Title:from the logs of the good ship Nausicaä: Day One: from Peiraeus to Megara : () : polites of Athenai: 7/27/2001,8:04:44< prev next >

"Sing to me of the team, muse, the team of twists and turns, driven time and again off course —" Clymene, with arms outstretched towards the trim vessel, Nausicaä, bobbing up and down at anchor in Peiraeus harbour, started and broke off. "What on Olympus or Hades are you doing?" snapped Verona, staggering under the weight of a large basket, "Come and help me with this dratted cargo!" "Why, every great tale starts with an invocation, didn't you know? I was communing with my muse to ensure us a good story." Verona rolled her eyes. "Well start communing with our cargo or there won't BE a journey, and that means NO STORY!" The pair struggled the basket up the gangplank to the deck. Clymene poked through the basket, nibbling a bit of baklava and admiring her hairdo in the bronze mirror. "When do we start?" she asked, adjusting a curl blown astray in the morning breeze. "We're late already!" Verona glanced meaningfully down the pier towards the Zealous Zephyr and the Thersites. Both ships were aswarm with activity, which appeared, from that distance, both purposeful and brisk. Cargo stowed, Verona briskly hoisted the Nausicaä's sails. "Quick, Clymene! Hoist anchor and let's shove off!" "Verona!" Clymene wailed, "Where's Macrinus Livius? Where is Ody, our beloved bird? Where is our shield and arrows?" Her shipmate gasped. "I completely forgot about them! Hang onto that anchor, I'll be right back!" Verona dropped the lines, and as the sails billowed to the deck, she dashed up the pier. Clymene struggled out from beneath the sails, thoughtfully polished the Nausicaä's slightly battered swan's-neck stern and took up her skein of wool. Walking down the Peiraeus harbour, Macrinus looked for his ship. "Let's see there is the Zealous Zephyr, oh a fine looking ship she is," he mused. "That fellow told me the Nausicaä was down this way. I wonder why he was laughing? Hmmm, nothing here but that derelict ship at the end. "Oh no! It is the Nausicaä! Well I've signed up for this voyage, I'll have to board her," he moaned, hesitating at the bottom of the gangplank. On deck, "Knit one, perl two," Clymene muttered, ignoring Macrinus and the increasingly loud cries from the pier. "HOIST THE SAILS, YOU IDIOT!!" Verona exclaimed, as racing up the gangplank, she plopped a cage with a very sleepy owl amidships and Mac reluctantly threw down a dusty oxhide shield and quiver-ful of arrows. Clymene dropped her knitting and grabbed the lines as Macrinus struggled with the anchor. "'About time," Verona muttered, as the anchor dripped over the deck, "Let's get this show on the road." Clymene gripped a tiny votive statue. "I sing of golden-throned Hera whom Rhea bore," she muttered, "Queen of the immortals is she, surpassing all in beauty...okay Hera baby, keep us safe and don't let all this wind chap my skin!" With no one to man the rudder, the Nausicaä yawed and bashed into the pier, scratching her battered hull. In his cage, Ody gave a startled hoot and Macrinus looked even more apprehensive than when he had first set eyes on the vessel. "Now look what you've done! "Verona glared, "This had better be worth it. Mac and I came all this way from Rome, and you promised me sailing is second nature to Greeks." Clymene declared airily, "C'mon, the wind is supposed to lift our spirits high while we spread our sails!" Spume from Homer's wine-dark sea slapped Verona's tart reply from her lips. "Where on earth WERE you, Mac?" Clymene asked. Verona glared at her countryman. "On the floor of the caupona, amid last night's broken crockery," she glared. "Remember when we left, he was dancing on the tables and smashing the plates into the fireplace?" Macrinus hung his head, then looked queasy as, over the misty breakers, the Nausicaä skimmed. "Ahh, this is more like it," exclaimed Verona, relaxed enough to preen in the mirror while she rested her dainty ankles on an amphora of olive oil. Suddenly, Clymene gasped and shook Verona's shoulder violently. "Look! There on the rocks!" Blocking the harbour, lashing its tail, a largish