rse shouts of the rowers--went up to heaven in a clamorous
babel. "Swallows' chatter," cried the deriding Hellenes, but hearts were
beating quicker, breath was coming faster in many a breast by Salamis
then,--and no shame. For now was the hour of trial, the wrestle of Olympian
Zeus with Ahura-Mazda. Now would a mighty one speak from the heavens to
Hellas, and say to her "Die!" or "Be!"

The Barbarians' armadas were forming. Their black beaks, all pointing
toward Salamis, stretched in two bristling lines from the islet of
Psyttaleia--whence the shields of the landing force glittered--to that
brighter glitter on the promontory by AEgaleos where sat the king. To
charge their array seemed charging a moving hedge of spears, impenetrable
in defence, invincible in attack. Slowly, rocked by the sea and rowing in
steady order, the armament approached Salamis. And still the Greek ships
lay spread out along the shore, each trireme swinging at the end of the
cable which moored her to the land, each mariner listening to the beatings
of his own heart and straining his eyes on one ship now--Eurybiades's--which
rode at the centre of their line and far ahead.

All could read the order of battle at last as squadron lay against
squadron. On the west, under Xerxes's own eye, the Athenians must charge
the serried Phoenicians, at the centre the AEginetans must face the
Cilicians, on the east Adeimantus and his fellows from Peloponnese must
make good against the vassal Ionians. But would the signal to row and
strike never come? Had some god numbed Eurybiades's will? Was treachery
doing its darkest work? With men so highly wrought moments were precious.
The bow strung too long will lose power. And wherefore did Eurybiades
tarry?

Every soul in the _Nausicaae_ kept his curses soft, and waited--waited till
that trailing monster, the Persian fleet, had crept halfway from
Psyttaleia toward them, then up the shrouds of the Spartan admiral leaped
a flag. Eager hands drew it, yet it seemed mounting as a snail, till at
the masthead the clear wind blew it wide,--a plain red banner, but as it
spread hundreds of axes were hewing the cables that bound the triremes to
the shore, every Greek oar was biting the sea, the ships were leaping away
from Salamis. From the strand a shout went up, a prayer more than a cheer,
mothers, wives, little ones, calling it together:--

"Zeus prosper you!"

A roar from the fleet, the tearing of countless blades on the tho