46 FOLLOW THE WHALE 



Two of the crew now have hold of it and they rapidly haul it 

 aboard. Then, after only a few minutes, something rushes against 

 the boatside; the trident shaft rises out of the water waving crazily 

 and blood darkens the white foam with a crimson stain. More hands 

 jump to help, and with a mighty heave a great body comes over the 

 side and is dumped into the well of the boat, where it flaps and 

 bangs about, raveling the net and knocking over equipment. 



A man leaps upon it, straddling its back with his legs, and baring 

 a short, broad dagger, makes but one hard thrust. The Lamb of the 

 Sea lies still. Then the men quickly unravel the net and cast it over- 

 board again. The oars are unshipped once more and the boat starts 

 forward into the waves. Meanwhile, he who has dealt the deathblow 

 again takes out the tarnished silver cup and, holding it beneath the 

 head of the animal, makes another slash with the knife so that warm 

 blood flows. When the cup is full, he takes it carefully around the 

 vessel, smearing a little of the blood on the prow and the stern post 

 and handing the cup to each of the crew, who moistens his lips with 

 the blood and wipes a little on his forehead so that the spirit of the 

 holy fish may enter his soul. The cup is then washed in pure fresh 

 water and returned to its place of safety until another Lamb of the 

 Sea is hauled aboard, when the whole ceremony is repeated. 



It is many hours, however, before all six of the cork bales are 

 retrieved, and many times the boat has to circle the last of them be- 

 fore it is safely in the net. Five of the bales bring with them an ex- 

 hausted Lamb of the Sea. One of these, which is small, is already 

 dead, and over this no ceremony is performed, for the God spirit, 

 if it ever resided therein, must already have departed. Instead, a 

 special prayer of forgiveness is said as the animal comes aboard. The 

 sixth bale has only a length of rope attached to it, and the trident 

 has gone. 



And now the sun is already low upon the horizon and the wind 

 is dropping. The sails are set and the oars work rhythmically to 

 help them. The slender boat knifes across the waves to distant land, 

 low upon the horizon and apparently stretching forever to either 

 side. This is the island of the Keftiu, better known to us as Crete. 

 There will be rejoicing and feasting and much music when the sea- 

 men reach the great stone jetty of their home port, for they bring 

 food that is not only good but also holy. 



