Against the illumined
waters he could see the long, bent nose, the great beard, the shaggy
brows, the large, hairy head of his pilot. Tepas, who ruled his men
with scourge and pilum, had made himself feared of all save the young
Roman noble. Appius halted, looking scornfully at the Jew. Then he
shouted:
"A knave, upon my honor! 'Tis better to be drunk, for then one has
hope of recovery. You long-haired dog! Here is something would make
you bay the moon. Drink and howl. You weary me with silence."
Tepas, familiar with the contempt of Romans, took the flask, and,
pouring into his cup, drank of the rich wine. Then Appius held the
flask above his head, and with a word of scorn flung it into the sea.
He started to cross the deck and fell heavily. Now, after striving, as
it seemed, to regain his feet, he lay awhile muttering and helpless and
soon began to snore. The deck was deserted by all save him and the
pilot. Tepas looked down at the young Roman. Already, far off in the
moonlight, he had seen cliffs and knew they were on the Isle of Doom.
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