Just at that moment a dazzling flash of lightning darted from the dark sky far away, followed in a few moments by the roll of distant thunder. Three white birds, one small and two large ones, flew with rapid strokes of their long wings over the ship, following each other at precisely the same distance, as though bound together by some invisible chain. They mounted higher and higher as if they wanted to soar into the sky and soon became mere indistinct specks.
“Look!” exclaimed Charicleia, her face radiant with joy, “they come from the right and move towards the left. My prayer will be fulfilled.” And kneeling, she stretched her arms towards the sky, saying: “Dechomai ton oiōnon! I accept the omen.”
Again from the distance, as if in confirmation, echoed a low peal of thunder.
“But,” remarked Glaucus, “there were three birds, one smaller than the others...?”
“My friend,” said Charicleia, clasping his hands, “perhaps it is the will of the gods that we must die while Callias is still a child. In that case I accept the omen for him also. Let him follow us!”
Whatever impression this scene had made upon Glaucus, it had not escaped his notice that meantime a strange tumult had arisen on deck. Eager, anxious conversation echoed from the stern where the steersman stood, several young slaves were running to and fro, nay even the lazy sailors in the bow were beginning to move. Some of them strolled slowly past the tent.
“What has happened?” asked Glaucus. “A small vessel has been sighted in the offing....” began one.
“Which seems to be following us,” added another.
Glaucus went to the steersman.
“Ever since we passed Rhodus,” said the latter, “that little ship yonder has been following us, always steering in the same direction. Twice I have intentionally tacked, and each time I saw that the vessel turned with us. So I fear she is a Cilician pirate.”