by Paul Howard
On the command vessel, Severus watched this action and filled with rage. “Fools! Fools!” he shouted. “Signal those ships to break off!” the Centurion snapped to and ordered the signal, but Severus knew it was already too late. A moment later the Drusus erupted at the waterline close to her bow. She stopped, heeled forward and began to take on the sea with such swiftness that she was soon listing at the bow. Another torpedo struck just aft of her mainmast. We looked at this in surprise. The angle was wrong. No sooner did we notice this than we heard the ominous sound of angry buzzing to our starboard.
As I realized what it was, a tiny line of foam buzzed past us, just barely missing one of our oars! I did not know what to do. Should we ship oars or increase speed? I quickly chose the latter and called for attack speed. The hammers increased and Antonia gently lurched forward. As we went I heard another torpedo move across our stern. I looked over at the Greek, who was well aft of me, and could see his face had turned an ashen gray. Something had gone wrong.
Another explosion tore across the water as poor Drusus; turned to show us her port side received another blow. The entire stern section blew apart and she began to disintegrate before our eyes in flame and smoke. The cries of her men were almost as loud as the sound of her breaking up. The sea was now covered with the heads of men bobbing in the water like corks. Thousands of them. Our entire wake was filled with debris.
Misenum’s maneuver had bought her some time. But it had run out. Two tiny bees hit her, simultaneously, on her port side. Although the angle of the strikes was completely wrong, the effect was terrible. The entire port side unraveled and she violently heeled over in seconds, dumping everyone and everything onboard into the sea.
Except for the screaming and cacophony of destruction the only organized sound to be heard was our hammers drumming away.
Another explosion struck Misenum, adding insult to injury, and she vanished from the surface in only seconds. Her men had little chance of escape. None of the thoughts from our prior engagement was on our minds. We were now fleeing for ourselves from a sea with tiny, unexploded harbingers running riot upon it.
The chaos was taking its toll upon the men of the fleet. At our distance, we could hear the cries of shouting and hysteria from men who did not understand what was happening in front of them and were sure they would be next. Severus, watching from his vantage point at the Agrippa, knew he was on the brink of losing control of his men. He quickly ordered the fleet to stop attacking and cheers arose as the signal went up. It sounded like a chariot race.
But Severus was not through. The more he saw of these new weapons, the more he wanted them. His position was certainly understandable. He had lost almost half his fleet, the Emperor’s superships had been invalidated, and a ship carrying weapons of untold power was about to slip from Rome’s grasp. He could not report that to the Emperor!
Amid cries and prayers he called the Centurion to order the men to maintain discipline. “Use whatever means you need to,” he declared, “But marshal order must be restored at once!”
The Centurion forgot himself and dared to question Severus’ order. He knew his Lord and Commander well and the look upon his face terrified him.
“You are not thinking of further engagement?” he shouted. “We cannot fight these weapons! We are being annihilated out there!” Severus spoke with uncharacteristic calm.
“Calm yourself,” he said, “It is true that we cannot match these weapons with our own but have you not studied what they do? These weapons are effective over distance and cannot be used at close range!”
“They do not need to be used at close range,” the Centurion added, “Nobody can get close enough to attack them.”
“And that is their weakness,” Severus replied. “The channel is now so cluttered with debris that they cannot reverse course. The only way out is to go forward. We can still cut them off…”
“And be blasted into firewood!” the Centurion objected.
“Not if we close the door upon them!” Severus said dryly. He moved to the charting table and placed his finger upon the farthest ship in the phalanx. “We will use the Palatine here as the anchor and swing the gate closed across the channel with these seven ships, ending with the Herculenium. That will leave us three ships in reserve, including this one. They will have to either surrender or be surrounded at such close range that the ships will practically touch each other. They cannot fire upon us at that range without destroying themselves.”
The Centurion looked at this plan and agreed it was brilliant. It just could work. “The morale of the men is collapsing, My Lord,” he suggested, “I am not sure they will carry out the order if we give it.” Severus scanned the line of vessels before him and placed his hand upon his hips.
“They will obey,” he replied, “Or they will answer to me for not doing it. I will personally give the signal myself! As much as they fear that ship, they still know they must fear me even more!” He moved to the signalman and transmitted the order. The ships acknowledged. All this time Sepulco watched this without a word, he looked over his shoulder at the topmast where the Great Bird still perched, and finally turned back to Severus.
“You are a fool, sir,” he said softly, “You will lose your ships, your command, and your life!”
“Go below!” Severus demanded. “I will not see your face again this day. And heaven help you if I do!” The astrologer bowed and went below without another word. The ships moved out as ordered, with Herculenium taking the lead and the others following according to plan.
Behind us in the channel, the tiny boats continued to go off piecemeal as they struck the carpet of flotsam that covered the sea. Their tiny propellers no longer active, they now drifted at random going off without warning. The effect was quite unnerving to us as much as to the enemy. It was hard enough to concentrate as it was.
Secundus was first to realize what the enemy was attempting and quickly called this to my attention.
“They are going to close the channel,” he declared, “They are swinging the gate!”
