The Junior Classics, Volume 3: Tales from Greece and Rome
General
The Junior Classics, Volume 3: Tales from Greece and Rome
Children's literature; Mythology, Classical -- Juvenile literature
There was a breathless pause, then a loud blast from a trumpet rang out
for the start, and the four galleys darted out with level prows for the
open sea, while a tremendous roar went up from the host of spectators who
thronged the cliffs. “She leads—the _Chimæra_ has the lead!” is the cry;
and, in fact, the _Chimæra_, under her captain, Gyas, is forging ahead.
She is a galley of the largest size, and built for speed. Next comes
the _Scylla_, with her crew rowing powerfully and splendidly together;
but she is broad in the beam, and a slow traveller. The third place
is keenly contested between the _Pristis_[1] and the _Centaur_, whose
figureheads may be seen alternately passing and repassing each other, and
then again racing neck and neck.
The rocky island draws nearer and nearer, and they can see the green
bough of ilex, placed there by order of Æneas, waving in the wind. The
_Chimæra_ is still leading, and Gyas, her captain, calls to his helmsman.
“Keep closer,” he orders; “you are steering too wide; let the oars graze
the rocks on the port side.” But the cautious old seaman shakes his head,
and steers in a wide curve, fearing the shoal water near the island.
Close behind looms the tall prow of the _Scylla_, and they can hear
the water hissing and foaming round her cutwater. “They are gaining!”
shouts Gyas; and even as he speaks the huge galley, steered by a bold
and skilful hand, takes the inside place, sweeps round the island, and
gaining deep water, rushes triumphantly forward, bound for the shore.
This was too much for the excitable Gyas; with tears of rage and grief
he sprang upon the helmsman, and, snatching the tiller from his hand,
with one vigorous thrust he flung the too cautious veteran into the
sea. Presently a gray head emerged from the water, and the old man was
seen swimming slowly towards the rocks, which he reached not without
difficulty, and sat down with dripping garments and rueful countenance,
gasping, and spitting out the brine. “Now give way, my men,” cried Gyas,
putting the helm hard down, as so to bring the galley round to the very
edge of the rocks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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