e attackers
thought they had to deal simply with three ordinary Romans, who meant
to sell their lives dearly. Another rush; the Imperator was forced
hard, so that another push would have sent him plunging into the sea;
but his companions sent the attackers reeling back, and there was more
breathing time. The Alexandrians had received a taste of these Roman
blades, and they did not enjoy it. Stripping the dead and picking up
lost arms was more profitable than bearding the three lions. The
galley was drawing nearer. Drusus began to think of something else
besides thrusting at men before him.
"They will give us time to escape, Imperator."
"I think so;" but as Caesar spoke all three started in dismay. There
was a new face among the little band immediately opposed to
them--Pratinas.
The Greek had never looked so handsome as in armour. His beautifully
polished mail sat on him with perfect grace; he was a model for an
artist's Ares, the beautiful genius of battle. _He_, at least, knew
whose were those three stern, set faces defiantly peering over the low
parapet that ran waist-high along the edge of the mole.
"At them!" cried the Hellene. "A thousand drachmas to the man who
brings the middle Roman down!"
The "middle Roman" was Caesar. The enemy came on again, this time some
springing over the parapet to run along the narrow outer platform and
attack from either side. But the galley was still nearer.
"Throw off your armour and leap!" It was Drusus who commanded now, and
Caesar who obeyed. The Imperator tore off his greaves and helmet,
caught his general's cloak in his teeth, that it might not fall as a
trophy to the foe, and sprang down into the waves; it was all done in
a twinkling. But, quick as the leap had been, it was but just in time.
A rush of irresistible numbers carried Drusus off of his feet, and he
fell also--but fell in all his armour. It was an instant too crowded
for sensations. He just realized that his helmet tumbled from his head
as he fell backward. The weight of his greaves righted him while he
was in the air. He struck the water with his feet. There was a
chilling shock; and then, as he went down, the shield on his left arm
caught the water in its hollow and bore him upward. Nature reasserted
itself; by a mighty tug at the straps he wrenched away his
breastplate, and could make shift to float. The short harbour waves
lifted him, and he saw Caesar striking out boldly toward the now
rapidly appro
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