by Paul Howard
He guided me to my feet and I witnessed our final struggle with the biggest ship in the world. The Chinese moved to the bow and set the cannon for her waterline. He was just about to strike the wick when another flight of arrows struck him with full force, knocking the torch from his hand. He slowly rose up on all fours and grasped at the torch with more arrows sticking out of him than a porcupine. He touched the wick and the terrible, metallic hiss erupted from its rear. In perfect Latin, he spoke the last words I ever heard him say:
“Oh, Shit!”
The cannon erupted in a savage misfire that set off the other cannon at once, releasing a column of flame and impact that went up into the riggings of Agrippa, burning and knocking the men of the boarding crew to the deck or the sea. The explosion knocked us all off our feet and threw Antonia hard to port, blowing a whole in her starboard decking almost thirty feet long.
As we struggled to regain our balance and shake off the shock of what had happened, I now realized there was nobody at the helm and the ship was roaring out of our control right into a collision with Agrippa. Moving as fast I could on only one good leg, I yelled for somebody, anybody to take the helm. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see our oars collide with theirs, throwing huge, razor-sharp chunks of wood up into the air and upon our decks. I quickly made my way to the bridge through the chaos that was now Antonia as our port side collided with hers. The ship rocked violently to starboard as our hull scraped up the side of Agrippa, turning us almost diagonal to the sea.
Just as quickly, the pull of the earth upon the two groaning hulls brought us back down with a violent splash and impact with the sea that was so hard it you could feel your feet on the top of your head. The ship was thrown violently away and cleared the Agrippa, with our forward momentum alone to propel us. We were now in the strait and crawling away.
The helmsman quickly revived and moved to back to his post, setting our rudder straight ahead. But there was no wind or oar to propel us. The sound of utter chaos below told us that the damage to the men in the gallery was as bad as the damage to the ship.
Undaunted, Severus at last saw his chance and hastily reorganized his crew for the pursuit. Even at his slow speed he had an excellent chance of catching us. We were dead ducks and we knew it.
I have commented before on the fact that women are often mislabeled as the weaker of the sexes. Throughout our entire struggle Calpurnia had made a careful study of how the battle was going and realized our situation was impossible from the moment the apparatus went off.
She quickly summoned Sarah from her duties and called for her assistance in the kitchen, just as the men of Tarsus were in rebellion. She had an outlandish idea. So strange and impossible that only a woman could have conceived of anything so completely deceptive.
I called to the Greek and suggested we release more fire mines just as Agrippa was getting underway in pursuit. He informed me that it would take at least ten minutes to set the launch and arm the mines. We did not even have half that time. I looked over at Primus and his shoulders dropped in understanding of what was on my mind. I was just about to tell him to go below and open the shuttlecocks when an unexpected voice began issuing commands for the men to get out of the way.
When I turned around I was pushed aside by Calpurnia, who was rolling the largest cauldron from the kitchen, with Sarah’s assistance, straight toward the stern. She and Sarah had girded it with ropes and sealed them with wax. She moved others out of her way, nearly rolling them over with the cauldron, and stopped right at the middle of the stern. Turning the pot, still on its side, so that the top was pointed directly at the enemy. Then she grasped a torch from the astonished Greek and ordered the men to step aside.
She held the torch over the top of the big pot, like she was ready to touch a fuse and glared at the Agrippa, as if challenging them to keep coming.
I thought she had lost her mind at first but I suddenly realized what she was trying to do. The reaction of the Agrippa’s crew was as swift as it was surprising. No sooner had she held the torch aloft when a great cry arose from the enemy vessel and dozens of men desperately threw themselves overboard!
An instant later a great explosion erupted from the port side just behind the bow of the mighty ship, surprising us as much as the enemy. Some of us began looking at the sea to determine the cause. A few moments later the smell of Greek fire gave us the answer; one of our angry little bees, its motor long spent, had gotten caught in our wash and failed to turn with us. Severus, who stood at the bow, was knocked off of his feet by the blast and was now creeping toward the rail. I quickly surveyed the damage and she now clearly had to break off the attack. She was taking in the sea and her crews had to turn their full attention to damage control. Although the explosion had torn a hole at the waterline and she was burning, the Agrippa looked as if she could hang on to sail another day. Her crews were already dealing with the situation as we moved away.
Calpurnia had seen something in our strategy that the rest of us had missed. It was not the weapons and their destruction that had turned the tide to our favor, but the incredible terror that they had created in the hearts of our enemies. I suddenly saw what the crew of Agrippa saw in their minds when she held the torch aloft.
It was thus that the Great Battle of Gibraltar ended and we were saved. By the resourcefulness of a woman who might have won the battle with a ruse. Pure, blind chance and an errant torpedo.
There was no celebration, no cheering, only the onset of fatigue and a sense of shock as the events of the afternoon began to sink in. Our losses were terrible, our ship was near ruin, yet somehow we had survived. There would be a time to rest but it was still far off. We had to tend to the requirements of the ship in the wake of the battle. We collapsed for a few moments in a pile at the stern: Primus, the Greek, Calpurnia, the Briton and I. Trying to regain a little strength before taking on what had to come next.
