Arria and her brother were far from the shores of Hellas and near the Isle of Doom.

Tepas knew that a few leagues more would bring him in sight of the familiar cliffs.

Brother and sister were reclining on the deck of their trireme.

The tenth day of their journey was near its end.

The sun had sunk through misty depths of purple, and now seemed to melt and pour a flood of fire upon the waters.
"I am weary," said the girl, looking thoughtfully at the calm sea.
"Of me ?" said her brother.
"Nay, but of that groaning of the rowers.