“Glaucon does no such folly,” spoke Democrates, instantly, from the bow; “if the harbour-watch doesn’t interfere with honest traders, what’s it to us?”
“As you like it.” Themistocles resumed his seat. “Yet it would do no harm. Now they row to another trireme. With what falcon eyes the master of the trio examines it! Something uncanny, I repeat.”
“To examine everything strange,” proclaimed Democrates, sententiously, “needs the life of a crow, who, they say, lives a thousand years, but I don’t see any black wings budding on Themistocles’s shoulders. Pull onward, Glaucon.”
“Whither?” demanded the rower.
“To Salamis,” ordered Themistocles. “Let us see the battle-place foretold by the oracle.”
“To Salamis or clear to Crete,” rejoined Glaucon, setting his strength upon the oars and making the skiff bound, “if we can find water deep enough to drown those gloomy looks that have sat on Democrates’s brows of late.”
“Not gloomy but serious,” said the young orator, with an attempt at lightness; “I have been preparing my oration against the contractor I’ve indicted for embezzling the public naval stores.”
“Destroy the man!” cried the rower.
“And yet I really pity him; he was under great temptation.”
“No excuses; the man who robs the city in days like these is worse than he who betrays fortresses in most wars.”