Bert Wilson, Marathon Winner Page 7

  CHAPTER VII

  THE FIRST MARATHON

  "By George!" exclaimed Dick, as he looked about him. "I wish we had amoving picture machine on board. This would make a dandy film."

  There was certainly motion enough to satisfy the most ardent advocate ofthe "strenuous life." The deck was humming with life at its fullest. Twohundred young athletes in their picturesque costumes were working awayas though their lives depended on it. Here a swimmer splashed in thetank and ran the gamut of all the strokes--the "side," the "sneak," the"crawl," the "trudgeon." From the fencers' quarters came the clashof steel on steel, as they thrust and parried, now retreating, nowadvancing, seeking to touch with the buttoned point the spot that markedtheir opponent's heart. The bark of the revolver and the more pronouncedcrack of the rifle bespoke the effort of the marksmen to round intoform. Drake at the stern was striving to outdo his rivals in casting thediscus far behind the ship. On the cork track the hundred-yard menwere flashing like meteors from end to end, while the milers andlong-distance men circled the ship at ten laps to the mile. The trainerssnapped the watches on the trial heats and strove to correct defects ofform or pace. Everywhere was speed and energy and abounding life. It wasa fine example of the spirit that has made America great--the carefulpreparation, the unwearied application, the deadly determination thatsimply refuses to lose when it has once entered upon a struggle. AndBert's heart bounded as he realized that he was one of this splendidband chosen to uphold the honor of the flag. The thought added wings tohis feet as he flew again and again around the track, and he might haveprolonged the trial far beyond the point of prudence had it not been forthe restraining hand of Reddy. That foxy individual never let hissporting blood--and he had aplenty--run away with his common sense. Heknew when to apply the brake as well as the spur, and on this first dayunder the novel conditions the brake was the more important. So, longbefore Bert would have stopped of his own accord and while he wasreeling off the miles with no sense of exhaustion, Reddy called a halt.

  "Enough is plenty," said he, in answer to Bert's protestations that hehad just begun to run. "Even if the ship is steady, we've got to takeaccount of the motion. You can't do on sea what you can on land. Ye'llget leg-sore if ye keep it up too long." So Bert, although full ofrunning, took his shower and called it a morning's work.

  A shorter run in the afternoon rounded out his first day's practice, andafter supper the boys sat around on deck, enjoying the cooling breeze.Professor Davis of their own college, who was one of the members of theOlympic Committee, had lighted his cigar and joined the group of Blues.Although a scholar of world-wide reputation, he was by no means of the"dry-as-dust" type. Alive to his finger tips, he was as much a boy asany of them. All ceremony had been put off with his scholastic cap andgown, and now, as he sat with them in easy good fellowship, he was forthe moment not their teacher but their comrade.

  "Yes," said the Professor, as he looked musingly over the rail, whilethe _Northland_ steadily ploughed her way through the waves; "whatWaterloo was to modern Europe, what Gettysburg is to the United States,Marathon was to Greece. Perhaps a more important battle was never foughtin the history of the world."

  A chance remark about the Marathon race had set the Professor going, andthe boys eagerly drew their chairs nearer. They were always keenlyinterested in anything that savored of a fight, and the "Prof." had astriking way of telling a story. He had the gift of making his hearerssee the thing that he described. As Tom put it, "he didn't givelectures, he drew pictures." It was a picture that he drew now, and, asthey listened, they were no longer young Americans of the twentiethcentury, but Greek youth of twenty-five hundred years earlier. Theymight have been shepherds or goatherds, tending their flocks on themountain slopes above the Bay of Marathon, looking open-eyed at thegreat Persian fleet of six hundred ships, as it slowly sailed into thebay and prepared to disembark the troops.

  The immediate object of the expedition was the capture and destructionof Athens, which had defied Darius, King of Persia, and added insult toinjury by invading his territory and burning the city of Sardis.

