The Galley

by Paul Howard

  “Turn her to starboard, due west!” I commanded. The Nubian came to my side, very concerned.

  “Why the sudden change?” he asked.

  “We have got to get as far away from our original course as soon as we can!” I replied. I ordered sail for close-hauling. We needed to make time. We were in no shape to take on another attack.

  Somebody not only knew what we were carrying, they had also managed to arrange the attack that had led us our present situation. Who could it have been? Severus? The Captain or the Centurion? Somebody we knew nothing of? “It did not matter,” I thought, “The important thing is that somebody knows there is a fortune in gold aboard a single warship in these waters and there is no such thing as a secret in the Roman World!”

  As noon approached I went to my cabin to prepare for the midday reading. The Nubian followed me inside. He wanted to know why I had ordered the sudden change in course. I explained my conclusions to him. He did not say much but I could see that he saw the wisdom in my decision. We went on deck together to take the readings and said nothing else to each other. Until we knew more there was nothing to be said, anyway.

  After the readings, the meeting was called. Those who were below were to be given the word to come up. The Greek, noticing the absence of the Chinese, went below to fetch him.

  He found him in the kitchen with mortar and pestle blending a strange concoction. “There is a meeting forward,” he said, noticing the mixture, he was intrigued.

  “What are you making there?” The Chinese continued what he was doing and answered without turning around.

  “I am making black powder,” he said. “It is one part sulfur, one and one half parts charcoal, and seven parts saltpeter. We make this in my home.” The Greek frowned at this, unable to figure out what it was for.

  “You are not going to eat that?” he protested. The Chinese turned around and looked at him amused.

  “This,” he said, “Is not for eating! In our present situation, it could prove very useful.” The Greek took a pinch between his fingers and studied it.

  “What is it for?” he asked. The Chinese took a small portion and placed it in a bowl. Covering the rest, he moved to the other side of the room.

  “Get some fire,” he said, “I will show what it is for!”

  Perched atop the forecastle, I surveyed the men before me.

  “The time has come,” I began, “For us to consider our course of action. Since this concerns us all, I want to know your intentions. As of noon we are moving west toward the coast of Greece. Our position places us just south of the Gulf of Torone. We can make a course south, avoiding the islands and Euboea. This a commonly traveled route for Greek trading ships. But of little strategic use by the Roman Navy, which I think we should avoid.”

  Number 44 spoke first.

  “Why are we hugging the Greek coast?” he asked. “Is that not dangerous?”

  “Not as dangerous as hugging the eastern side,” I said, “There are sure to be more pirates over there. The ships that attacked us were Phrygian rigged but the design was Anatolian. I do not know why they attacked us but I do not want to risk exposing this ship to any more like we had yesterday. We were very lucky to come out of it as we did.

  “My idea is to work our way out to the trade routes in the Mediterranean. From there, we can go anywhere.” Number 36 spoke next,

  “Why do not we make for Greece?” he asked. “They have no love for the Romans.”

  “Whether they love the Romans or not,” 53 replied, “There are extensive Roman operations throughout the peninsula. There are sure to be spies there, and Greece is heavily garrisoned.” I nodded my agreement with this answer. He was right.

  “Everything along the northern coast of the Mediterranean is under Roman control. So is the East. However, the northern coast of Africa is a different story. Although Rome controls most of it, there are large areas where the Empire is spread thin or not there at all. Numidia and Mauritania have long, open coastlines. Mauritania is very sparsely covered.” 36 broke in again.

  “What the hell is in Mauritania?” he protested.

  “Freedom!” I said.

  “To do what?” he snapped back.

  “There is nothing there! Nothing but sand and wild men! Why do we not make for Seleucia?”

  “You mean take this ship right under the noses of the people who attacked us?” I asked. There was a general murmur among the men. They did not like this idea any more than I did. The voice of the Briton rang out loudly over the assembly.

  “We must make for land,” he shouted, “As fast as we can!” All turned toward him, he approached us from the entry to the holds, a bucket of water in his hand.

  “You had better taste this!” he said.

  Puzzled by his dramatic entry, I scooped up a handful of the water and placed it to my lips. It was sea water! I spat it out and looked at him, curiously. “It is gone, all of it,” he said softly, “All the casks have been tainted, just like this.”

  This caused a general row of concern among the men. I ordered them to be quiet so I could hear what he had to say.

  “Our casks have nothing but sea water?” I asked, in shock.

  “They do now,” he said, “I checked them myself, before bed. Somebody did this overnight. We have been sabotaged!”

  This caused alarm throughout the men, as a noticeable shudder of fear gripped the assembly. I was still having a hard time grasping this information, hoping it might not be true, like something you just cannot accept. “We have no fresh water left aboard?” I asked.

  “None,” he snapped back. “Somebody here is not what he seems!”

  This statement struck all of us like a thunderbolt. The atmosphere turned ugly in an instant. The men began to eye each other suspiciously. Others were frightened. So was I, but I tried to conceal it. 36 Secundus stepped forward again and cast an unpleasant eye upon the Lady, who stood only a few feet away from me.

