eir decks with long leaps, or here and there ran deftly on projecting
spars, for what athlete of Hellas could not run the tight rope? In an
instant the long rowers' deck of the Tyrian was won, and the attackers
cheered and blessed Athena. But this was only storming the first outpost.
Like castles forward and aft reared the prow and poop, whither the sullen
defenders retreated. Turning at bay, the Phoenicians swarmed back into the
waist, waiting no scourging from their officers. Now their proud admiral
himself plunged into the _melee_, laying about with a mighty sword worthy
of Ajax at Troy, showing he was a prince of the Aryans indeed. It took all
the steadiness of Ameinias and his stoutest men to stop the rush, and save
the Athenians in turn from being driven overboard. The rush was halted
finally, though this was mere respite before a fiercer breaking of the
storm. The two ships were drifting yet closer to the strand. Only the fear
of striking their own men kept the Persians around the king from clouding
the air with arrows. Glaucon saw the grandees near Xerxes's throne
brandishing their swords. In imagination he saw the monarch leaping from
his throne in agony as at Thermopylae.

"Back to the charge," pealed Ariamenes's summons to the Tyrians; "will you
be cowards and dogs beneath the very eyes of the king?"

The defenders answered with a second rush. Others again hurled darts from
the stern and foreship. Then out of the maelstrom of men and weapons came a
truce. Athenian and Tyrian drew back, whilst Themistocles and Ariamenes
were fighting blade to blade. Twice the giant Persian almost dashed the
Hellene down. Twice Themistocles recovered poise, and paid back stroke for
stroke. He had smitten the helmet from Ariamenes's head and was swinging
for a master-blow when his foot slipped on the bloody plank. He staggered.
Before he could recover, the Persian had brought his own weapon up, and
flung his might into the downward stroke.

"The admiral--lost!" Athenians shuddered together, but with the groan shot
a javelin. Clear through the scales of the cuirass it tore, and into the
Persian's shoulder,--Glaucon's cast, never at the Isthmus truer with hand
or eye. The ponderous blade turned, grazed the Athenian's corselet,
clattered on the deck. The Persian sprang back disarmed and powerless. At
sight thereof the Phoenicians flung down their swords. True Orientals, in
the fate of their chief they saw decreeing Destiny,--what u