Well, then, Ptolemy himself sailed to the attack with a hundred and fifty ships, and ordered Menelaüs to put out from Salamis with sixty ships, and when the struggle was fiercest, to assail the ships of Demetrius in the rear, and throw them into confusion. But to these sixty ships Demetrius opposed only ten ships (for that small number sufficed to block the narrow exit from the harbour), while he himself, after first drawing out his land forces and encompassing the headlands that extended into the sea, put out to battle with a hundred and eighty ships. He made his onset with great impetus and force, and utterly routed Ptolemy. Ptolemy himself, after his defeat, fled swiftly with eight ships only (for that small number were left from his whole fleet; of the rest, some had been destroyed in the sea-fight, and seventy had been captured, crews and all), but of the throng of attendants, friends, and women which lay in ships of burden close at hand, and further, of all Ptolemy’s arms, money, and engines of war, absolutely nothing escaped Demetrius, but he took everything and brought it safely into his camp. Among this booty was the celebrated Lamia, originally held in esteem for her artistic skill (she was thought to play the flute quite admirably), but afterwards becoming illustrious in the annals of love also. At this time, at any rate, although she was past her prime and found Demetrius much younger than herself, she so mastered and swayed him by her charms that he was a lover for her alone, but a beloved for all other women. After the sea-fight, Menelaüs also made no further resistance, but handed over Salamis to Demetrius, together with his fleet, and his land forces, which comprised twelve hundred horsemen and twelve thousand men-at-arms.