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But above all things speed was needful. The athlete put his strength upon the oars till the heavy skiff shot across the black void of the water. It was little short of midnight when Glaucon swung the skiff away from the tall trireme of Ariabignes, the Barbarian’s admiral. The deed was done. He had sat in the bobbing boat while Sicinnus had been above with the Persian chiefs.
All that Glaucon had seen of the Barbarian’s might, since awakening in Sardis, told him Xerxes was indeed destined to go forth conquering and to conquer. Then the vision of the Acropolis, the temples, the Guardian Goddess, returned. He banished all disloyal thoughts for the instant. The Prince walked with his wife, Glaucon with Roxana.
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 Nausicaä had run out his blade again.
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