The fight centered on Protesilaos's ship. Hector held the stern and called without pause for fire. The Trojans climbed over bodies and beams; the Achaeans thrust them down. Spears splintered, shields cracked, and men fought so close that each could hear the other's groan through the helmet.
The Danaans remembered shame and home. Some called on parents, some on wives, some on the gods. The Trojans remembered Hector's promise and the hope of ending the war that day. No man on either side could look away from the ship, because there the whole labor of Troy and Achaea hung in the balance.
Aias, though forced back from the outer edge, did not leave the ship. He moved on the bench like a man fighting from a wall, thrusting down with the long spear. Any Trojan who came near with flame found him waiting, and the bronze point drove him away or laid him out before the stern.
Hector's voice never slackened. Bring fire, he shouted, and raise the cry together. Zeus had taken away the mind of the elders who once held him back from fighting at the sterns, but now the god himself urged him on. The Trojans answered with a greater rush.
So they fought, one side with fire in their hands, the other with last courage. Aias stood there expecting death, guarding the ships with the long spear. Before the prows he struck twelve Trojans at close quarters as they came on with burning brands, and the struggle for the first ship stayed unresolved in blood and smoke.