  “Where was she?” he demanded. Her ivory complexion turned white as a ghost. The Nubian stepped in front of her.

  “She was with me,” he said, “We were on deck, talking.”

  “Did she spend the night with you?” Number 36 snarled, sarcastically. “Can you account for her movements all night long? Or for the other one?”

  There was grumble among the men, who turned their smoldering anger upon her. She spoke with great effort. “It was not my servant or I,” she protested, “I have no wish to die!” The men quieted somewhat. She spoke more clearly now, “When you took this ship,” she continued, “I was frightened, but I was glad. I do not want to go to Anatolia, neither does Sarah. We were not passengers at all! We were prisoners, as you were. Forced to make a journey I did not want, because I had no choice!”

  Her face grew very grim and serious.

  “I want to go with you. Our lot is your lot!”

  The men did not exactly buy this. The Nubian raised his hands to get a word in.

  “She told me this herself last night,” he shouted, “She wants to join us, so does her servant.” The men quieted down, at least, for the moment. The Nubian looked at me nervously, I knew he was lying, but I said nothing. I spoke calmly to the men, we were on the spot, and we knew it.

  “We have plenty of fresh fruit aboard,” I said calmly, “We also have wine and other juices. Enough to get us to land. None of us will thirst! What little water we may find will be kept for the wounded. We are no more than two days from land!

  “We will make for the Greek islands. There is a relatively deserted shoal not far from here that is surrounded by high cliffs on three sides. We will make it by the day after tomorrow if this wind holds.” I turned back to the Briton. “In the meantime,” I continued, “The guards on the cargo holds need to be doubled. From now on, we move about the ship in our rowing pairs. As long as we keep our rowing partner in sight, both are safe.”

  I looked at them with all the emphasis I could muster. “We will be alright,” I said, “Resume your pl
aces, we make for the islands!” The men did not move at once, the thought came to me that we could lose all control.

  Number 53 snapped at the men confidently, “You heard the Captain! Get moving!” The men grumbled, but they did as they were told. Antonia had taken on another passenger: suspicion.

  I told the Lady to get into the forecastle and bolt the door behind her. I directed my lieutenants to follow me to my cabin. Just then, the Greek and the Chinese emerged from below with grins on their faces. They seemed completely impervious to what had just taken place. The Greek came to me and took my arm.

  “Just a moment, sir,” he said, “We have something to show you…” I looked at him like he had two heads.

  “We are kind of busy right now.” I replied. He raised an empty bucket and showed it to me.

  “You are not too busy to see this!”

  I did not know if I could stand any more surprises, but I nodded my head. The Chinese was holding a lit torch in his hand. The Greek looked about and took the bucket to an open area of the deck. He reached into his tunic and produced a small sack of a black powder. He poured a small mound of it on the deck and made a narrow trail coming way from it for several yards. He then placed the bucket, upside-down, over the mound. He stepped toward me and nodded at the Chinese.

  “Watch this!” he said.

  The other men had noticed this show with some curiosity and many came forward to see for themselves. The Chinese stepped to the trail and raised the torch. “Everybody get back!” he ordered. The Greek took my arm and pulled me back farther away. The Chinese lowered the torch, turning his face away from the bucket, and touched the trail of powder with the flame. He jumped back suddenly, as the black line erupted into bright, hissing sparks.

  In an instant, the sparks moved to the bucket and there was a very loud, percussive explosion, which flung the bucket many feet up into the air. My ears suddenly rang and all sound around me grew dull. I watched the projectile as it went up as high as the mainmast was tall. When I had almost lost it in the sun it fell back toward the ship. We were all stunned by what we saw, many men were frightened. Calpurnia opened the door to the forecastle to see what it was, just as the bucket crashed back onto the deck.

  The Nubian was so surprised; he dropped to his knees and covered his head when the blast went off. He got up and slowly approached the bucket. When he tried to pick it up, he dropped it quickly. It was so hot that it burned his fingers. The shape of it had changed, with its sides blasted out. I looked at the Greek and the Chinese, who stared at me with big grins on their faces. I had never seen anything like it and I was so shocked I did not speak.

  “It is called black powder,” the Chinese said, “We make it in China.” The Greek looked at me, the sparkle had returned to his eyes at last.

  “Something new has been added to our arsenal!” he joked.

  “That is not all that is new,” I replied gravely. “You two come with us.”

  The mood in the cabin was quite somber as we recounted the situation to 17 and 93. It was risky even to have such a meeting out of the sight of our comrades, as men onboard ship fester in adversity. I could only imagine the wagging tongues outside and what they were saying.

  “What do we do?” the Briton asked at last.

  “We make for the shoals.” I answered.

  The Nubian looked over the chart on the table where we were seated. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and shook his head. “Are you quite sure we can make them in just two days?” he asked.

  “If the wind holds,” I replied, “And we can keep the men from mutiny. We could make it in two days.”

  The Briton stood up and paced as he spoke. “Could make it,” he exclaimed, “Have you looked to the west? There is cold weather coming on. The wind could change on us. How long do you think the men will hold up without water?”

  “The water is not what worries me,” the Nubian added, “You saw the look in their faces. They are afraid we have a traitor among us.” The Chinese leaned forward and considered this issue.

