The course lies out in the bay, and the competing vessels are to round a rock, covered at high tides, on which an oak has been set up, leaves and all, to serve as a mark for the steersmen. They take up their positions by lot, and await the signal, to be given by sound of trumpet. The picture of the start would suit, with wonderfully little alteration, the description of a modern University boat-race:-- “And now on rowing-bench they sit, Bend to the oar their arms close knit, And straining watch the sign to start, While generous trembling fills each heart, And thirst for victory. Then, at the trumpet’s piercing sound, All from their stations onward bound: Upsoars to heaven the oarsmen’s shout, The upturned billows froth and spout. * * * * * With plaudits loud and clamorous zeal Echoes the woodland round; The pent shores roll the thunder-peal, The stricken hills resound.” [Our modern oarsmen would certainly be wiser in this, that they would reserve their own breath (of which they would find considerable need towards the end of the race), and leave the whole of the shouting to be done by enthusiastic spectators.] “First Gyas issues from the rout, And holds the foremost place: Cloanthus next; his oarsmen row More featly, but his bark is slow, And checks him in the race. Behind at equal distance strain Centaur and Shark the lead to gain; And now the Shark darts forth, and now The Centaur has advanced her bow; And now the twain move side by side, Their long keels trailing through the tide.” So goes the race, until the galleys near the rock which they have to round. Gyas sees that his steersman, from over caution, is giving it too wide a berth, and that there is danger of the Scylla, more venturous, cutting in between. He shouts an order to keep closer in; but the old seaman is somewhat obstinate, and it is very soon too late. Cloanthus has seen his advantage, shot round the rock at very close quarters, and now leaves Gyas in the Chimæra behind. Burning with fury, Gyas turns on his steersman, and pitches him into the sea. Happily he can swim, and the rock is close at hand; he climbs upon it, and sits there dripping, to the considerable amusement of the spectators, who, like all lookers-on, seem unmercifully alive to the ludicrous element in any disaster.