My initial reaction to this was but one word: “Damn!”
With this action it was now clear that we would have to slaughter the entire fleet or face the consequences. As we analyzed the pattern forming before us we could see what the tactic was. If we pushed forward, the leading ship would cut us off and the others would close around us. If we held back, the entire group would close behind us and drive us into Agrippa’s awaiting arms. They were not going to make the same mistakes they had made before.
But then, I would not have done so either.
With a sense of real trepidation, I called the Greek to me at once. We had to make the ultimate play. “Bring the apparatus up and light the smokers,” I said, calling to Primus. “Thirty seconds after the smokers are lit bring the ship to full stop. We will put on our little play for them!”
Inwardly, I could only pray that it would work. The weapons had not performed as we had expected up to this point and we were lucky to still be afloat because of it. I felt like we were mere infants playing with toys we had not yet mastered and began to realize that our next move was sure to be our end.
The smokers were lit and the fire crews scrambled about making the best show possible to convey the notion of fire onboard Antonia. I ordered below for full stop and shipped the oars, allowing our momentum to carry us toward the enemy. The wind was now at a dead calm.
The smoke hung about us like a cloud. Though the thick pall of blackness, I saw the Greek and the Chinese gingerly carry the apparatus to the stern. They looked like ghostly apparitions as they moved aft in slow, deliberate steps.
Looking forward, I could see the enemy slowing his pursuit. Our little theater production was playing well. They believed we were on fire and began to signal us. I heard no splash behind us as the Greek lowered the now active device to sea as gently as he could. Over the sound of hammers the clear, crystalline tone of the bell began to ring.
The Greek quickl
y emerged from the cloud and ordered the second smokers to be lit. The enemy vessels were now close but still not within ballister range. I could just see the Palatine drawing in behind us. We only had seconds to move if we were to beat the Herculenium and avoid being cut off.
As the smoke screen was lit the air filled with thick bellows of black smoke. Instantly, the horizons disappeared in all directions.
“Ramming speed!” I cried and quickly ordered the helm three degrees to port. The splash was immediately heard, followed by the sound of our hammers quickly filling the ship. We were blind to everything before us at ramming speed, a truly frightening thing to do under any circumstances. But it was not nearly as frightening as the sound of that bell tinkling over the water behind us.
The smoke had now closed about the ships that were pursuing us as well and the sound of the bell was now covered by the sound of curses and confusion behind us. I ordered the helm to steer straight ahead and prayed we had not over-steered ourselves toward the shore. To our starboard I could hear the voices of what I could only guess was the Herculenium ten yards off, quickly falling away to our stern.
The thick smoke just hung there in the air before us as we plowed blindly through it. The sound of the bell was now disappearing in the din of confusion behind us. With all that was going on, I began to suspect that the Greek was right about it being missed completely. It seemed just as well to me as the only thing we needed to do now was make our break and escape the trap. As the sounds behind us grew I realized that the goal of escape had been achieved.
As we continued, the light of the open air began to appear before us. I found myself wishing that they would not find the apparatus. I had seen enough destruction to last a lifetime. Soon we were out in the open and could look back at the giant cloud of smoke which now hung there in the lifeless calm. It now enclosed all seven vessels that were still pursuing us. To our starboard was nothing but open sea. I imagined I could still hear the bell but could no longer be sure if it was not only in my mind.
A few moments later the Greek sent word that we had reached the minimum safe distance. Primus suggested we had to rest the men, who simply could not keep up the stroke. I ordered the oars shipped and let our momentum carry us for a while. Moving aft, we peered at the black pall falling away to our stern. The Greek stood watching it as well.
“Can we set sail?” I asked. “The men have had it.”
“Do not set sail Captain,” he replied, “The heat flash could ignite…”
He never got to finish the sentence.
Inside the cloud only moments before, the pursuing ships realized we were nowhere to be found. Two had actually struck one-another and engaged before realizing we were gone. Some commanders were convinced that the fire had been our undoing and we had sunk without a trace. The other ships went down so quickly during the battle that it seemed plausible to them.
The men on the ships before us were amazed when we emerged from the smoke and somewhat confused by it. Within the cloud, as they began to realize we were gone, one of the hands aboard the Vesuvius heard something strange ahead: a bell was ringing. As they squinted to make out what it was through the thick smoke, the ship, which had come to an almost complete stop, bumped into something with their hull.
When they investigated what it was, their eyes were greeted by the most unexpected sight. A perfectly round treasure box in the finest white enamel, trimmed in pure gold. The Captain eyed it hungrily and had it brought aboard to be placed before him. In the darkness, another ship inquired what they had found.
“Nothing,” he answered, “Just a piece of driftwood.” In the dim light his officers grinned in agreement. “They must have gone down!” he said to them. “There is probably plenty for us all!”
His eyes widened with greed as he undid the latch and began to raise the lid. In a fraction of a second, the last thing he or his officers saw were each other’s skeletons against an intense fluorescent pulse.
Three thousand other men saw the same thing and disappeared.