  “It does not make sense,” he said, “Why would one of us ruin the water? What could he gain? It is impossible for one of us to have sent word to the pirates. Only those of us on the shore party knew about the gold. I did not tell anybody!”

  “Neither did I,” the Greek added. “You do not think it could have been the Gaul?”

  I frowned at this notion, none of us believed that. “So he could get himself disemboweled?” I replied. “No. That does not fit at all!” I looked at the Nubian sternly, unable to guess what his reaction would be to my suspicions. “There is only one person aboard who could have told anyone about our mission.” I said, “The Lady was ashore in Rhodes.”

  The Briton turned and leaned on the table. He quickly added, “She might have known about our orders and the gold! Maybe she told the pirates about it before she even came aboard!” I looked around at the faces before me. All except the Nubian seemed ready to entertain this idea. He looked down at the table and said nothing.

  I placed my hand upon his arm, gently, “You saw her up on deck yourself,” I said, “You cannot be sure what she was doing out there.” He looked up at me, a sullen expression his face.

  “I do not believe it,” he said, “I lied when I said she told me she wanted to join us. That is true, but I do not think she is against us.” The Briton did not accept his answer.

  “You do not believe it?” he said with an incredulous voice. Then he softened. “I know the thought of harming her is distasteful to you. I share your sentiment. But you cannot deny the evidence! She is suspect.”

  “Suspect her, then,” the Nubian answered. “But I do not believe it. The Lady is very clever, but she is not devious. She was only a passenger. I do not think she knows about the gold.” He looked at the sword on the Briton’s belt and thought for a moment. Fearing for her safety, he finally said, “If she is the one, I will not oppose whatever action we will have to take! But we must wait!”

  He looked around at each of us. “There is no question,” he said, “That somebody tainted the water. Whoever it is means to stop our escape. When he knows that we are making for land and nothing will stop us, he will try again! I suggest we confine the women to quarters until he does. That will not only remove them from suspicion, it will also give us a chance to catch him!”

  This plan appeared sound to the Briton, as well as the rest of us. We agreed the women should be confined and the forecastle watched. There was nothing for us to do but follow the plan. As it was important that we keep our time away from the men to a minimum, I closed the meeting. As the others left, the Nubian stayed behind.

  “Are you going to tell her?” he asked.

  “I thought you might do it.” I replied. He grinned and shook his head.

  “No,” he answered, “It would be better if it came from you.”

  “Why?” I asked him.

  “You may know a lot about men, Little Roman,” he joked. “Maybe it is time you learned about women!”

  With that he left me. I was not enthusiastic about telling her she was trapped in the forecastle. Nevertheless, it had to be done. So I went to speak to her. The one thing that became obvious to me in the course of our conversation was the Nubian’s comment about her intelligence. She was well ahead of me and nothing I said surprised her. She did not require an explanation as to why she had to remain inside, although her disappointment was quite clear. She gave me every indication that she understood the reasons, without comment. She was actually very nice about it and behaved as if she was genuinely pleased to see me.

  Although I did not expect to enjoy my visit with her, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself wanting to remain and talk with her for a time. Her conversation was quite stimulating and she seemed to know a lot about a wide variety of subjects. Her opinions were interesting and very advanced. She offered me wine, and we talked about a whole range of topics. She asked me about my past, seeming quite interested in what I had done before my ensl
avement.

  In spite of my suspicions, she made no effort to extract information from me about the immediate situation, or get me to release her from her captivity. We just talked. I enjoyed it so much that I lost track of time and before long, evening set in. Finally realizing this, I excused myself and left the forecastle. The ship was quiet when I came out, with the Briton at the watch.

  His weather warning proved to be prophetic. Already, the wind was turning against us. We would have to tack to make for the Greek islands, slowing our progress considerably. I could only hope that the wind would not worsen and slow us up even more. We were on short time without water.

  The following midday we had managed to maintain our course, but at a slower speed. That was when the fight broke out in the aft section. It involved Number 56, a Roman with bright, red hair, and Number 115. I do not know what it was about, nor did I see the beginning of it. I heard angry shouting and scuffling behind me. When I turned to see what it was 115, the larger of the two, had picked up a gaff and brandished it like a weapon. “I will cut your guts out!” he shouted.

  He took one swipe at 56, which missed him. As he was drawing it up to strike downward, the Briton came from nowhere and ordered him to put it down. 115 turned on the Briton and told him to stay out of it.

  “Put it down, I said!” the Briton shouted.

  115 ignored him and was about to strike the Roman, when 127 grasped his arm and flung him to the railing. “I gave you an order!” he shouted, firmly. The big man stood up and started to swing the gaff, when the Briton struck him across the face with his open palm. 115 fell to the deck at once. 127 picked up the gaff and glared at the Roman.

  “There will be no more fighting aboard this ship,” he said, “Get below, now!” The red haired man did as he was told. 127 raised the big man to his feet and squinted as he looked him in the face.

  “When I give you an order, you do as you are told,” he warned, “If I catch you fighting again, I will break you in half! Now get below!”