💡 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.
It was now the seventh year since Odysseus had landed on the island of Calypso, and all this time Athena had been powerless to help him. Gladly would she have long ago enabled him to escape, but Poseidon was still angry with him because he had blinded his son, the Cyclops, and, whenever in the council of the gods Athena raised her voice in favor of Odysseus, Poseidon made answer that nothing would induce him to forego his revenge; and Zeus was unwilling to vex his brother by taking part against him.
But it happened in the seventh year that a sacrifice was offered to Poseidon by the Ethiopians, who lived at the world’s end, and Poseidon went to the feast and remained there all the time it lasted. This was an opportunity for Athena, and she did not fail to make the most of it for the man who was dear to her.
All the gods except Poseidon were just then assembled on mount Olympus, that abode of bliss, where never snow could reach, nor rain, nor wind, but where the sky glowed always with unclouded splendor.
Athena took advantage of this and, going to Zeus, she said to him, “My heart is torn with grief for the hapless Odysseus. The nymph Calypso detains him on her island and with honeyed words endeavours to make him forget his home in Ithaca. But as for him, he has but one wish — namely, that he may return thither; and readily would he consent to die if he could but once again see the smoke rising from his beloved island. Wherefore art thou angry with him, Father Zeus? Was he not ever fatherly and mild and gentle towards his people? Did he not honor thee duly with rich sacrifices?”
“Dear child,” replied Zeus, “how should I be angry with the noble Odysseus? Wiser far is he than all other men, and he has never neglected his duties towards the gods. But Poseidon wills to punish him; his life indeed he cannot take away, for that is against the decree of Fate, but it is in his power to keep him a prisoner, far away from his home. But let us now with one accord resolve that Odysseus shall be suffered to return to Ithaca; what can Poseidon do against all of us?”
The other gods agreed, and Zeus called Hermes, the messenger, and sent him to the island of Calypso to tell the nymph that she must allow Odysseus to depart without delay in a suitable ship. It was a long distance to the island of Calypso, but the journeys of the gods were quickly accomplished. Hermes bound around his feet the golden sandals with which he could fly with the speed of thought over land and sea, and in his hand he took the staff whose lightest touch could send to sleep those who were awake, and wake those who slept. When, in the course of his flight, he came to the sea, he dipped down so low that the crests of the waves almost touched his breast — just as seagulls do when they are catching fish.
When he reached the island, he entered the grotto of Calypso, which was pleasantly situated in the midst of beautiful trees and shrubs. He found the nymph sitting alone, weaving and singing as she worked; on the hearth there burned a fire of fragrant cedar wood and frankincense, the odor of which was wafted to a great distance. Calypso recognized Hermes at once, for all the gods knew one another, however far they might dwell apart, and she asked him for what purpose he had come. When he had delivered the message of Zeus, she was greatly troubled, for she still hoped that at last Odysseus would put the thought of Ithaca out of his mind and be content to remain with her forever. But she did not dare to set herself against the will of Zeus, and with a heavy heart she declared herself ready to let Odysseus depart.
Then Hermes flew back to mount Olympus, and Calypso went down to the coast, where she found Odysseus sitting alone as usual, consumed with homesickness, weeping and looking out towards the sea.
She went up to him and said, “Weep no longer, for I am going to release thee. Take wood and make for thyself a boat. I will provision it with food and wine and send a favorable wind — that so, if it be the will of the gods, thou mayest return swiftly to thy home.”
But Odysseus did not trust the nymph; he could not believe that she really intended to help him, and he said, “How can I hope to cross the sea in a boat built by my own hands, when not even the best ships escape the fury of the winds and waves? Without thy good will it is useless for me to attempt it; therefore swear to me that thou hast in thy mind no evil design against me.”
Calypso smiled and stroked him gently with her hand as she answered, “Never dost thou forget thy accustomed caution. I swear then by heaven and earth, and by the water of the Styx —that most solemn oath that a god can take— that I have in my mind no purpose to harm thee. I will advise thee as I would advise myself.”
The nymph led Odysseus to a part of the island where there were some tall trees; of these he hewed down the best and fashioned out of them a little boat. It required no small degree of skill and care to work with the few tools —the hatchet, axe and gimlet— with which the goddess supplied him, and to fasten the planks together so that the waves might not break over the tiny boat, nor easily overturn it. When it was finished, he added a mast and rudder, and out of some materials with which the goddess furnished him he made a sail and fastened it to the mast.
By the fourth day, the boat was finished and could be rolled down to the sea upon rollers made of smoothly planed trees; on the fifth day Odysseus set out, well provisioned with food, wine, and water. How happy he was when he pushed off from the island and saw his sails swelling with the favorable wind! Calypso had told him that he must first go to the land of the Pheacians, and so steer as always to keep the sign of the Great Bear on his left. There was no time for sleep, and for seventeen nights he kept his eyes fixed on the Great Bear, ready to make use of the rudder the moment there was any fear of the boat diverging from the right course.