On the stern of Antonia, I was talking to the Greek when the brilliant flash went off. I quickly turned my head toward it and was stunned by the sight of a tremendous fireball, the like of which is hard to describe, where the cloud of smoke had once been.
It roiled up into the sky in mere seconds, churning and fuming up a column of smoke and steam. There was no sign of the ships below, only an expanse of steam and smoke spreading on the surface of the sea from the column.
The sound was a deafening roar of thunderous blast that shook the ship and all upon it to the keel. As it rose, I estimate that the fireball was at least a thousand feet across. A moment later another sound could be heard roaring across the sea like a typhoon. A visible shock wave soared outward across the sea and hit us in seconds. Bringing a heat and wind that struck us like a wall, it blew us off of our feet.
Primus yelled and threw off his mantle, whose feathers had been instantly singed off. It was too hot to touch. I suddenly could feel sunburn upon my face and hands. All that was not covered by clothing had the same sunburn. I looked at my comrades and they were also burned.
The air filled with the smell of burnt rope and I turned painfully to see if we were on fire. The intense heat had singed every loose strand of our aft lines, which were now smooth, as if freshly flame treated. As I looked at this spectacle unfolding before us, I realized what the Greek meant by ‘minimum safe distance’. I turned to see what his reaction was. His face showed no sign of expression or surprise at all. He studied the event closely, as one might observe a bug in a glass.
Nobody said anything. We were all too shocked by what we just saw. Primus watched, his mouth gaping open, with a sick expression in his eyes.
On Agrippa and the remaining two ships, the effect was even more profound. The yelling and confusion was now replaced by total silence and prayers, as men watched with an expression reserved for miracles and natural catastrophes. Many covered their faces from pain and pure astonishment. When the heat wave hit and burned them all notions other than primal fear were gone.
Severus watched in complete disbelief as the giant mushroom rose above the sea where his mighty fleet had once been. The silence of his men began quietly to give way to moans and cries of hysteria. Most of them were now convinced that the gods had turned against them as in tales of old. Any who doubted such tales were suddenly becoming believers. Many threw themselves into the sea, others fell to their knees and cried out loud for deliverance. A legion of disciplined razors was now reduced to a frightened, mumbling mob.
The Centurion came to his side and fell to his knees. Clasping his hands and pleading,
“Please, My Lord!” he demanded. “No more. No more of this. They are not men on that ship. We cannot fight gods!”
This statement infuriated Severus and he glared down at the Centurion. “Get up, fool,” he demanded, “Off of your knees! These are not gods but clever men. And we will take them!”
“No,” demanded the Centurion, “You cannot! You have killed us all with your vanity! They will not obey you!” Severus drew his sword and pulled the man to his feet.
“Worthless fool,” he hissed, “I am surrounded by idiots!” he called to the signalman. “Attack!” he shouted. “Order the attack or I will kill all of you!”
The signalman picked up his flags with burned hands and gave the signal. A roar erupted from the two remaining ships. The Caecilianus dropped her jibs and struck her flag. Her oars never touched the sea.
But the nearest ship was the mighty Tarsus. Her commander, Gaius Valerius, was a soldier of iron who feared neither god nor man and gave the command to pursue.
An explosion of screams and refusals erupted from his crew and officers alike. Valerius plowed into them barking orders with his sword drawn. He was seized by his men, who took him aloft and carried him to the bow. With cries of sacrilege and sacrifice they put a rope about his neck and swung him out on the jib, where he dangled and struggled to free himself f
or what seemed like a very long time. Soon his body went limp.
It swung there as testament to the mutiny that had just befallen him.
As we drew near, a madness seized upon Severus’ mind. He called upon his crew to prepare for battle. When they objected, he cried out, “If we are to die at the hand of god or man, let it be as Romans and not like those cowardly dogs! Aloft I say!”
He must have been a great commander, for the men of Agrippa did as he told them without further argument.
If our enemies had known the state of things aboard Antonia, they might have reacted differently. We were now desperately short of ordinance and were played out physically. I ordered below for the best speed we could muster but knew it would be next to useless. Our oarsmen were at the end of endurance and could barely offer more than a crawl, maybe less. The wind was flat and the blast had so disturbed the sea that our helm and oars were greatly reduced in effect.
Agrippa loomed before us like a giant leviathan. I ordered the helm to port but the ship barely responded. Our mines could not help us and we did not dare try any more of the torpedoes on a craft directly ahead of us.
The Briton mustered what archers he could but we had few arrows left. We were reduced to two remaining cannon and hand-to-hand combat. The boarding crews were aloft upon Agrippa’s rigging and loomed in the air like dark clumps against the late afternoon sky.
As soon as we were in range, they began sending flights of arrows. The first volley caught me in my left leg as I was moving forward and it melted below me. My balance shifted and I nearly fell over the railing, my head plummeting toward the churning oars below me. A great, hairy hand jerked upon my armor and pulled me back aboard. I looked up and was greeted by the sight of the Briton. He leaned over and broke the shaft off of the arrow with a savage shock that shot up me like a hot knife.
