Along the North Coast of Egypt
The Thracian died sometime after noon. He had never
regained consciousness after falling from atop the yard while
trying to help shorten sail during the gray hour before dawn.
The other man， now the lone survivor， shipped the steering
oar for a moment and checked his comrade s condition. He
had found the brown eyes open and staring， the tanned face
rigid， the lean body already starting to turn cold.
With hardly a second thought， he stooped， got both
hands under the man s inert body， and hefted it with a
sudden， powerful jerk， the big muscles of his upper arms
bulging with the strain. He wondered for a moment， standing
there with the body in his arms， whether Thracians had any
death rituals; but he knew of none， and there was no time for
improvising one for sentimentality s sake--the wind was start-
ing up again， and the clouds to the west were black and
menacing. He heaved mightily， and the body fell into the
Great Sea with a dull splash.
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