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Updated: June 29, 2025
The Athenians, formed in line, sailed round and round them, and forced them to contract their circle, by continually brushing past and making as though they would attack at once, having been previously cautioned by Phormio not to do so till he gave the signal.
Hear, Moloch!” chorussed the crew; and gathering courage from necessity seized boat-hooks, oars, dirks, and all other handy weapons for their attack. But below the released prisoners had not been idle. Never—Glaucon knew it—had his brain been clearer, his invention more fertile than now, and Phormio was not too old to cease to be a valiant helper. The cabin was small.
A little later the band was threading its stealthy way down the black streets. Four of the Carthaginians carried Glaucon, slung hands and feet over a pole. They dared not trust him on his feet. Phormio and Lampaxo walked, closely pinioned and pricked on by the captain’s dagger. They were soon at the deserted strand, and their ship’s pinnace lay upon the beach.
To complete their confusion, the morning breeze began to blow from the gulf; and Phormio, who had been waiting for this, now gave the signal for attack. The Peloponnesians hardly attempted any defence; for the unskilful crews of the galleys could not manage their oars in the rising sea, and the steersmen had consequently no control of their vessels.
Aiding a traitor!” Then she began whimpering through her nose. “Mu! mu! leave the villain to his fate. Think of me if not of your own safety. Woe! when was a woman more misused?” But here her lament ended, for Phormio, with the firmness of a man thoroughly determined, thrust a rag into her mouth and with Bias’s help bound her down upon the couch by means of a convenient fish-cord.
“Which is he?” asked Democrates again, stepping softly as though going to danger. “The further one is Phormio, the nearer is my Lord’s enemy. Your Excellency need not fear to draw close. He is quite secure.” “Give me the candle.” Democrates held the light high and trod gently over to the prostrate men. Hiram spoke rightly that his victim was secure.
As this port was undefended, Phormio was compelled to return thither. The Peloponnesian fleet advanced in line of four abreast with the Spartan admiral and the twenty Spartan triremes the best in the fleet in the lead. At the signal from the admiral the column swung "left into line" and bore down in line abreast upon the Athenians who were ranging along the shore in line ahead.
The fishmonger stood scratching his thin hairs. Another howl from Lampaxo decided him. “Are you a traitor, too? Away with the wretch to prison!” “I’m resolved,” cried Phormio, striking his thigh. “Only an honest man could get such hatred from my wife. If they’ve not tracked you yet, they’re not likely to find you before morning. My cousin Brasidas is master of the Solon, and owes a good turn—”
From the tavern by the mooring came harping and the clatter of cups, while two women—the worse for wine—ran out to drag the newcomers in to their revel. Phormio slapped the slatterns aside with his staff. In the same fearful waking dream Glaucon saw Phormio demanding the shipmaster.
It is interesting to observe what strategy Phormio adopted in this difficult situation. In the campaign of Salamis, Themistocles chose the narrow waters of the strait as the safest position for a fleet outnumbered by the enemy, because of the protection offered to the flanks by the opposite shores. But Phormio, commanding a fleet about one-fourth that of his adversary, chose the open sea.
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