The Hot Swamp

Nearly two thousand seven hundred years ago-or some-where about eight hundred years BuCu-there dwelt a Phoenician sea-captain in one of the eastern sea-ports of Greece-known at that period or soon after as Hellas. This captain was solid square bronzed bluff and resolute as all sea-captains are-or ought to be-whether ancient or modern. He owned as well as commanded one of those curious vessels with one mast and a mighty square-sail fifty oars or so double-banked a dragon's tail in the stern and a horse's head at the prow in which the Phoenicians of old and other mariners were wont to drive an extensive and lucrative trade in the Mediterranean; sometimes pushing their adventurous keels beyond the Pillars of Hercules visiting the distant Cassiterides or Tin Isles and Albion and even penetrating northward into the Baltic in search of tin amber gold and what not. One morning this captain whose name was Arkal sauntered up from the harbour to his hut which stood on a conspicuous eminence overlooking the bay.