9–11
Timolaus
This was the kind of thing they found themselves in for, according to the master,—and ona pitch dark night! However, the Gods were moved by their distress, and showed them a fire that enabled them to identify the Lycian coast; and a bright star—either Castor or Pollux—appeared at the masthead, and guided the ship into the open sea on their left; just in time, for she was making straight for the cliff. Having once lost their proper course, they sailed on through the Aegean, bearing up against the Etesian winds, until they came to anchor in Piraeus yesterday, being the seventieth day of the voyage; you see how far they had been carried out of their way; whereas if they had taken Crete on their right, they would have doubled Malea, and been at Rome by this time.
Lycinus
A pretty pilot this Heron, and no mistake, to get so far out in his reckoning;
a man after Nereus’s heart!—But look! that is surely Adimantus?
Timolaus
Adimantus it is. Let us hail him. Adimantus!... Son of Strombichus!... of the deme of Myrrhinus! He must be offended with us, or else he is deaf; it is certainly he.
Lycinus
I can make him out quite clearly now; his cloak, his walk, his cropped head. Let us mend our pace, and catch him up.—
We shall have to pull you by the cloak, and compel you to turn round, Adimantus; you will take no notice of our shouts, You seem like one rapt in contemplation; you are pondering on matters of no light import?
