While the rowers were indulging in these reflections and expressing their views in whispers, the men off duty were posted ready for action on the forepart of the deck, with Cornelius Cinna himself at their head. He desired the Batavian to remain with the ship’s servants in the cabins till the moment of attack. Nerva--and this was unanimously agreed to by all the conspirators--in consideration of his advanced age--was entreated to remain in the hold of the vessel, till the battle was decided. But the old man stoutly refused; he still had vigor enough, he said, to wield a blade, and a man was never too old to die for freedom by the side of brave comrades. So Cocceius Nerva was told off to the division under Aurelius--only as a private soldier, for he positively refused to command. Cneius Afranius and the old, one-armed centurion took their places by Cinna, somewhat as his adjutants or lieutenants. All this time they had rowed steadily ahead. To the east, over Latium, it grew lighter every minute. The elaborate rigging of the imperial trireme was now distinctly visible, for its sails, like those of the Batavia, were close-reefed, the wind being contrary. The three ranks of oars on each side rose and fell like broad black wings. There was no longer any doubt. She was gaining on them. Her oarsmen outnumbered those of the Batavia, not by twenty only, but by thirty or more. Aurelius measured with his eye the fast diminishing distance between them, not without a feeling of apprehension. On board both vessels there was absolute silence; nothing broke the stillness of the dawn but the splash of the oars' blades in the water and the hammer-strokes of the time-keepers. Not another vessel was to be seen on the calm lead-colored waste. In all this vast and desert expanse the only living thing was that embodiment of stealthy and vindictive hatred!... It was a ghastly thought, and he shivered. Another quarter of an hour went by, and the most persistently hopeful could no longer dream of escape. Cornelius Cinna gave the word; the Batavia turned round and the oars ceased to lash the waves. The Charybdis immediately slackened her tremendous speed, evidently in order to put on a final spurt for a killing thrust She came nearer and nearer, till within about three hundred paces. Then the rowers suddenly fell to with all their force; the ship made a half-turn and rushed with furious might on the Batavia, which was lying still. But Chrysostomus, her steersman, was an experienced seaman. With five or six strokes she turned sharply round, and the Charybdis shot by, close to along-side but harmless.