At all events, he died with his last work done, for the ram had gone right through our side. If it had not been for the ship’s great hempen girdle, bound round her stem to stern, I think she would have split in two. As it was, as soon as the Spartans had staved us off, the sea came pouring in.
I sent a last javelin after the Spartan ship, an act of rage as useless as a child’s crying; then I leaped down to get some order on deck. Lysis had gone below to deal with the rowers. I whistled up the soldiers and got them into a moving chain, baling. The seamen having the buckets, we had only our helmets to use. We slid and splashed about, while the seamen tried to fish up the ballast for throwing overboard. Our corselets hampered and chafed us; armour was not made for working; but a man who throws away his arms in battle throws away something more, as well as his reputation after. When I saw someone fidgeting with a buckle, I gave him a look that sent him back to work with a red face. It could not be long before the fleet turned back to help us; the Spartans were in flight all along the line; and no one was going to say if I could help it that the men of the Siren were picked up in the hour of victory looking like a rabble in rout. From below I heard Lysis’ voice encouraging the rowers. I could not see him (I was standing at the hatchway, passing the filled helmets up on deck) but the mere sound of him did me good.
When the crew could not get down to the ballast any more, they started throwing the stores over, and then the spare tackle. When I saw the shields going, I looked the other way. Two or three hurt rowers had been carried up on deck. One, who had been hit by the ram itself, was clearly dying. The others had been caught by the leaded looms of the upper-tier oars, which are counterweighted because of their length, and looked badly knocked about. I caught the eyes of one of them fixed upon me, black eyes with a clear white rim; he looked as if he hated me; but men understand each other at such times for better or worse, and I knew he hated anyone with two good arms, who could save himself in the sea.
Meantime the pilot and some of the hands had got the great sail lowered over-side, and were trapping it over the breach with hawsers run below the keel. It stanched the wound of the ram, and though it was clear she was making water all over her hull, the baling did begin to gain a little. I looked about, as a wave lifted us, in search of help, but all the ships I could see were in trouble themselves. One of them went down as I watched. She settled stern first, her ram rearing up like the horn of a unicorn; then she slid backward, and the water was full of little black heads. I shouted out some nonsense to the men to take their minds off it.
Lysis now came on deck, and split us into shifts, two on and one off, to give us some rest. The men were pleased; but he had gone up first to the deckhouse roof, and I guessed it meant no help in sight yet. The slaves were working along with the rowers. Their benches were under water, but none had been lost; Lysis never kept them shackled at sea. Presently my rest turn came, and I went over to him. “How goes it, Alexias?” he said, and then, “You handled the hoplites very well.” He was never too much pressed to think of such things.
“The trierarch went overboard,” I said, “for what it’s worth. Did you see any of our ships?” He did not answer at first; then he said, “Yes, I saw them. They were hull down, running before the wind.” I stared and said, “But the enemy will be out of Lesbos the moment he gets this news. Our work’s done; why don’t they come for us?”—“I daresay,” he said, “they want to cut up the Spartans getting away.” But there was a note in his voice which I had not heard since the day at Corinth, when he lay in the temple of Asklepios.
I felt a bitterness beyond speech; presently I said, “Alkibiades would have come back.” Lysis nodded. I said, “How many times have we gone to help the lame ducks, and lost a prize by it?” Just then we wallowed into a wave, and shipped enough water to undo a good spell of baling. He said, “The ship has been stripped; now it is time to lighten the men.” I knew what he meant.
He went over to the hoplites. “Well, friends, the enemy has run. No Spartan can boast of seeing us throw away our arms. What we would not give up to men, we can offer to Father Poseidon. Gentlemen, unarm.”
I worked away at the wet straps of my armour, trying to be quick with it. He had made me a soldier, and it was his due that I should do it before him. The corselet of Archagoras, with its gold studs and its Gorgon, came away from me. I walked over the wet deck, and dropped it in the sea.
Just then Theras the pilot came up and said, “You’re none too soon, Lysis.” I looked at the weather and saw he was right. “With your permission,” he said, “I’ll get the deckhouse broken up.” There was no need to say more; one does it at the end, to get spars for the swimmers. Lysis said, “Very well. Break up the boat too.” We carried a little one, for places where we could not beach, to get water and stores. Theras looked at him; he said, “How many will she take, in this sea?”—“Four,” said Theras. “Five maybe.”—“She’ll give planks for ten or twelve. Break her up.”
I went back to my baling again, and soon heard the crash of the axes. But presently there were other sounds. I told the men to get on without me, and ran on deck. Four of the seamen had turned their backs on the boat and their axes on their fellows. They meant to get away in her, and the riot was spreading. Already there were enough men fighting for the boat, to have swamped her if they had got in, just as Lysis had foreseen. Just then I saw him striding towards the scrimmage, unarmed.
All this was in a moment. But I remember thinking, “Has he still such faith in men?” Amidships, below the broken deckhouse, there were a few javelins left in the rack. I snatched one up. Lysis was speaking to the men, most of whom had lowered their axes and looked ashamed. But behind him, the man whose eyes I had read beforehand was swinging back an axe-blade over his bare head. I threw, calling on Apollo. The point went deep, just left of the backbone; the weight of the axe swung the man backward, to fall upon the shaft. I think it went through his heart. All the javelins were sharp on the Siren. It was one of the things I saw to myself.
When they were back at work again, Lysis came over to me. “You told me once,” he said, “that your life was mine. You have taken back your pledge again.” I smiled and said, “Not for long.” There was a great wave coming for us; when it broke I thought we should founder at once, but we limped on a little longer. I found Lysis’ hand in mine; he had caught it to keep me from being washed overboard. He said, “I wonder what Sokrates is talking about now.”
We looked at one another. After so much action we were short of words, and felt no need of them. I thought, “It is finished, then: as it is now, will the god receive it.”
Someone came running over the deck to us shouting, “Land!” We stared where he pointed, at a dim grey loom of little islands, beyond the tossing seas. Lysis said to me, “Where’s the water now?” I looked into the hatchway. “Over the second-tier benches.” He nodded, and blew his whistle to call all hands. He had just told them there was land in sight, and pointed it out to them, when the next sea hit us.
She gave a great sick stagger, heavy and dull; then she foundered, on an almost even keel, quite slowly. I think if Lysis had not shouted to me to jump, I should have stood there, to feel the deck under my feet, till the suck of her sinking pulled me after her.
I don’t recall very clearly the time while I was in the water. I remember I had a bit of planking at first, but it was too slight to bear my weight and kept dipping under. I let it go impatiently, then thought, “It was my life I threw away then; well, it is done.” I did not know east from west; the seas tossed and half choked me; I said to myself that it would be better to sink now and die quickly, but the life in me was stronger than reason and struggled on. All around me in the sea was shouting and crying; I heard someone calling again and again, “Tell Krates not to sell the land! Not to sell the land!” till his voice was cut off in the middle. My ears roared with water; when I came up there was still shouting, though less than before; something in my head said, “Listen, attend,” and again I thought, “How can I? I have enough to do.” Then I listened; and the voice of Lysis was shouting “Alexias! Alexias! Alexias!” I hailed him back and thought, “Well, we have spoken to one another.” Then I heard a swimmer gasping near by, and spitting out water, and Lysis was there with one of the stern-oars, pushing it towards me.