ith a leap. Men wrought at the oar butts, tugging
like mad, their backs toward the foe, conscious only that duty bade them
send the trireme across the waves as a stone whirls from the sling. Thus
the men, but Themistocles, on the poop, standing at the captain's and
governor's side, never took his gaze from the great Barbarian that leaped
defiantly to meet them.

"Can we risk the trick?" his swift question to Ameinias.

The captain nodded. "With this crew--yes."

Two stadia, one stadium, half a stadium, a ship's length, the triremes
were charging prow to prow, rushing on a common death, when Ameinias
clapped a whistle to his lips and blew shrilly. As one man every rower on
the port-side leaped to his feet and dragged his oar inward through its
row-hole. The deed was barely done ere the Sidonian was on them. They
heard the roaring water round her prow, the cracking of the whips as the
petty officers ran up and down the gangways urging on the panting cattle
at the oars. Then almost at the shock the governor touched his steering
oar. The _Nausicaae_ swerved. The prow of the Sidonian rushed past them. A
shower of darts pattered down on the deck of the Hellene, but a twinkling
later from the Barbarians arose a frightful cry. Right across her triple
oar bank, still in full speed, ploughed the Athenian. The Sidonian's oars
were snapping like faggots. The luckless rowers were flung from their
benches in heaps. In less time than the telling every oar on the
Barbarian's port-side had been put out of play. The _diekplous_, favourite
trick of the Grecian seamen, had never been done more fairly.

Now was Themistocles's chance. He used it. There was no need for him to
give orders to the oar master. Automatically every rower on the port-tiers
of the _Nausicaae_ had run out his blade again. The governor sent the head
of the trireme around with a grim smile locked about his grizzled lips. It
was no woman's task which lay before them. Exposing her whole broadside
lay the long Sidonian; she was helpless, striving vainly to crawl away
with her remaining oar banks. Her people were running to and fro, howling
to Baal, Astarte, Moloch, and all their other foul gods, and stretching
their hands for help to consorts too far away.

"_Aru! Aru! Aru!_" was the shout of the oar master; again the _Nausicaae_
answered with her leap. Straight across the narrow water she shot, the
firm hand of the governor never veering now. The stroke grew faster,
f