But Mnestheus and Sergestus, coming last, have joyful hope enkindled in each heart to pass the laggard Gyas. In the lead Sergestus' ship shoots forth; and to the rock runs boldly nigh; but not his whole long keel may pass his rival; the projecting beak is followed fast by Pristis' emulous prow. Then, striding straight amidships through his crew, thus Mnestheus urged them on: “O Hector's friends! Whom in the dying hours of Troy I chose for followers! Now stand ye to your best! Put forth the thews of valor that ye showed in the Gaetulian Syrtes, or that sea Ionian, or where the waves race by the Malean promontory! Mnestheus now hopes not to be the first, nor do I strive for victory. O Father Neptune, give that garland where thou wilt! But O, the shame if we are last! Endure it not, my men! The infamy refuse!” So, bending low, they enter the home-stretch. Beneath their stroke the brass-decked galley throbs, and under her the sea-floor drops away. On, on they fly! Parched are the panting lips, and sweat in streams pours down their giant sides; but lucky chance brought the proud heroes what their honor craved. For while Sergestus furiously drove his ship's beak toward the rock, and kept inside the scanty passage, by his evil star he grounded on the jutting reef; the cliffs rang with the blow, and his entangled oars grated along the jagged granite, while the prow hung wrecked and helpless. With loud cry upsprang the sailors, while the ship stood still, and pushed off with long poles and pointed iron, or snatched the smashed oars from the whirling tide. Mnestheus exults; and, roused to keener strife by happy fortune, with a quicker stroke of each bright rank of oars, and with the breeze his prayer implored, skims o'er the obedient wave and sweeps the level main. Not otherwise a startled dove, emerging o'er the fields from secret cavern in the crannied hill where her safe house and pretty nestlings lie, soars from her nest, with whirring wings—but soon through the still sky she takes her path of air on pinions motionless. So Pristis sped with Mnestheus, cleaving her last stretch of sea, by her own impulse wafted. She outstripped Sergestus first; for he upon the reef fought with the breakers, desperately shouting for help, for help in vain, with broken oars contriving to move on. Then Mnestheus ran past Gyas, in Chimaera's ponderous hulk, of pilot now bereft;