following a novel mode of sailing, being at once sailors and ships. Let me tell you how they did it: they lay on their backs on the water, hoisted their never-mind-whats, which are sizeable, spread sail on them, held the clews in their hands, and were off and away as soon as the wind struck them. Others came next who sat on corks and had a pair of dolphins hitched up, driving them and guiding them with reins; in moving ahead, the dolphins drew the corks along. They neither offered us harm nor ran away from us, but drove along fearlessly and peacefully, wondering at the shape of our boat and examining her from all sides.
In the evening we touched at another island of no great size. It was inhabited by women—or so we thought—who spoke Greek, and they came up to us, welcomed and embraced us. They were got up just like courtezans and were all beautiful and young, with tunics that swept on the ground. The island was called Witchery, and the city Watertown.[1] Each of the women took one of us home with her and made him her guest. But I excused myself for a moment—I had misgivings—and on looking about rather carefully, saw many human bones and skulle lying there. To make an outcry, call my comrades together and arm ourselves did not seem best to me, but I fetched out my mallow and prayed to it earnestly that I might escape the ills that beset me. After a little while, as my hostess was waiting on me, I saw that her legs were not a woman’s but those of an ass. Then I drew my sword, caught and bound
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- ↑ Both names are uncertain in the Greek.
