While the latter was hurriedly eating the meal before returning to Dorian’s boat, Polycles came back from the garden and Lycon hastened to say:
“I see that many of the citizens have assembled here. Could not some of the younger ones relieve one another in guarding the burned houses, that no one in the absence of the master and the darkness of the night, may get in and take what still remains. A watch will be kept from the boats upon the houses in the flooded streets.”
Instead of answering, Polycles turned to the people seated at the tables and called in a loud voice:
“Citizens, this stranger puts us to shame. He seems to think more and take wiser care of our city than we who were born and have spent our lives here. Do you know what he proposes?”
Polycles had scarcely repeated Lycon’s advice ere twelve or fourteen young men came forward, ready for the required service. Soon after they were divided into three parties, the first of which, supplied with a sack of Chian wine and accompanied by some slaves, went to the scene of the fire.
“My house is yours,” said Polycles to Lycon, “come here when there is nothing more to be saved. You will need rest and sleep if the night is quiet.”
Before Lycon, followed by Conops, again entered the boat, he lighted with the help of some of the citizens a large pile of wood on the edge of the flood, so that the vessels might be provided with torches whenever they brought anything they had rescued ashore. Then an agreement was made between the captains of the boats about sharing the work. Half a score of the craft were stationed in each street, five on a side. The rest were to help wherever assistance was most needed and, as ladders had been found necessary in many instances, most of the boats were provided with them.
When everything was arranged in this way, the work of rescue progressed more rapidly than Lycon had expected, and when at last no voice called for aid, the twenty boats had saved the owners of more than twenty houses, besides a large number of slaves.
Lycon, attended by Conops, now hurried back to Polycles’ house. The wine-dealer came to meet him with a troubled face and told him that Simonides was dangerously ill. The cold and fright he had endured had been too severe a trial for him.
As Lycon entered the wooden barn where Simonides and his daughter were lodged, his first glance sought the sick man. The latter’s eyes were open, but stared fixedly into vacancy, and his thin hands fumbled to and fro over the coverlids with a convulsive twitching. Lycon wished to approach, but Polycles held him back.