Those who saw Alkibiades when he came out upon the deck of his ship declared there was an awful look upon his face, such as they had never seen before. The younger men approached him. ‘Are you going to suffer this, general? Will you go back now, just as we are about to obtain the greatest conquest yet recorded? Let us send this process-server home again. And when we return victorious the people will forget our treatment of him. They will by that time, too, have found out the injustice of their suspicions, and perhaps have condemned those who have persuaded them falsely of your guilt.’ ‘What guilt?’ cried Alkibiades, excited by the word out of his wonted calm. ‘The Senate and the people, moved by the priests of Demeter and the rest of the Eumolpidai, have decreed your recall and the revocation of your appointment on the charge of having divulged and profaned the mysteries of Eleusis.’ ‘Ye gods,’ cried Alkibiades, ‘who know my innocence, Demeter and Persephone be my witnesses that I will be revenged on those who have done me this dishonour! And the people have decreed my revocation? The worse for those who have misled them!’ He spoke with a fierceness so different to his usual gentleness that his friends were terrified. Only Kolyphôn stood forth, known as the Silent One, and mildest of them all. ‘Oh, my strategos, speak but the word, and we will this moment publish through the fleet news of this dishonour done to us. The whole fleet is yours; ‘tis to you it owes its existence. This state trireme shall be sent back with a fitting message to your enemies, a word of courage to your friends. Say but the word, and we will put Nikias on board the _Salaminia_ with Kryptos, and send him home—the best place for such as he.’ ‘Peace!’ said Alkibiades. ‘We must obey the people. Go, you who have been invited on board the _Salaminia_. When you return, I will speak with you again.’ So he was left alone to ponder upon these things, a prisoner on board the ship he had furnished for the state. He knew that if the expedition was to succeed he must be there to lead it, and that it would break down if he went from it. He knew the timid, procrastinating character of Nikias—how he could never make up his mind on an emergency, and would allow any excuse to prevail rather than take action. He knew, too, how necessary immediate action was, before the Syrakusans recovered from their alarm and felt their own strength, or learnt the weakness of Nikias, or got help from Korinth or from Sparta. And now he was to go and leave all; and by the time he could come back to Sicily, absolved from this foul charge, as he then believed he assuredly must be, it would be too late. He thought of the quiet Kolyphôn’s advice to appeal to the whole force. That would be a bold stroke. It might succeed; but it was disloyal to those who had entrusted him with power, disloyal to his colleagues. Was it not treachery to Athens?