But those were Troizenian fishing boats, and this Athenian ship is something else entirely. Its prow slices through the waves with great speed, whether under sail or powered by oars. The only smell is the clean, briny scent of the ocean, familiar to me since childhood, and awnings and sunshades keep the late-winter sun from being a bother. I do spend a fair amount of time at the rail, but not in sickness. Instead, I search the horizon for a sign of land. As soon as we put into a port, I'll find some way to escape. The Kretans must think me dimwitted if they imagine that I'll calmly allow them to lead me through the twisting corridors of the maze to be tortured and devoured by that monster. But we pass by the small islands without stopping. The sea is so smooth that the children are allowed to play on deck, and I quickly become a favorite among them, as the sailors are uninterested in joining in their games. I knot a piece of rope into a rough ball and show the boys how to kick it into a bucket that has been tipped over onto its side.
