Chapter V

The Seashore again. The curtain rising discovers the men left behind at the camp sitting irregularly grouped near the fire-place. ULYSSES stands apart from them by the ship, busied in inspecting his arms, the spear, bow, and sword, which hang near or lean against the vessel. When he unsheathes and sheathes the sword to examine it while his men are talking it is seen to have a brightly polished, rather broad, but not heavy blade. Most of the time he stands with face turned toward the water, his back to the Right.

FIRST SAILOR

Look here, lads; we can’t wait till noon for a bite! The
commander ordered breakfast so rattling early this morning I’ve
got a brand-new appetite already.

XENIAS

Well, take a nibble on that pile of Theron’s charcoal cakes
left over. They need a good appetite to make ’em slip down.

FIRST SAILOR

Maybe the mate or Glaucus’ll fetch in another stag or a wild
goat on their way back.

SECOND SAILOR

A wild goose more like; I wonder how far they’ve got anyway.

PHILEMON

They ought to turn up before noon. The commander said they
might get up there and return in a couple of hours, as he
judged—that is, if they scratched gravel lively.

XENIAS

They’ve got Theron with ’em, remember; he can’t pass between
two trees when they grow _too_ near together.

FIRST SAILOR

No, but he can clear a path with his cleaver for two men—him
and Elpy spindle-shanks.

SECOND SAILOR

[_In undertone_] By the way, the commander’s pretty busy over
there with his own cutlery. I wonder what he expects next.

PHILEMON

He expects to be _ready_, whatever comes. You don’t catch him
napping. Besides, who wants a speck of rust on a hanger like
that? The war’s an old story now; and this salt air’s the
devil’s own invention to make a blade stick to the scabbard.

XENIAS

’Twas a pity he couldn’t draw it on that Cyclops hog. But if
we’d let the blood out of him it wouldn’t have let us out of
his pesky cave with a giant’s tomb-stone clapped up to the
door!—[_Whistling low as he looks up. XENIAS sits facing the
Right._] Whew!—What’s in the wind now?

[_All turn quickly toward the point indicated by the speaker, not excepting ULYSSES, whose attention has been attracted by the whistle. At the Right from above EURYLOCHUS enters slowly and hesitatingly, looking pale and haggard, his clothing torn and disordered by the brambles. Observing that all eyes are directed upon him he stops as if afraid to approach the company. Most of the men rise to their feet and move toward him._]

SEVERAL VOICES

Hi! hi!—what’s the good word?—News, news? Where’s Glauc?
[_EURYLOCHUS responds only with deprecatory gestures._]

ULYSSES

What? ho, Eurylochus! Hast tidings? Why alone?

What ails thee, mate? Speak out; tell us thy story!

[_With gestures of dismay EURYLOCHUS moves nearer to ULYSSES, but does not speak. ULYSSES regards him with an expression of deep concern. The other men gather more closely round the pair._]

XENIAS

Wake up, man! What’s in your eye? We’re here to help; cheer up!

PHILEMON

[_Patting EURYLOCHUS on the shoulder_] Out with it; out with
it!—Go ahead; palaver!

XENIAS

Open up, old fellow. _You’re_ not dead, anyway. We’re used to
funerals by this time. [_EURYLOCHUS remains in his despairing
attitude and is still unable to speak._]

ULYSSES

[_Severely; taking a step nearer to EURYLOCHUS, while the men fall back slightly._]

Eurylochus, I enjoin you and command
To conquer this o’er-mastering mute despair.
Deliver straightway the account we crave
Of your commission and make known why thus
Alone and fraught with visible woe thou comest.—
Where are they? Speak!—

EURYLOCHUS

[_With effort; after further hesitation._]

