II Silas Still to Bob Weely

WE work and work, Bob, and it is all no use. In the day time we are scorched by the heat of the sun, at night we sweep the sea depths in the glare of torches. As the proverb goes, we pour water into a bottomless jar and all our labour is barren and unprofitable. We cannot even fill our stomach with sea-nettles or mussels : our master collects both fish and cash. Nor is it enough for him to have all that we make; he is continually searching the boat for more. The other day, when we were at Munychia and sent that young fellow Hermon to take him our catch, he told him that we must get a cargo of sponge as well and some of that sea wool which grows so freely in the meadows of Eurynome. This was the last straw. Hermon left his load, fish and all, and left us too, smack and all, and went off in a row-boat, and joined the Rhodian shell gatherers. So our master lost a good servant and we a good comrade.