‘Ready, boarders!’ he shouted again.

The hoplites roared in response and Xanthippus found himself grinning, though there was a taste of metal in his mouth. He had a memory of his own shield knocked back against his face and paused to spit blood over the side. His teeth would be showing red, he realised. His crew had won a victory. Like a fire lit, they wanted more.

He looked left and right. Two Greek ships listed, the men within drowning as he watched. The sight was like a splash of cold water on his face. Yet on all sides, the Spartans had crashed through the enemy lines. He could see overturned Persian hulls, wider in the draught than the Greeks, as he judged it. Another Persian galley burned, giving off a great pillar of black smoke, while desperate figures leapt for the sea. Those crews weakened by the fighting would be picked off, one by one. Numbers would tell in the end.

One of the enemy captains had come in close to ram a damaged Greek trireme. His target looked adrift, the crew busy repairing damage. When that ship came back to life and turned sharply to face him, he tried to sheer off and go after a weaker target.

Xanthippus saw the move begin at the tiller, with the Persian officer jabbing orders and two men heaving at the great oars there.

‘He’s trying to turn!’ Xanthippus roared. ‘Give me ram speed, right now! Ram speed! Twenty beats!’

The keleustes echoed the answer and the ship sprang forward. The right banks of rowers were a touch stronger than the battered left, so that they drifted. Xanthippus did not call a correction as it helped them match the path of the fleeing Persian. He tried to continue the turn and head for safety, but there was neither room nor speed enough to save him.

The ram struck and holed the enemy ship, exactly as the Persian had intended to do to one of theirs. The hoplites cheered even as arrows rained down. Yet it was the sting of a dying wasp as water poured in below and terrified screams began to sound. Some of the Persian soldiers even tried to leap aboard the Greek ship rather than remain on a sinking vessel. They were cut down and the keleustes ordered all rowers to back oars and pull them clear. They heaved in a frenzy then. A sinking ship was a terrible danger, capable of taking them down with it.

They might have watched that galley sink, but the sea had filled with dozens of actions going on all around. Xanthippus swallowed blood in his mouth rather than spit once more and nodded. Themistocles and the second line had gone through. The third rank of Greek ships was approaching them, ready for battle. He raised an arm as they passed and the men cheered to see him.

A Persian ship steered closer, somehow unmarked and untouched. Xanthippus signalled the turn.

‘Mark that ship!’ he said, pointing. ‘She’s ours.’