Once more Ben-Hur looked around. Upon the roof of the cabin the battle yet beat; against the sides the hostile vessels yet crushed and grided. On the benches,the slaves struggled to tear loose from their chains,and, finding their efforts vain, howled like madmen;the guards had gone upstairs; discipline was out, panic in. No, the chief kept his chair, unchanged, calm as ever-except the gavel, weaponless. Vainly with his clangor he filled the lulls in the din. Ben-Hur gave him a last look, then broke away-not in flight, but to seek the tribune.