by Paul Howard
After a brief time I moved back on-deck to follow up on my orders. 53 reported that all was well. He also informed me that 36 Secundus already stationed a detail at the armory and then went to join the celebration, where drink got the most of him. I relieved him and took the watch.
As the moon rose over the sea, I considered the punishment that 36 Secundus should receive. It was not as easy as it might seem. If I were Urbano, the original Captain, the decision would be easy. The decision for the Captain of a slave revolt was not. Because he had discharged his orders and assigned guards to the armory, disobedience or mutiny was out of the question. His attack on Calpurnia was a crime, but more in the nature of a betrayal of our pact and dereliction of discipline.
As he had no specific assigned orders dereliction of duty did not apply. What was the proper punishment under these circumstances? I had learned that, although he had intended to force Calpurnia to yield to his drunken desires, he had not cut her intentionally. He was in the process of holding a knife to her throat when Sarah had surprised him and screamed. His knife had only punctured her in a reflex action when she startled him. The thought of this made me angry enough to want to kill him but how would the Brotherhood react to that?
Besides, this was not a personal matter for me alone. There was precedent for limited dismemberment but that struck me as impractical. We had neither the time nor manpower to deal with a maimed crewman and the healing time involved. Flogging or beating was also possible, but 53 had already nearly flayed the flesh off of his back and further such punishment might kill him.
When my watch had ended and I returned to my cabin. I was no closer to my final judgment than I had been before. Calpurnia had fallen to sleep and I sat close to her in a chair for most of the night until sleep finally closed my eyes.
In the morning, the ship was tense. No one said anything about the pending punishment that would come at noon, but it was on every man’s mind. Calpurnia was cheerful and behaved as if nothing had happened, which proved a blessing for us all.
The Greek approached me shortly before midday and the Persian accompanied him. “I think we may have a solution to your problem, Captain.” he said, and suggested that we go to my cabin and look at the charts. As we moved along the Chinese also accompanied us, along with the shipwright.
The Greek unrolled the Big Chart of the Mediterranean and bade me to look closer.
“The problem, as I understand it,” he began, “Is how to travel the length of the Mediterranean without having to hug the coastlines. The Persian reminded me of an old charting technique used by the Egyptians.” The Persian leaned in and began to make lines with his hand on the chart.
“The Egyptians,” he began, “Used a method of charting that employed a grid placed over the sea charts. This grid then formed squares of equal size and distance both on the North-South and East-West coordinates. By calculating these coordinates on the grid, they were able to maintain course over very long distances without repeated points of reference.”
“I am aware of that.” I replied.
“The Egyptians used the stars, mainly.” he replied.
“That is the real problem,” I replied, “I can take this ship anywhere with the sun and stars to navigate by. But on the open sea there are sure to be clouds and fog banks. At this time of year we could lose sight of the sky for weeks. If that happened we could be easily blown off-course and become hopelessly lost at sea.”
The Chinese spoke softly. “Are you familiar with magnets?”
I had seen magicians play tricks with them many times and nodded my head. He reached into his tunic and produced a piece of metal shaped like a large arrowhead. It was painted red on the pointed end and black on the tail. It was attached to a piece of string and he held it up with a grin.
“This magnet,” he said, “Always points to the north. Nobody knows why, but it does.” I looked over at the Greek and he nodded his head in agreement.
“It works, Captain,” he added, “I have tested it myself.” The Chinese offered it to me and it took it. I pointed it toward the bow, and few seconds later, it slowly swung back and forth and finally stopped at the same direction it had pointed when he gave it to me.
“The herdsmen of my country use it in the mountainous places where the land is very plain and one can easily lose his bearings.” he said.
“With this pointer and a grid reference,” asked the Greek, “Do you feel that you could navigate the open sea?”
I looked at the pointer and thought for a moment.
“What do you need?” I asked. He rolled up the chart and tucked it under his arm.
“Just this chart and six hours!” he said and moved out of the door, followed by the rest. Except the shipwright, who remained behind. I looked at him quizzically.
“Do you think we can do this?” I asked.
“It only matters what you think, Captain.” he replied.
I had never sailed on a ship of any kind as seaworthy as Antonia before. She was so stable that the sea hardly turned her from upright at all. You could actually set jars or bottles loosely on her tables and decks without fear of them tipping, no matter how narrow they were. She was truly uncanny upon the water. At times she hardly seemed to be moving at all, even at high speed. The sea was her friend. I thanked the shipwright and returned to the bridge with the approach of midday.
After donning a dress uniform I returned to the deck, only to discover that all of my officers had done likewise. As I moved to the bridge I could not help noticing how distinguished they all looked. Almost like nobles. The men had mustered aft, except for the Greek, and Calpurnia joined us on the starboard end of the bridge. Sarah held her hand. My officers took their place at my side and the bell rang.
The sea was calm and the air was cool. There was no sound at all but the wind billowing in the sails above. 53 stood at attention and saluted me.
“All hands assembled for punishment as ordered, Captain.” he snapped. The conch blew. I must confess I still had no idea what the form of punishment would be.
