It has been a month since any of the crew have seen land. One month lost on the great ocean on a voyage that was meant only to take a fortnight. Our humble boat only carries grapes to trade with close islands, but the gods must not look down upon us with favor. I think I know why. Secretly, some of the men on board have been stealing the grapes from cargo to fill themselves. I know this because I have done so as well. Zeus has kept our skies gloomy. I have nearly forgotten the shine of the heavenly lights on my face, for neither sun nor stars may penetrate the dense clouds that have cast their shadow upon our ship since the day we set off from Athens. The food is nearly gone, for the grapes are our last hope. We fear for our lives.
Now, we trust only in the power and mercy of Aeolus, the god of the winds, to guide our ship safely to its destination, for without the light of the celestial bodies to show our way, we are hopelessly lost.
All twenty men on board pray to the gods. We throw offerings of what little food and the grapes we have left to the god of the sea, that he may be kindhearted to use the winds on the ocean to push our ship to land, any land. We have become so desperate over these last few days. Please Zeus, hear our call!
The days and nights are no longer distinguishable from each other. The crew grows restless. The captain of this ship ordered us to give tribute to Aeolus through prayer. We always have a man on lookout for land in the distance or safe landing place. Right now, that...