A few moments later, something was handed back to us that filled us with a terrible sorrow. It was the funny little hat worn by our Chinese friend, who was no more. We each touched it reverently and finally handed it to the Greek, who buried his face into it and began to weep. A familiar hand was placed gently upon my aching shoulder. It was Primus. In a voice as dry as a hot summer wind, he softly uttered,
“Now, Little Roman, you are truly the Hand of God!”
31
LEAVING THE WORLD
The sun was beginning its surrender to the horizon and the sky was turning a brilliant orange. As we lay there I could suddenly feel what I had been longing for all day caressing my cheeks. The wind was rising. I started to get up to move to the bridge but my leg stopped me cold. It was beginning to swell and it hurt more than I had realized.
Sarah quickly noticed my expression and, not as gently as I would have wished, began to tear my tunic away from the wound to examine it. Presently she spoke. “You cannot move, sir. The arrow is very close to the artery and you may die if it punctures it.” She called for a stretcher and I was quickly taken below, giving orders to get underway as soon as we could. I asked if the shipwright was still alive and suggested that he make an assessment of the damage to the ship, with the retaining clip being the first priority. I was fully prepared to give the order to abandon ship.
As we moved through the gallery, I got my first glimpse of the state of the men below. The pale sunlight filled the forward section of the gallery from the gaping hole above. It was a gruesome sight. There was blood and mangled pieces of men all over the forward benches. The chunks of humanity in some spots on the catwalk were in piles several feet deep. As for the living, the injuries were severe and they were all around me. I could not help feeling guilty that I was being tended to with priority when there was so much injury around me.
As I was brought into the infirmary, the first thing that greeted me was the sight of 89 Primus leaning against a bulkhead, holding a right arm that was detached just below the elbow.
“What about the Persian?” I
asked. Sarah informed that he was badly burned but was expected to recover. Many of the men I saw had blood trails from their eardrums; some had lost almost all of their hearing. I tried to learn more but she insisted I be quiet. Directing the men to hold me down, she gave me a draught of strong liquor and drew a heated blade from the fire.
“I am sorry My Lord,” she said, “But this is going to hurt…” She moved to my leg and a shot of pain went through me that blurred my vision, stopped my breath and made the room start spinning. Everything went dark as the sounds around me got farther away like a big, empty temple. I heard nothing more after that.
Far away, at the mouth of the strait, Severus stood at the rail of his great, listing ship and looked out into the channel where his fleet had once been. In the light of the setting sun the sea glowed in somber shades of purple and green, broken only by the black silhouettes of men and debris for miles before him. He looked to his left, where the body of Valerius still hung dark against the orange sky. A sudden burst of gushing water drew his vision farther away, just as one of his dead ships took its final noisy plunge into the depths amid bubbles and foam.
The sound of the men floundering in the sea was not as loud as it had been before, as the effect of chill and collision with large chucks of wreckage continued to take its toll. He looked up at his topmast just in time to watch as the Great Black visitor spread its wings and took to the sky. He gasped and turned back to the carnage before him. Removing his crested helmet and letting it drop to the deck, he became dimly aware that someone was talking to him. He turned at last to the voice.
“What are your orders, My General?” The Centurion stood nearby, his face pale and drawn. Severus looked out across the sea once more.
“Lower all the boats for rescue,” he muttered softly, “The men will not last long in this sea.” The Centurion acknowledged the order and swiftly moved to carry it out.
The astrologer emerged from below and approached Severus. “My lord,” he said, “I wish to apologize for my comments to you earlier. I beg your forgiveness.” Severus did not hear a word of it.
“What?” he finally said at length, a strange distant look upon his face.
“I ask your forgiveness, sir.” the astrologer repeated. Severus stared at the sea.
“For what?” he said, not turning to face him.
Sepulco realized the General was not himself anymore. He smiled and just said, “It is of no importance.” The astrologer looked at the men and wreckage strewn over the sea and clasped his hands. “What are you going to say to Rome about all this?” he asked.
Severus snapped out of it and turned to Sepulco.
“What shall I say?” he replied and smiled sadly.
“Nothing!” He gently placed his hand on the astrologer’s arm.
“Severus speaks no more!”
He nodded to Sepulco once more and moved down the steps to his cabin, pausing only for a moment to watch as the boats began to move out into the darkening mass of men. He returned to his cabin and closed the door behind him quietly.
Seven days later, a tersely worded message was thrust into the hands of the Emperor. It contained only fifteen words:
‘THE SEPTIMUS FLEET HAS BEEN DESTROYED.
PUBLIUS NERVANUS SEVERUS IS DEAD BY HIS OWN HAND.’
When I awoke, night had drawn its vale over the sea and Antonia was quiet once more. In the soft glow of the lamps I could see the shape of Sarah moving in the gallery next door. There was a dull ache in my leg and my head was buzzing. I did not know how long I had been out.
“So, you are with us again!”
I knew that voice. I turned toward it and saw Primus looking at me with a soft smile on his face. I tried to sit up but he stopped me.
