ould do to prepare the ship had long been done. The slim hull one hundred
and fifty feet long had been stripped of every superfluous rope and spar.
The masts had been lowered. On the cat-heads hung the anchors weighted
with stone to fend off an enemy, astern towed the pinnace ready to drag
alongside and break the force of the hostile ram. The heavy-armed marines
stood with their long boarding spears, to lead an attack or cast off
grappling-irons. But the true weapon of the _Nausicaae_ was herself. To
send the three-toothed beak through a foeman's side was the end of her
being. To meet the shock of collision two heavy cables had been bound
horizontally around the hull from stem to stern. The oarsmen,--the
_thranites_ of the upper tier, the _zygites_ of the middle, the
_thalamites_ of the lower,--one hundred and seventy swart, nervous-eyed
men, sat on their benches, and let their hands close tight upon those oars
which trailed now in the drifting water, but which soon and eagerly should
spring to life. At the belt of every oarsman dangled a sword, for
boarders' work was more than likely. Thirty spare rowers rested
impatiently on the centre deck, ready to leap wherever needed. On the
forecastle commanded the _proreus_, Ameinias's lieutenant, and with him
the _keleustes_, the oar master who must give time on his sounding-board
for the rowing, and never fail,--not though the ships around reeled down to
watery grave. And finally on the poop by the captain stood the
"governor,"--knotted, grizzled, and keen,--the man whose touch upon the
heavy steering oars might give the _Nausicaae_ life or destruction when the
ships charged beak to beak.

"The trireme is ready, admiral," reported Ameinias, as Themistocles came
up leisurely from the stern-cabin.

The son of Neocles threw back his helmet, that all might see his calm,
untroubled face. He wore a cuirass of silvered scale-armour over his
purple chiton. At his side walked a young man, whom the ship's people
imagined the deserter of the preceding night, but he had drawn his helmet
close.

"This is Critias," said Themistocles, briefly, to the navarch; "he is a
good caster. See that he has plenty of darts."

"One of Themistocles's secret agents," muttered the captain to the
governor, "we should have guessed it." And they all had other things to
think of than the whence and wherefore of this stranger.

It was a weary, nervous interval. Men had said everything, done
everything, hop