sphinx preened its wings. "Ecastor!" exclaimed Verona, "A sphinx!" "I thought she'd offed herself at Thebes," Mac wondered. The creature glared at the crew, licking pale lips with a long red tongue, intoning, "What is that which has one voice and yet becomes four-footed and two-footed and three-footed?" "Oh THAT old chestnut," scoffed Clymene. "Who writes your lines?" The Sphinx shrugged leonine shoulders. "Everyone's a critic. Hurry up and answer, I'm getting hungry." Macrinus began to answer when "WE deserve equal time," Verona sniffed. "I say WOMAN: we fit the qualifications just as well as men—as babies, we're four-footed, as an adult two-footed, as old woman we can use a staff as a third leg, and also to whack our man." With that, she gave an illustrative cuff to Mac's startled head. "So THERE." The sphinx frowned. "It's not according to the script, but since you're technically correct, I guess you can pass." Out through the mouth of the harbour sailed the Nausicaä, pitching and yawing on the open seas. To starboard lay Salamis, home of the feared Gorgon sisters: Stheno, Euryale and Medusa. Off the port bow clinging to a rock jutting out of the seas was— "What on earth —" the startled Verona exclaimed, "That's Scylla! What is SHE doing here, all the way from Sicily?" Clymene groaned. "Which way? We're either dog food or statues at this rate!" "Unless you want to feed all our baklava to Scylla, take us towards shore," barked Verona, whipping out the mirror and passing it over to Clymene, hands tight on the rudder. "Here: use this to steer and whatever you do, DON'T LOOK!" Clymene gulped as Verona screwed her eyes shut, "Easy for you to say!" Soon the terrified Clymene espied the Gorgon sisters in the depths of the mirror, brass claws reaching for stones, hissing tresses writhing beside large, boar-like tusks. "Quick, Mac! The bow and arrows! Shoot!" Mac opened his eyes long enough to knock an arrow and, guided by the sound of the gorgons' hissing hairdos, fired an arrow towards shore. Startled, the trio ducked, spoiling their aim. As rocks hurtled overhead, Clymene jerked the rudder to port, and Nausicaä scooting past the dangerous trio. A stiff northwesterly blew the Nausicaä ever onward. To port loomed a sand bank. "We're really going to watch out if we don't want to fetch up on that," observed Mac, picking at a baklava. "If we're not careful," retorted Clymene, "the Sirens will fetch our souls for Persephone. I can hear them even now!" "Oooh," exclaimed Verona, clasping her hands, "Are they in concert? I'd love to hear them!" Clymene dug through the basket, emerging with a long skein of rope and a set of wax earplugs. In a twinkling she tied Verona to the mast. Handing the earplugs to Macrinus, "You man the tiller!" Clymene exclaimed, "and steer towards the middle, between the island and the sand bar!" She then grabbed Ody and perched the owl on her shoulder, then jammed her own rosy fingers firmly into both ears. Deaf to Verona's outraged cries, she shouted, "You get your wish! Mac shall direct our course!" By now, Verona could hear the sirens' song and, lured by the lovely voices and tempting words, she struggled against her bonds, oblivious to piles of bones that dotted the shores on either side. "Ooh! Encore! Encore! I MUST hear more." Clymene anxiously glanced both at Macrinus and the approaching shore. As soon as she spotted the sirens' beautiful forms, she cried to Ody, "After them, boy!" The owl sped towards shore. Claws outstretched, he stooped on the startled Sirens, who broke apart with shrieks and curses. Macrinus threw the tiller to port and Clymene jammed her own fingers even further into his ear. Again, the faithful Nausicaä sailed out of danger, and, as the noise of the Sirens diminished, Clymene hastened to release her friend as Ody flew back to the ship for a well-deserved nap and Mac dug wax out of his ears. "Goodness that was a close call!" she exclaimed, embracing Verona. "How was the concert?" She poured Verona and Macrinus large goblets of Chian and they both listened, enthralled to Verona's lurid description. The now- friendly winds blew them on-course for Megara as Helios descended to bed.