“What will you do?”
The admiral’s hold upon the younger Athenian’s arm tightened.
“I will prove that Aristeides is not the only man in Hellas who deserves the name of ‘Just.’ When I was young, my [pg 405]tutor would predict great things of me. ‘You will be nothing small, Themistocles, but great, whether for good or ill, I know not,—but great you will be.’ And I have always struggled upward. I have always prospered. I am the first man in Hellas. I have set my will against all the power of Persia. Zeus willing, I shall conquer. But the Olympians demand their price. For saving Hellas I must pay—Democrates. I loved him.”
The two men stood in silence long, whilst below the oars and the rushing water played their music. At last the admiral relaxed his hand on Glaucon.
“Eu! They will call me ‘Saviour of Hellas’ if all goes well. I shall be greater than Solon, or Lycurgus, or Periander, and in return I must do justice to a friend. Fair recompense!”
The laugh of the son of Neocles was harsher than a cry. The other answered nothing. Themistocles set his foot on the ladder.
“I must return to the men. I would go to an oar, only they will not let me.”
The admiral left Glaucon for a moment alone. All around him was the night,—the stars, the black æther, the blacker sea,—but he was not lonely. He felt as when in the foot-race he turned for the last burst toward the goal. One more struggle, one supreme summons of strength and will, and after that the triumph and the rest.—Hellas, Athens, Hermione, he was speeding back to all. Once again all the things past floated out of the dream-world and before him,—the wreck, the lotus-eating at Sardis, Thermopylæ, Salamis, the agony on the Bozra. Now came the end, the end promised in the moment of vision whilst he pulled the boat at Salamis. What was it? He tried not to ask. Enough it was to be the end. He, like Themistocles, had supreme con[pg 406]fidence that the treason would be thwarted. The gods were cruel, but not so cruel that after so many deliverances they would crush him at the last. “The miracles of Zeus are never wrought in vain.” Had not Zeus wrought miracles for him once and twice? The proverb was great comfort.
Suddenly whilst he built his palace of phantasy, a cry from the foreship dissolved it.
“Attica, Attica, hail, all hail!”