An hour then wearily passed, with the relay at the pumps doing their utmost.
“Two cubita and one-eighth!”
As the report came to his ear through a small aperture from below, the face of Vivian lost color; but despite the news he went over to the pumps and gave words of encouragement to the workers.
“By the Salaminian Jupiter, we shall win!” said he; and then passing along, he ordered a part of the crew to begin at once to throw the cargo overboard. He said nothing of the report from below, but the significance of the last order was understood by all. Over the slippery, reeling decks they began with a will to unload the Salapiæ.
They were still swept along with unabated speed. [pg 257]The few dim, moving lanterns, like fireflies in the blackness, seemed to make the night thicker. The shrill creaking of the pumps sounded like ominous groans of prophetic woe as it rose above the steady, deep bellowing of the gale.
Another hour dragged itself slowly by.
“Two cubita and a quarter!”
The night had hardly begun.
Their former enemy, the wind, now gave them the most hope. But if it held, they could not hope to reach Tarsus before the morning of the third day from Salamis.
It was a race!