“Fear nothing for me,” answered Telemachus, “Heaven’s eye is upon me, and the hand of Zeus is spread over me.  Swear to me now that thou wilt not tell my mother until twelve days have past.”  Eurycleia swore as he bade her, and at once set about making the preparations for his journey.

The suitors were in high spirits at the result of the meeting, and they ate heavily and drank deeply to celebrate their triumph.  Hence it happened that they retired to rest earlier than usual, being drowsy from their intemperate revel; and when Telemachus returned to the banquet-hall he found all the guests departed, and the servants removing the remains of the feast.  Soon afterwards Mentor appeared, and announced that the ship lay ready at her moorings outside the harbour.  The stores were carried down to the sea, and stowed under the rowers’ benches.  “All hands on board!” cried Mentor, and took his place in the stern, Telemachus sitting by his side.  The crew sat ready at their oars, the ship was cast loose from the moorings, and a few vigorous strokes impelled her into deep water.  Then a strong breeze sprang up from the west, the big sail was set, and the good ship bounded joyfully over the waves, with the white wake roaring behind.  The oars were shipped, the sheets made fast, and all the company pledged each other in brimming cups, drinking to their prosperous voyage.

The Visit to Nestor at Pylos

I

So all night long the ship clave her way; and at sunrise they reached the flat, sandy coast of Pylos.  There they found a great multitude assembled, keeping the feast of Poseidon with sacrifices of oxen.  The solemn rite was nearly ended when they brought their vessel to land.

“Courage, now,” said Mentor to Telemachus, seeing the young lad somewhat abashed by the presence of so large a company.  “Remember whom thou seekest, and lay thy modest scruples aside.  Thou seest that venerable man, still tall and erect, though he numbers more than a hundred years.  That is Nestor, son of Neleus, wisest of the Greeks, a king and the friend and counsellor of kings.  Go straight to him, and tell him thy errand.”

Seeing Telemachus, who was a homebred youth, still hanging back, in dread of that august presence, Mentor renewed his friendly remonstrances, “What, still tongue-tied?” he said, taking him by the arm, and leading him forward.  “Heaven mend thy wits, poor lad!  Knowest thou not that thou art a child of great hopes, and a favourite of heaven?”