  To have his beard plucked in this insolent fashion was something new tothe haughty king. He was the autocrat of all Asia. Courtiers fawned uponhim; nations cringed before him. He styled himself "King of Kings andLord of Lords," and no one had the hardihood to dispute the title. Hewas the Caesar of the Asiatic world, and Persia occupied the sameposition as that afterward held by Rome in Europe. It was not to beborne that this little state of Athens should dare to flout hisauthority. When he heard of the burning of Sardis, his rage wasfrightful. He shot an arrow into the air as a symbol of the war heprepared to wage. He commanded that every day a slave waiting at tableshould remind him: "Sire, remember the Athenians." He sent heralds toall the Greek cities with terrible threats of reprisals, but they weresent back with mockery and ridicule. A mighty armament that he hadmarshaled was wrecked, but, nothing daunted, he organized another. Andit was this vast army that now threatened sack and destruction to thecities of Greece.

  It had already captured Eretria, and its surviving citizens were nowheld in chains, waiting for the Athenians to be joined with them andbrought into the presence of King Darius, who was already taxing hisingenuity to devise unheard of tortures for them. And now the galleyshad been beached on the shelving shores of the Bay of Marathon, on theedge of which the village stood in a plain that widened in the center,but drew together at the ends like the horns of a crescent. Here theyleisurely came on shore, elated at their first victory on Grecian soiland looking confidently for a second.

  Upon the outcome of that day hung the future of the world. If Persiawon, the last barrier would have been demolished that shut out Asiafrom Europe, and there would have been no serious check to prevent thebarbarian hordes from swarming over the entire continent. Greek art andculture and civilization would have been blotted out and the entirecourse of history would have been changed.

  It seemed the fight of a pigmy against a giant. The odds in favor of thePersians were tremendous. Hundreds of galleys had been required to carrytheir forces to the Grecian coast. One hundred thousand men, trained andveteran warriors, accustomed to victory, were drawn up in battle array.Against this mighty host the Greeks had about ten thousand men. They hadsent for help to Sparta, but, under the influence of a superstitiouscustom, the Spartans had refused to march until the moon was at thefull. Only a thousand men from Plataea came to the assistance of theoutnumbered Athenians.

  For several days the armies faced each other, the Persians drawn up onthe plain of Marathon and the Greeks encamped on a hillside a miledistant. There were ten commanders of the little force, and opinion wasdivided as to whether they should attack at once or wait for the help ofSparta. By a narrow margin the bolder policy prevailed, and it wasdecided to grapple with the enemy then and there.

  The Persians were astounded when they saw the devoted little armyrushing down the slope and making at double-quick across the plain,chanting their battle song. It seemed like madness or suicide. Halfcontemptuously, they formed ranks to receive them. The Greeks burst uponthem with irresistible fury. The very fierceness and audacity of theattack confused and demoralized their opponents. The center stood itsground, but the wings gave way. Soon the battle became a rout; the routa massacre. The Persians were beaten back to their galleys with terribleloss and hastily put out to sea. The Greeks lost only a hundred andninety-two men, and over the bodies of these was erected a huge funeralmound that remains to the present day, as a memorial of that wonderfulfight.

  The battle had been begun in the late afternoon and dusk had fallen whenthe slaughter ceased. After the first wild jubilation the thought of thevictors turned toward Athens, twenty-six miles away. The city waswaiting with bated breath for news of the struggle, watching, praying,fearing, scarcely daring to hope. News must be gotten to them at once.Pheidippides, a noted runner, started off on foot. The roads were roughand hilly, but he ran through the night as one inspired. To all he methe shouted the news a
nd kept on with unabated ardor. Hills rose andfell behind him. His breath came in gasps. On he went, the fire ofpatriotic passion burning in his veins. Now from the brow of a hill hesaw the lights of Athens.

  On, on he ran, but by this time his legs were wavering, his brain wasreeling. He had not spared himself and now he was nearly spent. Hegathered himself together for one last effort and staggered into themarket place where all the city had gathered. They rushed forward tomeet him. He gasped out: "Rejoice. We conquer," and fell dead at theirfeet. His glorious exploit with its tragical ending made him a nationalhero, and his name was held in reverence as long as the city endured.

