the hearts of the enemy. His fleet consisted of seventy-three ships,
on board of which were five thousand heavy-armed troops, and three
thousand javelin men, archers, and slingers. The glittering arms of
the troops, the flaunting banners of the ships of war, and the music
of the flutes to which the rowers kept time with their oars, made a
gallant display, which delighted the Athenians as much as it depressed
the Syracusans. These latter, indeed, were struck with dismay, and
thought that their last victory had been won in vain, and that they
were labouring to no purpose against a foe whose ranks were
continually reinforced.

Nikias was not long allowed to feast his eyes on this welcome
spectacle undisturbed. Demosthenes, as soon as he landed, insisted on
the necessity of instantly attacking Syracuse, and putting an end to
the siege, either by capturing the place, or by returning at once to
Athens in case of failure. Against this Nikias, who was alarmed at the
idea of such vigorous action, urged that it would be unwise to run
such a risk. Delay, he argued, favoured the besiegers more than the
besieged, as their resources must soon fail, in which case their
allies would desert them and they would again be brought to the
necessity of capitulating. Nikias adopted this view because of what he
heard from his secret correspondents within the city, who urged him to
continue the siege, telling him that already the Syracusans began to
feel the war too great a burden for them to support, and that Gylippus
was very unpopular among them, so that in a short time they would
utterly refuse to hold out any longer, and would come to terms with
the Athenians. Nikias could only hint at these secret sources of
information, and so his counsels were thought by his colleagues to be
mere cowardice. They declared loudly that the original mistake was
about to be repeated, and the first terror-stricken impression of the