Alkibiades, a tale of the Great Athenian War

by Charles Hamilton Bromby

We have seen how at this time Alkibiades was helping his fellow-countrymen in Thrace. Nor was Lysandros idle. With the assistance of his friend Kyros, in a year’s time he was able to raise the Spartan fleet to more than its wonted strength. In September, 405, he appeared at the head of one hundred and twenty triremes before Lampsakos, which was still held by an Athenian garrison. He was soon followed by Konon and five other generals with one hundred and eighty ships, the last fleet which Athens had sent out having been increased by the vessels of the enemy she had captured off the Arginousan islands the year before. But they came too late for the relief of Lampsakos. It had already fallen. So they crossed the Hellespont, and anchored at the mouth of the Aigos Potamoi.

It is difficult to understand how anyone with any knowledge of naval tactics could have chosen to anchor in that unsheltered place, with an enemy so near at hand. Ships of war at that time were constructed to carry men rather than provisions, so that, except on short cruises, the crews were obliged to land day by day to obtain their daily food. There was no town near the station the generals had chosen where they could procure anything. They had to leave their ships and go some way inland, or along the coast, to buy such things as they were constantly in need of.

From his fortress Alkibiades saw the arrival of the Lakedaimonians, followed later by the Athenians. He watched the siege of Lampsakos, which he had taken from the enemy; he saw it fall again into the hands of that same enemy. He saw his countrymen approach the base of his high rock, and take up a position where, if they should be attacked, they must inevitably be destroyed. To him, with his quick perception, and with the experienced eye of a strategist, it appeared a token of mere madness in the commanders to have selected such a spot. His first impulse was to leave them there to take the consequence of their stupidity. But there were serving under them many whom he had himself commanded in past years, who had fought bravely under him, and with whom he had shared dangers, men whom he loved and had often led to victory. He was acquainted with the skill and cunning of Lysandros, and the cat-like cruelty of his nature. He saw him preparing for a final blow. He could stand by no longer, nor restrain his compassion for his country and his old comrades-in-arms, whose lives were every moment in such jeopardy, and who, if he did not interfere, must soon be slaughtered through the incapacity of those who led them.

With a great effort, which cost him very much, for it laid his proud soul open to rebuff, he mounted his Thrakian mare, and, tearing down the narrow road which led from his tower to the plain, as fast as she could carry him, lest his pride might make him change his resolution, he rode through the camp, and up to the tent of the six generals. He showed them the various objections to the station they had selected—how Lysandros must destroy them if he came upon them in that perilous position, as assuredly an admiral of his experience would endeavour to do. He offered to lead them himself against the enemy. They would not listen to him.

Then he prayed them by all that they held dear—the great interests of Athens concentrated on that final armament—at least to seek shelter in the neighbouring port of Sestos. ‘There,’ he said, ‘you will find secure anchorage, and markets where your crews can obtain all they want near at hand, and you can await the enemy’s attack in safety, or, when you see your opportunity, strike a blow at them.’

‘We are in command now, not you,’ was the reply of one of them. They bade him go about his business, nor dare to approach the Athenian lines again.

He went back slowly through the camp, an outcast, treated as an enemy. Some of his old friends and comrades recognised him, and sorrowfully followed him as far as they might go. Stopping to look back as he ascended his rugged hill, he saw the vast collection of war vessels lying quietly at anchor in ignorant security. He could see many an old friend among them. He knew some of them by name. Amongst them he discovered his old ship, his own Eros, patched up to do battle for the state once more. How many reminiscences came over him! He thought of the gladsome voyage he had once taken on her to Ephesos, in the heyday of his youth and splendour, when the god of love was emblazoned on her purple sails, and of the sorrowful tidings which met him as he came back home again, and made him pause and meditate a little upon life in the midst of its enjoyments. How many another expedition in her had turned out sorrowfully! He recalled how, decked with the red roses of a hot July, she had borne him off to Sicily, amid the cheering of the fickle people; how she had been taken away from him at Thurii, and how he had found his old companion again at Samos. How many pleasant places they had journeyed to together, and how many fights and triumphs they had shared! How well and steadfastly that good old ship had served him, always true and constant; and there it lay, a thing grown old! Would to the gods men were as true as masts and timber! Then he rode sadly up the steep hill, and reached his solitary fortress.

At least he had done what in him lay to save his country. And, as Athens had dealt with him before, so her degenerate servants had dealt with him that day, treating him with contumely and insult. It seemed worse to them that he should gain the meed of glory by their acting on his counsel than that the state should come to ruin by their rejecting it.

Five days afterwards, on the last day of September, at noon, the Athenian fleet lay unsuspectingly in the same position. The crews had gone to Sestos to buy food; the soldiers were dispersed foraging about the country. From his watch-tower Alkibiades beheld a single Lakedaimonian vessel leave the harbour of Lampsakos and cross the straits, followed at some distance by another ship. Then on a shield raised high upon her mast he saw the sunlight glisten. A similar flash was passed on, reflected in like way, by the second ship to those in port. He comprehended all its meaning. A sign had been sent that the Athenian fleet was left unguarded. He saw the Spartan ships come out silently and swiftly, and he saw Lysandros pounce upon his prey. Some of the deserted ships had one man on board, some two, some none at all. He saw the Spartans leap into them, cut their hawsers and their rigging, and move them away without resistance. Konon raised an alarm, and escaped with nine triremes. The sacred state ship, the Paralos, which was under better discipline and better guarded than the others, also escaped. That was all that was left out of a fleet of near two hundred vessels.

The Spartan hoplites, in their red tunics, landed in the bay, took possession of the camp, and as the Athenian soldiers, hearing the trumpet-call, returned, they were taken, one by one, as in a trap. The Lakedaimonians lost not a single man.