  The speaker stopped, and for a few minutes no one spoke. The boys hadbeen too deeply stirred. Their thoughts were still with that lonelyrunner rushing through the night. It was a shock to come from beneaththe spell and get back to the present.

  "I suppose, Professor," said Tom, at last, "that you've seen the placewhere the battle was fought?"

  "Yes," was the reply, "I was there on the same trip when I visitedOlympia."

  "What," broke in Bert, "the identical place where the first Olympicgames were held nearly three thousand years ago?"

  "The identical spot," smiled the professor. "You can still see the wallsof the old Stadium where the games were held. Of course the greater partof it is in ruins after so long a time, but you can get a very good ideaof the whole thing. It's a beautiful spot and I don't wonder the oldGreeks went crazy over it."

  "Those fellows were 'fresh-air fiends,' all right," said Tom. "Youwouldn't think they had any homes. Everything you read about seems tohave happened in the streets or the market place or the gymnasium."

  "Yes," returned the professor, "the Greeks were a nation of festivals.They lived out of doors, and their glorious climate made possible allsorts of open-air gatherings and recreations. Their love of beauty, asshown especially in the human form, found expression in the sports andexercises that developed the body to the fullest extent. They did notneglect the soul--Plato and Socrates and hosts of others bear testimonyto that--but the body and its development were always uppermost in theirthoughts. They honored their thinkers, but they worshipped theirathletes. Physical exercises began almost in infancy and continued toextreme old age and the chief honors of the state were reserved forthose who excelled in some form of bodily strength. Poets sang aboutthem and statues were raised to them."

  "What games did they have?" asked Dick.

  "Very much the same as ours," was the answer. "There was a hippodromefor chariot racing, and if you boys remember the description in'Ben-Hur,' you can imagine how exciting it was. Then there were footraces, at first a single lap around the course, but afterward developinginto middle and long-distance running. Besides these were wrestling,leaping, discus-throwing, boxing and hurling the javelin."

  "There's one thing I like about them," said Bert. "They weren'tbloodthirsty, like the Romans."

  "No, we must give them credit for that. There were no better fighters inthe world. But the infliction of wanton cruelty, the shedding of bloodneedlessly, the gloating over human suffering, was wholly repulsive tothe Greeks. Perhaps they hated it, not because it was wicked, butbecause it was ugly. Rome wallowed in wounds and blood. It shouted withdelight as gladiators hewed and hacked each other and wild beasts torewomen and children to pieces. Its horrible thirst was never slaked andits appetite grew by what it fed upon. The Coliseum with its sickeningsights could never have existed in Greece. The Romans developed thebrute in man; the Greeks developed the god."

  "I suppose they had to train pretty hard for the games," mused Bert, ashe thought of the iron rule of Reddy.

  "They certainly did," laughed the professor. "You fellows think you haveto work hard, but they worked harder. Why, they had to train steadilyfor ten months before they entered for any event. Then, too, they had towalk pretty straight. Before the games, a herald challenged all whomight know of any wrong thing a competitor had done to stand forth anddeclare it openly. So that when a man came out winner, he had acertificate of character as well as skill."

  "No doubt the fellows that won were looked upon as the real thing,"suggested Dick.

  "I should say so," said the professor. "The value placed upon a victorywas almost incredible. To our cooler Western natures it seems excessive.The fellow citizens of the victor carried him home in triumph. Theysupported him for the rest of his life. He became the first citizen inthe state. The town walls were broken down so that he might enter by apath that had never before been trodden by human foot."

  "Well," remarked Dick, "I don't suppose Uncle Sam will go as crazy asall that when Bert comes home with the Marathon prize."

  "_If_ he comes home with it, you mean," corrected Bert. "'There's many aslip 'twixt cup and lip,' and I may be in for one of the slips."

  "Whether you are or not," rejoined the professor, as they rose toretire, "rests 'on the lap of the gods.' But what we do know is that,win or lose, you're going to do your best.

  "''Tis not in mortals to achieve success, They may do more--deserve it.'"