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They had taken from the penteconter all her spare rowers, and to make the great ship bound over the steel-gray deep was children’s play. “We must save Hellas, and we can!” That was the thought of all from Themistocles to the meanest thranite. So at the beginning when the task seemed light and hands were strong. The breeze that had betrayed the Bozra ever sank lower. Presently it died altogether.
Again the note changed from despair to incitement, and when at last he called, “And can we cross the Ægean as never trireme crossed and pluck back Hellas from her fate?” thalamite, zygite, and thranite rose, tossing their brawny arms into the air. “We can!” Then Themistocles folded his own arms and smiled. He felt the god was still with him.
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