The Galley

by Paul Howard

  “Leave this part of the ship or I will kill you!” the Nubian warned. This angered 36 Secundus; several others moved forward and joined him.

  “For the last time. Get out of way!” one of them ordered. I do not know where he came from, but the Chinese appeared near the group with a sword in his hand and a very determined glare in his eyes.

  “You heard what he said,” 93 said softly, “You will not do this!” The other men pulled their swords and stepped forward, none quite ready to be the first to take on the Nubian or Chinese, whose courage surprised everyone.

  Suddenly a sword was flung into the deck in front of them, plunging deep into the planking. Its handle swung in the air, taunting them. They jumped back surprised, and began to look about for the one threw it.

  A solitary figure stood above them on top of the forecastle. His shape silhouetted against the sky with his hands upon his hips, he loomed over all defiantly, like a lord. With his hair blowing in the wind, he was an imposing sight above them. Their mouths gaped open as he gazed down upon them. The men looked up, transfixed with amazement. The words just spewed out of his mouth.

  “So, you want to fight?” I said. “There is a sword! Pick it up!”

  No one moved a muscle. I looked at 36 Secundus. “But if you do, it would be just as well to turn it upon yourself, because this ship will become your tomb. When these women do not show up their people are going to be asking questions. So will Corbulo when his supply ship does not arrive.”

  “He is in the middle of nowhere!” shouted one.

  “And what about them?” I said, gesturing to the retreating pirates. Only their sails were now visible over the horizon.

  “They should reach port by tonight,” I continued, “They will have a story to tell. About a Roman warship in the Aegean that was taken by slaves. Everybody in the East loves to hear stories of Roman defeats, big or small. So it will spread like a wildfire throughout the Eastern Provinces. Within a week Minstrels from here to Mesopotamia will be singing about on every street corner.

  “Within a few weeks, maybe less, the story will reach the trade routes. And all roads lead to Rome, my friends. When the Navy hears about us they will know which ship is being spoken of and they will come for us with everything they have got. Did we do all this just to be crucified?”

  “What are we supposed to do?” shouted one.

  “We can all be crucified,” I replied. “Or we can organize ourselves into a crew and get the hell out of here!”

  The rest of our company had come forward to hear. I had not realized it, but the sun was at my back. They could not see my face, only a voice booming down on them from the bright glare above.

  “The way I figure it,” I continued, “We have a day before anybody knows we are here. That means we have to get out of these waters today. We can only manage that if we get the ship into full operation above and below decks.

  “Rome is all around us. In every port west of here. All around the Mediterranean and Northern Africa.”

  “There are ports to the East the Romans do not control!” Shouted 36 Secundus.

  “And how would you suggest we approach them in a Roman warship?” I asked. “A war galley like this stands out wherever it goes, friendly or not. This ship is no longer just a prison, it is our burden. We are surrounded by enemies on all sides in a ship that is bigger than anything else on the sea! There are no masters to take care of us now, no crew to man the ship. Only us. We have to function like a crew on a mission.”

  “What mission?” the Nubian asked.

  “To sail this ship to freedom!” I replied.

  “In the Captain’s chartroom there are detailed maps of the entire world. A disciplined crew could sail this ship beyond Roman hands to either a neutral port or a natural inlet. It shouldn’t be too difficult for us to organize ourselves.

  “The only people in the whole world right now that are not out for your blood are the other people on this ship. Since we are all in this together it should not be too hard for us to trust each other. But we will not have that chance if we get off on the wrong foot.”

  The ship was now still except for my voice. It seemed to amplify across the surface of the sea and come back.

  “Have you forgotten what the penalty is for what we have done? We are now slaves in rebellion as well as mutineers. There is no reprieve for men like us! No going back!”

  “How can we organize?” asked 36 Secundus.

  “We can begin right now by withholding our names.” I replied.

  “We should keep our numbers as we have before. Nobody was asked his name when he came aboard. It is the one secret that each of us has. A measure of security that makes it impossible for us to betray each other!”

  “What do you mean?” asked the Briton.

  “If any of us were captured,” I explained, “He could not identify any other man aboard this ship. None of us have names. What would the Empire do to your families in reprisal if they knew who you were? But as things stand now, if I was captured and put to the Question, I could only reveal your numbers. Your identities and your families would be safe!” This touched off a murmur among the men.

  “Then we should continue to use our numbers and keep our real names to ourselves.” said 53.

  “What difference does it make?” asked 36 Secundus. “If we are all condemned, as you say, why should we not do as we please with these women?”

