We sailed the strait in terror. On one side Scylla; on the other Charybdis sucked the salt water down in a terrible whirl. When she vomited it up she boiled like a cauldron on a great fire and the spray fell on both high cliffs. When she swallowed, the whole inside showed in turmoil, and the rock around roared dreadfully, and the bottom showed black with sand. Pale fear took us as we looked at her and while we stared Scylla snatched six of my best men from the hollow ship — the strongest hands I had.
I saw their hands and feet as they were hauled aloft. They cried out and called me by name in their last agony. As a fisherman on a jutting rock casts bait for little fishes, then hauls them gasping ashore, so they gasped as she lifted them to her cave and ate them at the entrance, still screaming and stretching their hands to me in that struggle — the most pitiful thing I saw in all my hardships on the sea.
When we had fled Scylla and dread Charybdis we came to the island of Helios, where the beautiful cattle and fat sheep of the sun-god pastured. Still out at sea I heard the lowing of stalled cattle and the bleating of sheep, and the words of Tiresias and of Circe came back to me. I told the men the prophecy: better to keep driving over the misty deep than land and risk the cattle. Their hearts sank. Eurylochus answered insolently that I was iron — always driving them without rest. They were worn out; night was near; a sudden storm could smash them. Let them beach by a stream, cook supper, and sail at dawn. The others backed him. I made them swear not to kill any herd or flock, but eat only Circe’s stores. They swore. We moored near fresh water and slept.
In the third watch of the night Zeus raised a howling gale. Clouds hid land and sea; night rushed down from heaven. At dawn we hauled the ship into a cave where the nymphs had their fine seats and dancing floors. I called the men again and warned them we had stores in the ship — they must not touch the cattle, or we would suffer, for they belonged to a dread god, Helios, who sees all and hears all.
For a full month the South Wind blew without break — only South and East. As long as grain and red wine held they spared the cattle, clinging to life. When the ship’s stores ran out they ranged with bent hooks for fish and birds and whatever came to hand; hunger wore them down. I went inland to pray to the gods for a way out. When I had washed my hands where there was shelter from the wind I called on all the Olympians. They poured sweet sleep on my eyelids.