“The ship…” I asked.
“The ship is secure and we are back under sail, Captain,” he replied, gently, “There has been no sign of pursuit. We left the strait a few hours ago and are headed south. The sea lane is clear, the weather is good. We will instigate repairs at first light.”
“And the men?” I asked.
“Seventy-one dead,” he said, “Another nineteen are seriously injured. Many have lost their hearing. Sarah thinks we may lose three more in the night. It could have been much worse. We are all lucky to be alive tonight.”
“I know,” I sighed, “How long have you been here?”
“Only a few minutes.” he said but I knew he was lying.
“Did I dream it all, Primus?” I asked. “I was wondering if I had dreamt it all!”
He looked down at the floor and shook his head. “I can still hardly believe it myself,” he whispered, “I keep seeing that ship collapsing. The giant mushroom rising up out of the ocean…I cannot quite get my thoughts around it in my mind.”
As I was listening to him, I noticed the feel and sounds of the ship, which did not seem right.
“The ship feels wrong.” I said. Primus’ expression turned sad.
“Yes,” he sighed, “It feels wrong. The retainer is tight and there is no sign of separation or corrosion, but the explosion did something to the hull. The shipwright describes it as misalignment. She is still water-tight but she feels different and does not respond to her helm as she used to.”
“We sprung her!” I said.
“Yes,” he said softly, “He says she will never be the way that she was again.”
I attempted to sit up and the dull pain suddenly got sharp and sent a roar through me that made my eyes water. He leaned over and adjusted my pillow
“If you try to move,” he chided, “You may start the bleeding again. You will have to remain still for a few days. The arrow missed the artery by less than an inch.”
“We have to see to the men…” I started.
“They are being seen to,” he assured me, “The crew is resting. Most of them just passed out from sheer fatigue. We have a skeleton crew up top. It was all we could do. If we run into anything tonight we are not in a position to do much about it. But I think there is little chance of that! It is very quiet out here. Just rest, Little Roman. You have earned it!”
‘We all have earned it.’ I thought.
The days of convalescence passed slowly and there is not much to tell of them. On the following day, my bed was borne up top to the stern, where a burial service was held for our departed friends. So many splashes, even more tears and songs. Two more had died in the night. Since the beginning of our journey, nearly a third of us had gone. I wish I could tell you their names, but we never knew them. Only numbers.
But I can still see their faces.
The repairs went on during my confinement, which I found frustrating but necessary under the circumstances. Calpurnia spent as much time at my bedside as her duties would allow but it turned out that she had more to do for morale than ever before.
The battle and its terrible sights and sounds were taking a serious toll upon the minds of the men. Many could not sleep; others had attacks of melancholy and sudden fears. We had never seen the like of it before.
The ship was haunted by strange imaginings. The weapons of terror were too much for many of us to deal with in our minds. The consumption of wine reached new heights among us as alcohol seemed to be the only way some could cope. Others became stoic like statues, saying almost nothing. I realized that a form of strange sentiment had come over us, like an illness. I decided by the third day that I could remain in bed no longer.
I had a crutch made and promised to use my leg as little as I could, (Sarah would not have let me up if I had not done so!). On the morning of the third day I got my first time up top to inspect the damage to the bow. It had been covered with canvas and planking, but the hole was enormous. The deck was sound but the forecastle was no longer serviceable.
My presence did have a much better effect on the crew than I had guessed. Their affection for their commanders had increased in the wake of the battle and their affection for me was embarrassing. I had already heard tales that were being spread of my inc
redible acts of heroism during the fight, most of which, I cannot recall as fact. In the interest of morale I said nothing and let the stories go. It made the men feel better and that was what counted.
By the sixth day of sailing south the nature of the coasts began to change. As we approached the ports of Mauritania we encountered more sea traffic, but they were fishing and trade ships which posed no threat to us at all. What they thought to see such a warship as ours in those waters I cannot say, for we kept a respectable distance from them as much as we could.
I suspect they were glad of it.
By the end of eleventh day the signal fires and coastal lights almost disappeared entirely. As the moon began to wane we had to confine our sailing to the daylight hours, fearing that our maps would prove inadequate and it was just too perilous to risk sailing at night. The maps were quickly becoming more unreliable with each mile we traveled.
Finally we came at last to the southernmost recognizable landmark of the Empire. The Temple of Pillars. From here we would no longer be under Roman jurisdiction. My leg was feeling much recovered and I found I could stand for long periods without the aid of a crutch. As I stood at the stern and watched the distant columns on the hill overlooking the sea, the sun was beginning to set.
My mind raced back to all the things and people that were now a part of my past. Things I could never hope to recapture. My father and friends. Memories of times past.
And Rome itself.
As I thought of these things and watched the columns retreat behind us, they seemed to distort and change shape. I felt something warm roll down my cheeks. I touched it and felt the wetness of my own tears.
Who would not weep when leaving their whole world behind?
The only thing we could be sure of from this point forward would be uncertainty. It occurred to me that this was the first time I had ever been outside of the Empire. I did not know how to feel about it. It did not feel good.