“Bring the prisoner on deck!” I ordered. Two men went below and emerged with 36 Secundus propped between them. He was still weak and sweaty from the beating he had taken the night before. He was a pitiful sight. His back had been treated with salt, as is the custom after lashing, and he was clearly in a great deal of pain.
He could not bear to look into the faces of the other men, but he looked up at me with great effort. His face seemed only to await my justice, whatever it would be. It was then, when I looked into his eyes, that I knew what I would say. I never got to say it.
Before another word could be spoken the conch blew from the bridge. “Ship approaching!” was the cry and we quickly rushed forward to see what it was. We had already encountered several ships since we had gotten underway, all of them merchant and fishermen. This was to be expected. The Anatolian sea-lanes were always busy. But we could not afford to take chances and every approaching ship had to be carefully scrutinized as a potential enemy.
By the time I had reached the prow the vessel had cleared the horizon but was still too far away to see what it was. As we strained and squinted our eyes to make out its type we were greeted by the unnerving sight of another mast popping over the horizon.
“Alarm!” I cried and the conch blew “Quarters”. Antonia erupted into a flurry of activity.
“Shall I send the men aloft?” asked 53.
“No. Not yet,” I replied, “We do not know who they are yet. No point in making a show. We will bluff them if we can. Hoist the S.P.Q.R.!”
“Yes, sir!” he moved to the main mast, and as the Senatorial Colors went up, we could finally make out what was approaching us: Two Roman war galleys.
“Standard biremes, Captain,” said the shipwright, “Not very fast but in this sea they will be on us in just over thirty minutes.”
“Could it be a patrol?” asked 53.
“Not in these waters,” said the shipwright, “They never send pat
rols this far out unless they have specific orders.”
“Us?” I asked.
“Probably.” said the shipwright.
This statement felt like a punch in the stomach but I did my best to conceal it. “We had better make a decision and we need to do it fast!!” 53 said. I looked at the approaching ships and turned the question over in my mind.
“For now,” I said, “We will continue to play our hand and keep bluffing. But we are going to be ready in case they call it. Get the Greek up here!” 53 quickly went aft and brought the Greek to join me at the bridge.
“Your orders, Captain?’ he asked.
“You wanted to test the new weapons,” I said, “This may be your chance!”
The Greek’s eyes flashed with excitement. I pointed at the oncoming warships. “Two warships fully armed,” I added, “What weapons tactic would you recommend?” He squinted at them for a moment. The sun was now gleaming on the water, making it difficult to see through the glare.
“Cannon and surface torpedoes, Captain.” he suggested.
“Very well,” I answered and looked into his eyes, “Prepare them!”
If you have never anxiously watched a ship approach from the horizon, it is a difficult sensation to describe. Time almost seems to stand still and distances take on a sense of the infinite. It is purely emotional, of course, but the effect is quite real. Most of us were too busy in preparation to think about such things, but this is a time when a Captain can feel quite useless. More like an observer than a participant, with little but his thoughts to keep him company as everything moves, like a blur, in front of him.
We watched closely as the ships drew within signaling range. The first ship dipped its flag in salute and we responded in kind. The helmsman cried out. “Look! She is firing up her works!” He was right, indeed she was. A few moments later, the dreaded creaking and snapping reached our ears. She was priming her ballisters. No sooner did I notice this when the faint orange glow amidships in the second vessel could be clearly seen. These ships were on a deadly serious errand.
The glare on the water was increasing, now with such severity that we were only seeing glimpses of them among the flashes of light. The sun was now in their favor. The shipwright shielded his eyes. “They are signaling,” he shouted, “They want us to drop sail and turn to.”
53 turned toward me with eyes that cut right through me. He still was not sure who I was. “We cannot bluff the Roman navy,” he said, “But we can run and they’ll never catch us!”
“And leave them to report our position and course?” I replied. “We have been within Imperial signaling range for the last half-day. If those ships reach port now our location and identity will reach Rome within six hours! The entire Mediterranean would be alerted to our presence within twenty-four hours after that. These people are not minstrels. The Roman navy does not deal in rumors. They might even guess what we are up to back in Rome. If that happens, all bets are off!”
“So we are going to engage them?” he asked.
“No! We are going to sink them,” I replied, “Order the men aloft and trim sail for maneuvering.”
“Yes, sir!” he replied and took off.
“Primus!” I yelled.
He turned around and looked at me with an amused expression on his face. “Sir?” he asked.
“Strike that damn flag!”
26
THE EDGE OF THE WORLD
In my study of combat tactics in my youth, I was taught that a good commander never concerns himself with what his enemy is thinking, only what he is doing. So when that flag was struck I cannot tell you how it was received by our adversaries, only that it was met by the immediate sound of Hortator’s hammers echoing over the sea at battle speed.
The first ship was closing in. Our fire crews fanned out over the ship with barrels of wine and began dipping rags into them. Others flung wine upon the riggings and canvas. The call of readiness came from below. I quickly gave the order to ship oars. This surprised many, but in my preparations I had already determined that the best naval tactic would be seamanship under sail. The ability to maneuver and keep the enemy where we want him. Antonia was now as the Greek first described it: a platform for delivering ordinance upon the enemy without letting him come close enough to board us. The test of this theory was now at hand. From the bridge I could see the inventors setting up their cannon on the rails. Seven cannons graced our prow and the enemy was now within range.
