n the fire spring from his eyes as he put forth a
godlike might. Heracles and Athena Polias had been with him when he threw
his strength upon the bands that held his arms. The crushing of Lycon down
had been no feat like this. In a twinkling the cords about his wrists were
snapped. He swung his free hands in the air.

"Athens!" he shouted, whilst the crew stood spellbound. "Hermione! Glaucon
is still Glaucon!"

Hib had grasped the axe, but he never knew what smote him once behind the
ear and sent him rolling lifeless against the bulwark. In an instant his
bright weapon was swinging high above the athlete's head. Glaucon stood
terrible as Achilles before the cowering Trojans.

"Woe! woe! he is Melkarth. We are lost men!" groaned the crew.

"At him, fools!" bawled Hasdrubal, first to recover wits, "his feet are
still shackled."

But whilst the master called to them, the axe dashed down upon the
fetters, and one great stroke smote the coupling-link in twain. The
Athenian stood a moment looking right and left, the axe dancing as a toy
in his grasp, and a smile on his face inviting, "Prove me."

A javelin singing from the hand of Adherbal flew at him. An imperceptible
bending of the body, a red streak on Glaucon's naked side, and it dug into
the deck. Yet whilst it quivered, was out again and hurled through the
Carthaginian's breast and shoulders. He fell in a heap beside the Libyan.

Another howl from the sailors.

"Not Melkarth, but Baal the Dragon-Slayer. We are lost. Who can contend
with him?"

"Cowards!" thundered Hasdrubal, whipping the sword from his thigh, "do you
not know these three sniff our true business? If they live when the
penteconter comes, it's not prison but Sheol that's waiting. Their lives
or ours. One rush and we have this madman down!"

But their terrible adversary gave the master no time to gather his
myrmidons. One stroke of the axe had already released Phormio, who
clutched the arms of his wife.

"The cabin!" the ready-witted fishmonger commanded, and Lampaxo, scarce
knowing what she did, released her ungentle hold on Lars and suffered her
husband to drag her down the ladder. Glaucon went last; no man loving
death enough to come within reach of the axe. Hasdrubal saw his victims
escaping under his eyes and groaned.

"There is only one hatchway. We must force it. Darts, belaying-pins,
ballast stones--fling anything down. It's for life or death!"

"The penteconter is four furlongs away!