Noble Ulysses, we did most duly follow
Thy charge and indication. And when with sharp
Stretches of toilsome clambering we drew nigh
This shaggy island’s summit, where the ground
Sloped smoother, as these rude prickly folds gave way
To a tall grove of sombre trees which thrust
Their welcome shadows against the mounting sun,—
There ’twixt the spectral boles our upward glance
Fell on a portly mansion’s shimmering sides.
But first, as we clomb higher, a court-yard wall
Barr’d, though with open portals, our approach.
For at its mouth a glowering throng, Ulysses,
Of pards and grisly wolves sat by; not wild,
But of a tameness stranger and more awful
Than fierce beasts’ native temper—’twas sure sign,
And not the last, of foul enchantment. These
Strove not to tear and rend us, but were fain
Like petted dogs to fawn, wagging long tails
And monstrous paws on lap or shoulders throwing;
While in their eyes sad looks, half human, seem’d
To deprecate and warn. But we press’d on,
Heeding thy charge, Ulysses, to mark well
The human dwellers’ aspect and of them
Inquire, proved they not unbenign or harsh.
Dwellers indeed we saw not; but the whole pile,
As near its door we stood, did reek and rumble
With devilish witchery. Scaly serpents writhed
At every coigne; faces with fiery eyeballs
Peer’d out amid the foliage; and o’er all
Weird flashes leapt of lurid sulphurous flame.
Yet that which most profoundly stirr’d my doubts
And dark suspicions, was the unearthly _song_,
With languorous music mixt, that issued forth
To charm and tempt us with seductive spell.
Myself shrank back when on my ear that strain
Of woman’s guile or witch’s magic struck.
Not so the rest, Ulysses,—our lost comrades;
But the song bound and pull’d them; nor could I
Stem their mad folly. One spoke forth and call’d;
And as the doors swang wider all were swept
Under the hellish gap; which, closing, swallow’d
Like an engulfing whirlpool the doom’d crew.
For though, as the song ceased, I watch’d and waited
Long time for tidings or some sign, none came:
Naught but a dismal silence and increase
Of snaky menace and blue infernal gleams!

[_Immediately upon the conclusion of EURYLOCHUS’ narrative ULYSSES, who has listened intently, reaches for his sword near by; takes a quick look at the blade as he draws it partly out and then pushes it back into the scabbard; slings the weapon over his shoulder, puts on his helmet, and then turns to EURYLOCHUS again. The latter exhibits fresh dismay at seeing ULYSSES thus arm himself. The other men also are visibly affected by their commander’s movements._]

ULYSSES

So then thou knowest the way, Eurylochus:
Lead on forthwith by the same path; show me
The spot where thou didst leave them.

EURYLOCHUS

[_Falling at the feet of ULYSSES and clasping his knees_]

Not thither, great Ulysses! Take me not thither!
Thyself will ne’er return, I know right well.
It is the road to death or to some state
Of hideous, vile bewitchment worse than death.
Thou canst not rescue them! What power hath man
To battle with foul uncanny spirits?—Nay,
This isle is haunted. Let us fly; we are
Thus many left alive. To ship and fly!

ULYSSES

[_Scornfully_] Eurylochus, ’tis thy privilege; thou art free
To nurse thy safety, tarrying by the ship.
On _me_ a duty rests; my course lies clear:
My comrades’ fate I go to prove.

[_EURYLOCHUS retreats and cowers while ULYSSES speaks, at the same time gradually rising to a standing posture with his face toward the speaker. He does not join the group of the other men. These have their eyes fixed on the commander, some of them moving anxiously toward him. With his last words ULYSSES starts to go out at the Right. EURYLOCHUS turns away and sits upon a stone near the ship and the water at the Left, covering his face._]

PHILEMON

May we not, sir, accompany you as guard
Or help at hazard?

ULYSSES

Nay, good men; remain
And guard the vessel. My errand’s of espial
And wary circumspection: meet for one;
For more, unsuited. I shall not slip. Farewell!

SEVERAL VOICES

Farewell! farewell, sir!

[_The curtain falls as ULYSSES disappears, while the men stand following his footsteps with their eyes._]