done
in sight of all three ships. For whilst Themistocles was with Cimon,
Simonides and Sicinnus had taken Glaucon to the _Nausicaae's_ forecastle.
Now as the penteconter was casting off, again he came to view, and the
shout that greeted him was not of fear this time, but wonder and delight.
The Alcmaeonid was clean-shaven, his hair clipped close, the black dye even
in a manner washed away. He had flung off the rough seaman's dress, and
stood forth in all his godlike beauty.

Before all men Cimon, coming from the cabin, ran and kissed him once more,
whilst the rowers clapped their hands.

"Apollo--it is Delian Apollo! Glaucon the Beautiful lives again. _Io! Io!
paean!_"

"Yes," spoke Themistocles, in a burst of gladness. "The gods take one
friend, they restore another. OEdipus has read the sphinx's riddle. Honour
this man, for he is worthy of honour through Hellas!"

The officers ran to the athlete, after them the sailors. They covered his
face and hands with kisses. He seemed escaped the Carthaginian to perish
in the embrace of his countrymen. Never was his blush more boyish, more
divine. Then a bugle-blast sent every man to his station. Cimon leaped
across to his smaller ship. The rowers of the _Nausicaae_ ran out their
oars, the hundred and seventy blades trailed in the water. Every man took
a long breath and fixed his eyes on the admiral standing on the poop. He
held a golden goblet set with turquoise, and filled with the blood-red
Pramnian wine. Loudly Themistocles prayed.

"Zeus of Olympus and Dodona, Zeus Orchios, rewarder of the oath-breaker,
to whom the Hellenes do not vainly pray, and thou Athena of the Pure Eyes,
give ear. Make our ship swift, our arms strong, our hearts bold. Hold back
the battle that we come not too late. Grant that we confound the guilty,
put to flight the Barbarian, recompense the traitor. So to you and all
other holy gods whose love is for the righteous we will proffer prayer and
sacrifice forever. Amen."

He poured out the crimson liquor; far into the sea he flung the golden
cup.

"Heaven speed you!" shouted from the penteconter. Themistocles nodded. The
_keleustes_ smote his gavel upon the sounding-board. The triple oar bank
rose as one and plunged into the foam. A long "h-a!" went up from the
benches. The race to save Hellas was begun.

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE RACE TO SAVE HELLAS

The chase had cost the Athenian