Odysseus in the Serpent Maze Read Online Free PDF Page B

should have thanked Athena for guiding our spears. But you didn’t.”
    “It must have …” The crease between Odysseus’ eyes deepened. “Must have slipped my mind.”
    “Did it slip your mind that Poseidon’s her uncle?” Mentor said, his face now grey, now green, now … over the ship’s side. He threw up nothing and sank back on to the deck. “The god of the sea.”
    Odysseus sat down next to him and put a hand on Mentor’s shoulder. “If someone forgot to thank me for something, I wouldn’t punish a whole boatload of sailors for it.”
    “You’re … not … a … god,” said Mentor and retched again, this time into his own lap. Luckily his stomach was empty.
    “Then I’ll thank the goddess now.” Odysseus stood, both hands gripping the railing.
    “Owl-eyed Athena,” he called, “forgive this small prince who wanted too much to be a hero.”
    Mentor grabbed hold of Odysseus’ tunic and, pulling himself up to stand by his friend’s side, he put one hand on the side of the ship, raising the other to the black sky. “I too, Athena, ask forgiveness that I didn’t remind Odysseus of his duty.”
    At that very moment, the ship was pitched up into the air by a great wave, as black as the sky, as high as a mountain.
    For a second the little boat hovered between sea and sky, between life and death.
    Then it dropped.
    Still waving, Mentor was flung overboard into the sea.
    Odysseus was quick, but not quick enough. His fingers touched the hem of Mentor’s tunic for a moment before the boy was gone.
    “Mentor!” Odysseus cried. He thought he could make out Mentor’s thin figure through a haze of sea spray. “Mentor!” he cried again, his hands gripping so hard on the wooden rail that an imprint was left in his palms.
    For a moment he thought about diving after his friend, but he was afraid that he might not be strong enough with his weakened leg.
    Just then something smacked him painfully on that very leg. He looked down. It was the fir-wood box his grandfather had given them, come loose of its lashings. He knew it was empty and could see that the lid was sealed with wax to keep the interior dry on the voyage.
    Just the thing , he thought.
    Seizing the box with both hands, he heaved it over the side of the boat and jumped into the waves after it.
    Sure enough, the box bobbed on top of the water. Odysseus kept it in sight and caught up after three hard strokes. Then, holding on to one of its wooden handles, he kicked as hard as he could, his bad leg lagging after the good one, steering the box towards the place where he’d last seen Mentor floundering in the sea.
    “Mentor!” he cried, then was sorry he had spoken as a wave dashed into his mouth. It felt like the entire ocean went in, and only a bit got coughed back out.
    But Mentor heard the coughing, spotted him, and managed to swim close enough so that Odysseus could manoeuvre the box between them, a handle on each side.
    “Hold on,” he called. “We can kick ourselves back to the ship.”
    “Gone,” Mentor managed in a voice made hoarse by the saltwater. “Gone.”
    Odysseus turned and gulped. An immense billow was rising up behind him like a huge, green, cyclopean wall. When the sea had flattened out again, he saw that Mentor was right.
    The ship was gone.
    They were alone in the middle of the heaving sea.

CHAPTER 6: MISERY AT SEA
    T HEY CLUNG DESPERATELY TO the box, saying little, conserving strength. The storm continued to rain down on them, drops as large as grapes, but could add little more to their misery. They were already as cold and as wet as they were going to get.
    At last—mercifully—the storm subsided. But still the boys bobbed helplessly, now under a brilliant canopy of stars.
    “Where are we?” Mentor croaked.
    Odysseus looked up. Suddenly he couldn’t remember any of the stars over them. He and Mentor might as well have been under an alien sky for all that he could name them.
    “If only I’d listened more closely