Domitia. Baring-Gould Sabine

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      Lucius Lamia started, and looked at the girl.

      She laid her hand on his arm, and gripped it as with an iron vice.

      “Run her down, Lucius! Sink the accursed murderer and mountebank in the depths of the Ionian sea.”

      Lamia gasped for breath.

      She looked up into his face.

      “Can it be done?”

      “By Hercules! we could rip up her side.”

      “Then do so.”

      He stood undecided.

      “Hearken to me. None will suspect our intention as we swiftly shoot up – no, none in this vessel, only Eboracus must be in it. Suddenly we will round and ram and welt her; and send the new Orion with his fiddle to the fishes. By the Furies! We shall hear him scream. We shall see him beat the waves. Lucius, let me have a marline-spike to dash at him as he swims and split his skull and let out his brains for the fishes to banquet on them.”

      “We risk all our lives.”

      “What care I? My father, your friend, will be avenged.”

      Still Lamia stood in unresolve.

      “Lucius! I will twine my white arms about your neck, and will kiss you with my red lips, the moment his last scream has rung in my ears.”

      “In the name of Vengeance – then,” said Lamia.

      “Eboracus I can count on,” said Domitia.

      “There is the under-mate. If any one on board suspect our purpose, we are undone.”

      “None need suspect,” said the girl. “Say that the prince is holding festival on board the trireme, and that it behoves us to salute. None will think other than that we are befooling ourselves like the rest. At the right moment, before any has a thought of thy purpose, call for the double-stroke, and trust Eboracus – he will put the helm about, and in a moment we run her down.”

      Lamia walked to the quarter-deck, bade the mourning women go below. He extinguished the funeral torches, and threw the ashes from the tripod into the sea. Then the Artemis was no longer distinguishable by any light she bore.

      Next Lamia walked aft, and in a restrained voice said:

      “The vessel of Cæsar is before us. We dare not pass without leave asked and granted.”

      “All right, sir,” said the second mate. “Any orders below?”

      “Keep on at present speed. When I call Slack, then let them slacken. When I call Double, then at once with full force double.”

      “Right, sir. I will carry down instructions.”

      The mate went to the ladder and descended into the hold.

      There were now left on deck only Lamia, Domitia, the steersman, Eboracus, one sailor and the physician, who was leaning over the bulwarks looking north at the glittering constellation of Cassiopea’s Chair.

      He was near the quarter-deck, in the fore part of the vessel, and had been unobserved in the darkness by Lamia and Domitia, till they returned aft.

      Then the young man started as he observed him.

      Was it possible that the man had overheard the words spoken? There was nothing in the attitude or manner of the physician to show that he entertained alarm. Lamia resolved on keeping an eye upon him that he did not communicate with the crew.

      Luke returned aft when the young people came in that direction, and seated himself quietly on a bench.

      Eboracus was rapidly communicated with and gained.

      The Artemis flew forward, noiselessly, save for the plunge of the oars and the hiss of the foam, as it rushed by like milk, and from the hold sounded the muffled note of the symphonicius or piper.

      Every moment the vessel neared the imperial galley, and sounds of revelry became audible. Nothing showed that any on board were aware of the approach of a Liburnian.

      It was now seen that tables were spread on the deck of the Imperial vessel, and that the prince and his attendants, and indeed the entire crew were engaged in revelry.

      Between the courses which were served, Nero ascended the quarter-deck, and sang or else delivered a recitation from a Greek tragedian, or a piece of his own composition.

      If the approach of the bireme was observed, which did not seem to be the case, it caused no uneasiness. The Emperor’s vessel had been accompanied by a convoy, but the ships had been dispersed by the storm; and the bireme, if perceived, was doubtless held to be one of the fleet.

      And now Helios, the confidant of Nero, had ascended the quarter-deck to his master, and began to declaim the speech of the attendant in the Electra descriptive of the conquests of Orestes – applying the words, by significant indications to the prince returning a victor from the Grecian games.

      “He, having come to the glorious pageantry of the sports in Greece, entered the lists to win the Delphic prizes, he, the admired of every eye. And having started from his goal in wondrous whirls he sped along the course, and bore away the of all coveted prize of victory. But that I may tell thee in few words amidst superfluity I have never known such a man of might and deeds as he – ” and he bowed and waved his hands towards Nero.

      A roar of applause broke out, interrupted by a cry from Nero who suddenly beheld a dark ship plunge out of the night and come within the radiance of the lights on board his vessel.

      Meanwhile, on the Artemis, with set face sat Eboracus, guiding the head of the Liburnian as directed. He could see the twinkling lights, and hear the sounds of rejoicing.

      “Slack speed,” called Lamia.

      “Slack your oars,” down into the hold.

      There was a pause – all oars held poised for a moment.

      “Double!” shouted Lamia.

      “Double your oars!” down the ladder.

      Instantly the water hissed about the bows, and the oars plunged.

      Eboracus by a violent movement threw himself and his entire weight on the handle of one paddle, so as to turn the bireme about, and ram her midships into the Imperial trireme, when suddenly, without a word, Luke had drawn a knife through the thong that restrained the paddle, and instantly the pedalion leaped out of place, and would have gone overboard, had not the physician caught and retained it.

      Immediately the direction of the Artemis was altered and in place of running into the trireme, she swerved and swung past the Imperial galley without touching her.

      Nero, white with alarm and rage shrieked from the quarter-deck,

      “Who commands?”

      Then to those by him, “Pour oil on the flames.”

      At once from the braziers, tongues of brilliant light leaped high into the air.

      “The СКАЧАТЬ