shuddered through all her timbers, then gallantly stood up again
over the striving sea, with bowsprit entire. But where were the
crew? It was a crew no longer, but rather a gathering of Greek
citizens; the shout of the seamen was changed for the murmuring of
the people--the spirit of the old Demos was alive. The men came
aft in a body, and loudly asked that the vessel should be put
about, and that the storm be no longer tempted. Now, then, for
speeches. The captain, his eyes flashing fire, his frame all
quivering with emotion--wielding his every limb, like another and a
louder voice, pours forth the eloquent torrent of his threats and
his reasons, his commands and his prayers; he promises, he vows, he
swears that there is safety in holding on--safety, IF GREEKS WILL
BE BRAVE! The men hear and are moved; but the gale rouses itself
once more, and again the raging sea comes trampling over the
timbers that are the life of all. The fierce Hydriot advances one
step nearer to the captain, and the angry growl of the people goes
floating down the wind, but they listen; they waver once more, and
once more resolve, then waver again, thus doubtfully hanging
between the terrors of the storm and the persuasion of glorious
speech, as though it were the Athenian that talked, and Philip of
Macedon that thundered on the weather-bow.

Brave thoughts winged on Grecian words gained their natural mastery
over terror; the brigantine held on her course, and reached smooth
water at last. I landed at Limasol, the westernmost port of
Cyprus, leaving the vessel to sail for Larnaka, where she was to
remain for some days.