the sea was deep below the rock, and
there they all saw a man lying asleep in golden armour.
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