“Is all in readiness?” I yelled. The Chinese looked over his shoulder with that familiar toothy smile.
“Ready, Captain!” he replied.
I ordered the helm slightly to starboard and off the wind. Antonia heeled softly and our speed dropped. I turned back to the Chinese.
“You may fire when ready.” I shouted, quickly glancing up at the crews above. To my surprise their work was seaman-like and the officers understood what to do. I went into battle expecting to give endless sailing orders and ended up giving few. The crew had learned how to handle Antonia.
“Order below, down oars!” I cried. The order was repeated below. And the familiar splash followed immediately, braking Antonia to almost a stop. The first vessel was approaching us head on. Below at the bow the Chinese completed his sighting and tapped the Greek, who instantly touched the torch to the wick.
The flash erupted from the barrel and I felt a shock that buckled my knees and shook my teeth. Through dull ears I heard the shell whistle across the water. A moment later it splashed harmlessly short of its target. Immediately a brief argument broke out between the two men at the bow.
“Ship oars!” I ordered. Thinking we only had a moment before I would have to turn her more to the wind. “Gentlemen, when you are ready!” I said. They changed positions at the second cannon and the Greek made the sighting. He touched the Chinese and the torch was put to the wick with the same result, only this time to port and a little closer.
I realized I had made a mistake. We were still looking into glare and fired too soon. Normally the enemy would have changed his aspect to us by this point, but our explosions and splashes had made him cautious. The enemy realized he was much better off facing us head on and adjusted his tactics accordingly.
We were now within range of his ballisters. I could smell his acrid smoke. An instant later came that loud wooden plunge, and the air above him filled with flaming balls coming right at us.
Short. Only one missile struck our side and fell in the water. But this was soon followed by another. I quickly ordered us into the wind and turned back to port. A moment later we were pummeled by a shower of flaming sparks. One projectile fell within several feet of me on the bridge and was quickly extinguished. The Persian had now joined the team at the bow and the Greek quickly handed him the sight. The fire crews were scrambling everywhere.
Another volley. This was quickly answered by another shot from our cannon. We could hear the shell overshoot the enemy and splash in the water through another shower of sticky sparks and eye burning smoke. A piece hit my armor and burned for a brief moment but went out by itself. A flush of heat burned into my side.
We were now flanking the enemy and looking at his starboard. Another blast from the cannon. Another splash. I was beginning to wonder if these things would be of any use at all. Just aft of amidships another toy was being tested. The tube had been lowered into the water and five tiny craft were set. The little wires were attached. The safeties were off. With each rudder set, the little boats entered the water and immediately made that funny buzzing sound, like angry little wet bees. They buzzed and hissed away from us across the water toward the enemy and became invisible on the sea surface only a few yards off.
Another shot from the cannon. The shell whizzed across the water and an instant later the rigging of the enemy’s mainmast exploded and collapsed in flaming wreckage to the deck. Another burst of shot came from the enemy, but this time falling short.
At the bow there was no celebration. The two men looked at
each other and nodded their heads in agreement. They had found the enemy’s range and now knew how to do it. The other ship was doomed. No more fire would come from her decks.
We were now beyond a bow aspect to fire. We noted this and realized its meaning. But I had no time to consider anything further, because a moment later a flaming explosion erupted from the enemy’s bow, just at the waterline. No sooner had this occurred than a second and third explosion occurred in her middle. The entire enemy ship was now completely engulfed in flame on her starboard side and her hull was breaking apart. Instantly, a fourth such explosion struck her aft. She completely broke up and gobbled down into the sea leaving a cloud of steaming foam to mark her grave. She was gone in seconds.
I was dumbfounded by the sight. Everything in my head was dull roar as the men began to stare, just as amazed as I was. No one had ever seen anything like that before. There was no celebration in me at all. A ship of the Roman Navy and all souls aboard her were swallowed up in hellish fury by Neptune. They never had any chance of escape. In less than a minute, it was as if they never existed at all. I felt sick inside. Those little torpedoes were murderously effective. They could reduce anything on the sea to nothing in moments. Modern shipping was just no match for that kind of power.
But there was no time for regret; the battle was not yet over. For no sooner had the torpedoes struck than the Master of the other vessel broke off the attack and turned to flee. He was a very nimble seaman and was quickly putting some distance between himself and us. He was well beyond our range and showing us his heels. Every bit of canvas he could fly was laid on as he set course straight into the wind without regard for destination.
53 realized the situation and made eye contact with me just to be sure. He quickly ordered the men to get underway. I ordered the helm to pursue. We laid her into the wind.
Antonia flew.
I wish I could describe the feeling of a great ship like that cruising on the wind, a feeling of almost weightlessness as she gently bounced over the water like a tiny sloop. So deftly, so softly. She was indeed, the fastest ship in the world. The distance evaporated and we were moving in on her stern like a coiled snake ready to strike.
