"My son!" again mourned Ben Ezra. "I care not to live! Let me perish with thee!"
Nevertheless, he had grasped the thong of twisted hide and the instinct of self-preservation was strong enough to make him cling to it. Moreover, he had taken three of the short oars, instead of only two, and on these he was buoying up what seemed a small casket of wood. He was doing so with difficulty, and now he exclaimed:
"The jewels! The gold! I must not lose them. They are priceless. The centurion knoweth not that I have them. Not only mine are here, but the prætor's also. O Jehovah of Hosts! Thou hast smitten the heathen! That spear fell short. Ha!"
A pilum struck the oars and Ben Ezra struggled hard for his treasure, but he succeeded in retaining it.
Down sank the two who had been stricken, and in a moment more a strong hand of a viking grasped the old man by the shoulder.
"This first!" said Ben Ezra, trying to hand him the casket. "It is worth their quinquereme! Ye are Northmen. I am a Jew of Salonica. The Roman robbers plundered my ship unlawfully, and me they meant to crucify, the better to claim my goods. Help me in. I am faint. O my son!"
They pulled him up over the bulwark with some difficulty, but he spoke not nor did he seem to see anything until he was sure that his casket was in the hands of Ulric the Jarl.
"Open it not now, O captain of the Saxons," said Ben Ezra. "I have much to say to thee. When yonder Roman keel goeth down I am no longer in peril, for I have kept the law. But the Prætor Sergius of Spain and the commanders of the fleet rob whomsoever they will. Praise God, she sinketh fast!"
It was even so. The quinquereme was settling in the water and her crew could cast spears no more. They did but stand still and gaze at the sea and at their strange enemy, but some of them even now called loudly upon their gods, as if there could be any help from them.
She was a splendid vessel, and her figurehead was a gilded Neptune with a trident which looked as if it might be of gold. Rich indeed were her carvings and the very handles of her oars were graven and gilded. She was high at prow and stern, a castle of the sea, and the wonder was that she had been cloven at a blow. A lighter vessel with a ram less sharp would perhaps have rebounded without doing serious harm, but the beak of _The Sword_ was like a vast spearhead and it had been driven hard by the strong arms of the Saxons and by the weight of the trireme.