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like Artemis’ wild dogs, murdering, plundering and sinking ships. Signal fires burned all along the Phoenician coast and in a bitter battle we succeeded in sinking two small warships which came upon us unexpectedly. We lost some men and many more were wounded. But invisible shields protected me so that I remained un-scratched.
    Many of the men began to complain of seeing the ghosts of our victims in the dark and of feeling the pinch of cold fingers as they were about to sleep. A convoy of vengeful spirits accompanied us, for the sea and the sky around our vessels often darkened without apparent reason.
    Dionysius made several sacrifices to placate the spirits, and spat in the sea and scratched the prow with his fingernails to gain a favorable wind. But when the new moon appeared like a thread-thin silver sickle he said suddenly, “I have tested my luck sufficiently and our ships can carry no more cargo. I am not so greedy that I would sacrifice the seaworthiness of my vessels for spoils. Our expedition is now at an end and we have nothing to do but save our lives and our loot. Therefore let us turn our prows westward, and may Poseidon help us across the measureless sea.”
    As the Phocaeans shouted for joy Dionysius prayed to the gods of Phoenicia and lonia, smeared blood on the face, hands and feet of the deity and sacrificed several prisoners, letting their blood run into the sea. Sacrifices which would no longer be permitted on land were tolerated at sea and no one protested these barbaric offerings.
    Intoxicated by the blood and the loot and our success, the oarsmen joined in calling for the wind. The sailing season was drawing to a close, flocks of birds flew restlessly above the sea, and the water changed its colors. But still the sun scorched us mercilessly, the firmament dazzled our eyes, and the wind did not appear.
    Finally the rowers, palms raw from the oars and their throats hoarse, began to shout, “Turms, summon the wind for us! We would rather drown than die at the oars with this heavy cargo of loot.”
    With their shouts my head cleared and I saw around us the shadows of the deceased with their vindictive grimaces and hands that clutched our railings as though to prevent our escape.
    An ecstasy seized me. I felt myself stronger than the spirits and began summoning the east wind. The others shouted with me, imitating the words whose meaning even I did not understand. Three times, then seven times and finally twelve times I called. Mikon covered his head in fear but made no attempt to restrain me since our lives in any event were at stake with the Phoenician and Egyptian ships at our heels.
    Then the sea turned yellow in the east and a blinding storm swirled over us, carrying with it the dust of distant deserts. The last we saw of the open sea behind us was a waterspout rising from the waves to the sky. Then I collapsed onto the deck and Mikon and Dorieus carried me below, where they tied me to one of the ribs to keep me from being battered to death in the pitching ship.

Book Three

Himera
1.
    Greater even than Dionysius’ bravery in the battle of Lade, more notable than his raiding expeditions in Phoenician waters, was his skill as a navigator. Despite the autumn gales which sent other ships fleeing to the safety of winter ports, he succeeded in reaching the shores of Sicily in three weeks without landing once, and with the mountains of Crete as his only landmark. This incredible feat deserves full recognition.
    So filthy and diseased were we, so bruised and rotted by salt water, that when we finally sighted land and knew it to be real, the men wept with joy and demanded that we put ashore no matter whose territory it was.
    Our ships leaked so badly and autumn was so far advanced that not even Dionysius believed that we could continue our voyage over the wide and unknown waters that separated us from Massilia. Calling together his captains and helmsmen he said, “The gigantic smoke-capped mountain that