💡 This is a chapter from The Wanderings of Odysseus, by C. Witt & F. Younghusband ← Go there to read the full book free online; it is also available in paperback and Kindle editions.
Odysseus alone had been able to keep his hold of the ship, but now the planks gave way at the sides, and only the keel and the mast still held together. Around these he hastily fastened a rope and seated himself astride this rude raft as a rider across his horse. He had scarcely done so when the wind turned, and before long he found himself again between the two perilous rocks through which he had before passed with so much risk.
The current drove him towards Charybdis, who was just then engaged in sucking in the sea. The raft was hurled rapidly towards her mighty jaws, and it seemed that there was now no hope for Odysseus. But just above the opening grew the wild fig tree of which Circe had told him; its branches hung down almost into the water, and Odysseus seized hold of them, and remained hanging by his arms to the fig tree when his raft was carried down the throat of Charybdis. A long time it seemed to him before the flood was poured forth again, for the fatigue of his position was very great; but at last everything was shot out, and Odysseus dropped from the fig tree just as the raft was passing under him and succeeded in getting hold of the rope and hauling himself onto it. For nine days and nights after this he was tossed about on the sea, but on the tenth day the current carried him to some land.
It was the island of Ogygia, the home of the beautiful nymph Calypso. She received Odysseus with the utmost kindness and did everything in her power to comfort him and make him forget all the toils and privations he had undergone. But notwithstanding all this, Odysseus was destined to pass a miserable time in her island. Hitherto he had had to encounter monsters, men-eaters, and all kinds of horrors and perils of the sea, and had barely escaped with his life; now he was secure from violence, but was farther off than ever from obtaining the desire of his heart — namely, the power of returning to his home. The love of Calypso was as great a hindrance to his happiness as the treachery and enmity he had previously met with.
Calypso lived quite alone on her island, unvisited by either gods or men, and, now that such a noble-looking hero had come to her shores, she was well-pleased to have his society and would not let him leave her. She wanted him to be her husband, and said that she would obtain for him from Zeus the gift of immortality and perpetual youth, so that they might live together throughout all eternity. But the prospect had no attraction for Odysseus; the nymph was indeed far more beautiful than Penelope, but nevertheless he felt that he would willingly die like other men, if only he might first return to his dear wife and much-loved son.
Notwithstanding all his cleverness, Odysseus was unable to devise any means of removing the obstacle with which the love of Calypso now blocked his path. Flight was impossible, for all around the island stretched the desolate sea, and there was no boat of any sort with which to make his escape. So one year after another passed slowly away. All day long he used to sit on the rocks by the sea, gazing in the direction in which lay his own island of Ithaca, and happy beyond words would he have been if he could have seen in the distance the smoke rising from his home. But he was still far away from it, and bitter were the tears that fell from his eyes because all prospect of his return thither was now cut off from him.