ed by the commanders, and displayed
the usual courage and resolution of Greeks, he was sure of victory.

As soon as Themistocles had finished his speech, he ordered his men to
embark, and the fleet immediately afterward formed itself in battle
array.

Notwithstanding the strictness of the order and discipline which
generally prevailed in Greek armaments of every kind, there was great
excitement and much confusion in the fleet while making all these
preparations, and this excitement and confusion increased continually as
the morning advanced and the hour for the conflict drew nigh. The
passing of boats to and fro, the dashing of the oars, the clangor of the
weapons, the vociferations of orders by the officers and of responses by
the men, mingled with each other in dreadful turmoil, while all the time
the vast squadrons were advancing toward each other, each party of
combatants eager to begin the contest. In fact, so full of wild
excitement was the scene, that at length the battle was found to be
raging on every side, while no one knew or could remember how it began.
Some said that a ship, which had been sent away a short time before to
AEgina to obtain succors, was returning that morning, and that she
commenced the action as she came through the Persian lines. Others said
the Greek squadron advanced as soon as they could see, and attacked the
Persians; and there were some whose imaginations were so much excited by
the scene that they saw a female form portrayed among the dim mists of
the morning, that urged the Greeks onward by beckonings and calls. They
heard her voice, they said, crying to them, "Come on! come on! this is
no time to linger on your oars."

However this may be, the battle was soon furiously raging on every part
of the Bay of Salamis, exhibiting a wide-spread scene of conflict, fury,
rage, despair, and death, such as had then been seldom witnessed in any
naval conflict, and such as human eyes can now never look upon again. In
modern warfare the smoke of the guns soon draws an impenetrable veil
over the scene of horror, and the perpetual thunder of the artillery
overpowers the general din. In a modern battle, therefore, none of the
real horrors of the conflict can either be heard or seen by any
spectator placed beyond the immediate scene of it. The sights and the
sounds are alike buried and concealed beneath the smoke and the noise of
the cannonading. There were, however, no such causes in this case to