f numbers should prevail in the battle. In our
days, in the hours before such a decisive struggle a people watches the
newspapers, and waits for tidings of the fight in a turmoil of mingled
hopes and fears. But whatever may be the result the individual, who is thus
a spectator at a distance, runs no personal risks. It was otherwise in
those days of merciless heathen warfare, and here all would see for
themselves the changing fortunes of the fight on which their own fate
depended.

The Greek fleet had been formed in two divisions of unequal strength. The
smaller anchored in the western opening of the straits, furthest from the
advance of the enemy's armada, and was detailed to prevent any attack
through the narrows on the Greek rear. The main body, three hundred strong,
was moored in successive lines, just inside the opening of the straits to
the eastward. The best ships, the most trusted leaders, the picked warriors
were in the foremost line. On them the result of the day would chiefly
depend, and here the man who had planned it all, commanded an Athenian war
galley in the centre of the array. In this fact we see another striking
difference between past and present. The modern specialization of offices
and capacities which divides between different individuals the functions of
political leader, general, and admiral was yet centuries distant in the
future. Themistocles, who had advised the policy of naval war, was to be
the foremost leader in the battle, and though purely naval tactics were to
have some part in it, it was to be to a great extent a land battle fought
out on floating platforms, so that one who had learned the art of war on
land could act as an admiral on the sea.

Sixty thousand men-rowers and warriors were crowded on board the Greek
fleet. At least twice as many must have been borne on the decks and rowers'
benches of the Persian armada. Midway in the opening of the straits the
Persians had occupied the rocky island of Psytalia. Its ledges and its
summit glittered with arms, and beside it some light craft had taken post
to assist friendly vessels in distress. Past the islet the great fleet
swept in four successive divisions driven by the measured stroke of tens of
thousands of oars. On the left of the leading line was the Phoenician fleet
led by the tributary kings of Tyre and Sidon, a formidable squadron, for
these war galleys were manned by real seamen, bold sailors who knew not
only the ways of the lan