It was about three o'clock in the afternoon. Since early morning the two fleets had been engaged in a fierce battle. As the bronze trumpets shook the roadstead, the galleys, like huge monsters, were rushing at each other. Missiles, arrows, balls of burning resin, whistled through the air. The steel prows of Octavius's fleet grazed the Egyptian mastodons. From their high towers these hurled showers of iron, which struck the enemy squarely. Both sides fought with equal ferocity and their blows were deadly. Limbs were scattered and heads fell, leaving only bloody masks in sight. No one could have predicted whose powerful machines would win, as they ruffled the surface of the water, a busy swarm that attacked, tormented, recoiled, and returned to the charge. There was a sudden movement, an abrupt lunge, and the _Antoniad_, pushing her way through the surrounding ships, made for the open sea at full speed, followed by the royal squadron. What incomprehensible motive had made the Queen act in this way? Why, with nothing as yet lost, or even compromised, had she given up the battle? Many have alleged that it was a deliberate plot with Antony. But why should they declare themselves defeated when they were not? No, Antony had no part in this premeditated flight. At first he was surprised, confounded. It could not be treason on Cleopatra's part! If from a variety of motives she did not want Antony to have the final victory, if she acted in a way to make it impossible, she surely did not wish Octavius to conquer? The avenger of Octavia, the representative of the Roman people from whom she had everything to fear? In the face of such astonishing contradictions the only answer is that human actions are not always logical, especially those of women! From early morning Cleopatra had been watching the terrible battle. The unspeakable horrors had been too much for her overstrained nerves. For a moment the wing which protected her shifted. The danger of being surrounded, imprisoned, separated from Antony, threatened her. She was frightened. The assailants were very near, and her courage suddenly gave way. Standing on the bridge, like a frightened bird, she took her bearings. The wind blew from the north. It was favourable, and she took flight. Did she think of Antony and realize that in flying she condemned him? No, she remembered his promise to follow her, and her heart was comforted.