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 rock, and the goal was just in their grasp, when Gyas, the leader, the victor of the halfway-passage, calls aloud to his ship's pilot Menœtes:—"Whither away so far to my right? Steer us hither; hug the shore; let the oar-blade graze the cliffs on the left; leave the deep to others." Thus he;     5 but Menœtes, afraid of hidden rocks, keeps turning the prow well towards the sea. "Whither away from the right course? Make for the rocks, Menœtes!" shouted Gyas again; and see! looking back, he perceives Cloanthus gaining on him close behind. Between Gyas' ship and     10 the sounding rocks he threads his way to the left, steering inward, and in an instant passes the winner, leaves the goal behind, and gains the smooth open sea. Grief turned the youth's very marrow to flame, nor were his cheeks free from tears; he seizes the slow Menœtes, forgetting     15 at once his own decency and his crew's safety, and flings him headlong from the lofty stern into the sea. Himself becomes their guide at the helm, himself their pilot, cheering on the rowers, and turning the rudder to the shore. But Menœtes, when at last disgorged from the bottom of     20 the sea, heavy with age, and with his dripping clothes all hanging about him, climbs the cliff-top, and seats himself on a dry rock. The Teucrians laughed as he was falling, laughed as he was swimming, and now they laugh as he discharges from his chest the draught of brine. Then     25 sprung up an ecstatic hope in the two last, Sergestus and Mnestheus, of passing the lagging Gyas. Sergestus gets the choice of water and comes nearer the rock—not first, however, he by a whole vessel's length—half his ship is ahead, half is overlapped by the beak of his rival, the     30 Shark. Mnestheus walks through the ship among the crew and cheers them on. "Now, now, rise to your oars, old Hector's men, whom I chose to follow me at Troy's last gasp; now put out the strength, the spirit I saw you exert in the Gætulian Syrtes, the Ionian Sea, the entangling     35 waves of Malea. It is not the first place I look for. I am not the man; this is no struggle for victory—yet might it be!—but conquest is for them, Neptune, to