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Have I not said it?” “Dare you die for her?” “I made the choice once with Leonidas.” “Dare you do a thing which, if it slip, may give you into the hands of the Barbarians to be torn by wild horses or of the Greeks to be crucified?” “But it shall not slip!” “Euge! that is a noble answer. Now let us come.” “Whither?” “To Eurybiades’s flag-ship. Then I can know whether you must risk the deed.”

He did all things coolly, as if he had been bearing an invitation to a feast, took his post in the stern of the skiff deliberately, then turned to the silent man with him. “Pull.” “Whither?” Glaucon was already tugging the oars. “To Eurybiades’s ship. Themistocles is waiting. And again all speed.” The line of twinkling water betwixt the skiff and the Persian widened.

That had been the command, but as the Athenian left the Spartan flag-ship in his pinnace he heard Globryas, the admiral of Sicyon, muttering, “Headstrong foolhe shall not destroy us!” and saw Adeimantus turn back for a word in Eurybiades’s ear. The Spartan had shaken his head, but Themistocles did not deceive himself.

Eurybiades’s ship had drifted behind to the line of her sisters, as in defiance a towering Sidonian sprang ahead of the Barbarian line of battle, twenty trumpets from her poop and foreship asking, “Dare you meet me?” The Greek line became almost stationary. Some ships were backing water. It was a moment which, suffered to slip unchecked, leads to irreparable disaster.

For the fourth time the subaltern who stood at Eurybiades’s elbow turned the water-glass that marked the passing of the hours. The lamps in the low-ceiled cabin were flickering dimly. Men glared on one another across the narrow table with drawn and heated faces. Adeimantus of Corinth was rising to reply to the last appeal of the Athenian.

At the gathering of the Greek chiefs in Eurybiades’s cabin Themistocles had spoken one word many times,—“Fight!” To which Adeimantus, the craven admiral of Corinth, and many another had answered:— “Delay! Back to the Isthmus! Risk nothing!” Then at last the son of Neocles silenced them, not with arguments but threats. “Either here in the narrow straits we can fight the king or not at all.

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?

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 nowEurybiades’swhich rode at the centre of their line and far ahead.