But they were men of mettle, and would not escape to leave their comrades behind. Even as the two fresh Carthaginian hexiremes closed up, one on each side of the ship of Æmilius, which was still locked with the hexireme first engaged, the two outside Roman ships returned and closed in upon their outer sides. Down fell the crows once more, the spikes penetrating the decks, and once more the battle was raging on all sides, and it raged with fury. At length, Æmilius, quite tired out, was beaten to his knees by a heavy sword blow, which, falling on the junction of neck and shoulder, went through the leather armour-flaps lying between helmet and cuirass.
Like a tigress Cleandra sprung to his side, and, with a terrible blow with her war axe, clove his assailant’s skull in twain before he could repeat the blow. A Carthaginian soldier behind the fallen man now pierced her in turn with a spear, full in the bosom. She fell upon Æmilius, her life-blood mingling with his own, while a Roman struck down the Carthaginian who had pierced Cleandra.
At length, it was becoming evident that the Romans were overmatched by these two ships full of fresh men. Moreover, the oarsmen of the first hexireme had now left their banks of oars, and arming themselves with the arms of dead comrades or of foemen, were joining in the fray.
Elissa stood on the end of the poop looking on. The Carthaginian flag was lying on the taffrail, and, unaware of what she was doing, she was leaning against it, clasping it with one hand. While she was standing thus, there came surging forward from one of the other ships, upon the bloody deck of that whereon she stood herself, an enormous man, a regular giant. He was smiting with a double-edged sword to right and left, and clearing as he went a lane before him. The affrighted and wearied-out Romans still alive upon Elissa’s ship fled before him, and crossing the Carthaginian ships, sprung to their outer vessels, and attempted to cast loose the crows again. One, and one ship only succeeded in so doing, and now the battle was ending, indeed ended. At that moment the giant arrived, with his bloody sword raised, before Hannibal’s daughter herself. He saw the Carthaginian flag, and it caught his attention before he recognised the woman’s face. Then he knew her again.
“Elissa! Art not thou Elissa? By the great gods, ’tis Elissa herself!”
But she had recognised him for several moments past, despite his scarred cheek and grizzling hair. Thinking him dead, she had been watching him spell-bound, fancying that she saw a spirit.
“Ay, Maharbal, I am Elissa, even Hannibal’s daughter. And thou, art thou indeed Maharbal in the flesh? I heard that thou wast slain at Salapia.”
“And what dost thou on this Roman ship, Elissa? As for me, thou seest I was but half slain, since I have just slain half of these Romans in revenge.”
“I was on my way from Philip of Macedon, from whom these Romans did rescue me; and I was about to marry Cornelius Scipio, and thus bring about a peace between Carthage and Rome.” She looked him calmly in the face as she replied thus.
“Thou marry Scipio! By Moloch, never! That intention of thine I have, thank the gods, now frustrated.”