Glaucon felt the weariness fly from him. He was refreshed as never by wine. Then through the void in place of the band of heroes slowly outspread the tracery of a vessel at anchor,—the outermost guardship of the fleet of the Hellenes. They were again amongst friends. The watcher on the trireme was keeping himself awake after the manner of sentries by [pg 299]singing. In the night-stillness the catch from Archilochus rang lustily.
“By my spear I have won my bread,
By spear won my clear, red wine,
On my spear I will lean and drink,—
Show me a merrier life than is mine!”
The trolling called Glaucon back to reality. Guided by Sicinnus, who knew the stations of the Greek fleet better than he, a second time they came beside the Spartan admiral. The lamps were still burning in the stern-cabin. Even before they were alongside, they caught the clamours of fierce debate.
“Still arguing?” quoth Sicinnus to the yawning marine officer who advanced to greet them as they reached the top of the ladder.
“Still arguing,” grunted the Spartan. “I think your master has dragged forth all his old arguments and invented a thousand new ones. He talks continuously, as if battling for time, though only Castor knows wherefore. There’s surely a majority against him.”
The emissary descended the companionway, Themistocles leaped up from his seat in the crowded council. A few whispers, the Asiatic returned to Glaucon on the deck. The two gazed down the companionway, observing everything. They had not long to wait.