Two of the attendants now came to spread the evening meal under a canvas canopy, which bore upon it the picture of an eagle with outstretched wings. This sheltering canopy was made of the most beautiful and costly material in the ships which belonged to any great Roman noble. Even that of Burrhus was of purple silk with an embroidered edge, but the other two small galleys were less costly in their furnishings, and Hyacintha slept in the superior vessel, only boarding the other in the day-time that she might be near her brother.
This vessel was under the command of a Roman named Caius, who was a fine, noble-looking man, of few words; but who, nevertheless, had conceived a great interest in the two children of the noble house who were under the care of Burrhus.
He now drew near, and asked Hyacintha whether she and her attendant would repair to the galley of Burrhus, or remain on board to partake of the evening meal with Casca.
“I would fain stay here,” she answered, “till the merriment is over there. The loud voices and music drown the sweet ripple of the water against the prow, which I love to hear. And, moreover, good Caius,” Hyacintha said, “I feel safer aboard your vessel from the pirates’ attacks.”
Caius’s dark eyes were fixed on a spot in the horizon, and he did not reply. He stood motionless at the prow, gazing out in the same direction, till the moon, nearly at the full, lifted her round face above the distant horizon, and sent a flood of silvery light across the water which seemed to come straight to the spot where the galley was curtseying on the rising waves.
A dark speck upon the line of light was now visible to all eyes.
“Is that a Roman galley?” Casca asked.
Before he could get an answer, Caius had given the word for all sails to be set.
Then he went to the prow, and shouted to those in Burrhus’s galley that the foe was nearing them fast.
“All sails set,” was shouted back from the third galley.