remain on the land and fight the principal battle there.
But Cleopatra would not consent to this. She
urged him to give Octavius battle at sea. The
motive which induced her to do this has been supposed
to be her wish to provide a more sure way of escape
in case of an unfavorable issue to the conflict.
She thought that in her galleys she could make sail
at once across the sea to Alexandria in case of defeat,
whereas she knew not what would become of her if beaten
at the head of an army on the land. The ablest
counselors and chief officers in the army urged Antony
very strongly not to trust himself to the sea.
To all their arguments and remonstrances, however,
Antony turned a deaf ear. Cleopatra must be allowed
to have her way. On the morning of the battle,
when the ships were drawn up in array, Cleopatra held
the command of a division of fifty or sixty Egyptian
vessels, which were all completely manned, and well
equipped with masts and sails. She took good care
to have every thing in perfect order for flight, in
case flight should prove to be necessary. With
these ships she took a station in reserve, and for
a time remained there a quiet witness of the battle.
The ships of Octavius advanced to the attack of those
of Antony, and the men fought from deck to deck with
spears, boarding-pikes, flaming darts, and every other
destructive missile which the military art had then
devised. Antony’s ships had to contend
against great disadvantages. They were not only
outnumbered by those of Octavius, but were far surpassed
by them in the efficiency with which they were manned
and armed. Still, it was a very obstinate conflict.
Cleopatra, however, did not wait to see how it was
to be finally decided. As Antony’s forces
did not immediately gain the victory, she soon began
to yield to her fears in respect to the result, and,
finally, fell into a panic and resolved to fly.
She ordered the oars to be manned and the sails to
be hoisted, and then forcing her way through a portion
of the fleet that was engaged in the contest, and
throwing the vessels into confusion as she passed,
she succeeded in getting to sea, and then pressed
on, under full sail, down the coast to the southward.
Antony, as soon as he perceived that she was going,
abandoning every other thought, and impelled by his
insane devotedness to her, hastily called up a galley
of five banks of oarsmen to pull with all their force
after Cleopatra’s flying squadron.
Cleopatra, looking back from the deck of her vessel,
saw this swift galley pressing on toward her.
She raised a signal at the stern of the vessel which
she was in, that Antony might know for which of the
fifty flying ships he was to steer. Guided by
the signal, Antony came up to the vessel, and the
sailors hoisted him up the side and helped him in.
Cleopatra had, however, disappeared. Overcome
with shame and confusion, she did not dare, it seems,
to meet the look of the wretched victim of her arts
whom she had now irretrievably ruined. Antony
did not seek her. He did not speak a word.
He went forward to the prow of the ship, and, throwing
himself down there alone, pressed his head between
his hands, and seemed stunned and stupefied, and utterly
overwhelmed with horror and despair.