  “It makes all the difference in the world to us,” I replied. “It is a matter of discipline. The discipline to withhold our names. The discipline to organize ourselves into a crew. The discipline to work for the common good of us all. The discipline to share-and-share-alike.

  “This is a warship and warships run on discipline. These women are passengers, to harm them would not only make us criminals but it would cost us precious discipline. It would also cost time, and that is the one thing that is too precious to waste now. Every minute that passes is a minute lost. We need to run this ship efficiently. She and her Bondwoman are passengers. The crew of a good ship does not molest its paying customers.”

  This drew a good laugh from the men.

  “We must conduct ourselves like professionals on this ship. You all remember the speed trials?” I said. “We have the fastest ship in the world and we know what it is capable of. If we have to sail against the best, we have to be up to it. Because we may have to fight in the course of our escape.” This was greeted by silence. I did not know what it meant.

  “For the first time since we were marched here,” I said, “We have a choice. We can be men again! We can take this ship and sail it beyond the reach of Rome. But only if we can discipline ourselves! With that discipline, we have the power to save ourselves. Without it, we will all die right here.

  “Brothers, all we have now, is this ship…and each other!”

  Suddenly, the crowd exploded with an enthusiastic cheer. I hardly knew what I was saying. That quartet of my closest friends, the Nubian, the Greek, the Briton and the Chinese jumped up beside me. Others rushed to join them. Soon the top of the forecastle was so crowded with men I could hardly keep my feet. Before I knew what was happening, 53 cried out: “We will keep our numbers until we are free!”

  “Long live The Brotherhood!” shouted another.

  “We must choose a leader. Who shall it be?” 53 shouted.

  The Briton threw his arms around me and hugged me so hard that I almost fainted. He shouted: “Who is for 52?” The men cried my number so loudly that the entire ship shook with the sound.

  My comrades hoisted me upon their shoulders and began to march me around on deck, all the time chanting: “52! 52! 52!” I could hear my number booming out over the open sea upon the wind. It was all happening so fast I could hardly believe it.

  What had I done? Two hours earlier, I was staring at a loose hook, smelling stale vomit and fearing that I would end up with my guts on a rusty knife. Now I was the leader of a slave rebellion at sea!

  Truly I was Dest
iny’s biggest Fool! As the men carried me, some even touching me like a god, I could not help thinking that I should have kept my mouth shut. But it was too late.

  Antonia had a New Master.

  17

  THE BURDEN

  There was much to do and as soon as the celebrations settled down, we set out to establish some organization onboard the ship. The decks of Antonia were covered with dead. For the sake of health and decency they had to be removed. There were injured among our company and they required treatment. The state of the ship had to be taken into consideration, from the status of battle damage, to the amount of food and supplies in store. These had to be inventoried and their distribution placed under control.

  There was also the critical issue of security onboard. We had rebelled against the authority of the Romans, now we had to establish our own for the sake of survival. A counting of heads was needed, along with a general assessment of the men’s abilities. If we were going to figure out a course of action, we would need to know what we were capable of. My first task was to assign duties to the men. Those who could handle a ship were to take control of its operation and train the others to do the same. All aboard a ship at sea must know what to do in a given situation, as well as how everything onboard works. This is the custom aboard all seagoing ships and it is a good one.

  For my Second in command, I could think of no one better than my bench-mate. He was a natural leader and I felt the men would respect him as much as I did. He set about the duty of clearing the decks and organizing work details. For my Second Mate, the Briton was the logical choice. He was not only the strongest man among us he was also the most reliable. A man of his word. When he told you something, you could rely on it as fact, without question. He was placed in charge of security and discipline, for no one doubted he would rule with a fair hand.

  The Greek was placed in charge of stores and supply; he had a quick mind and a likable nature that made him the kind of man who could say ‘no’ and be accepted. Number 44, a Judean from Tyros, was placed in charge of ship’s maintenance and damage control. He had been a shipwright for over forty years and he knew his business. Other responsibilities were doled out and the men set to work. The sooner they did the more certain it would be that the New Order would stick.

  One of the more unexpected items to come up was the subject of numbers. Several suggested that there should only be one 52 and it was accepted unanimously. There were also several men who asked for their numbers to be changed. Both 13 Primus and Secundus approached me and asked for number reassignment. Another, 6 Secundus, asked that his number be changed because he “Simply did not like it.” 6 Secundus was the smallest of all the slaves on Antonia, standing only about four feet tall with a mane of scruffy brown hair. He was nonetheless a very stout young man and altogether quite cheerful to have around. I told him that we did not have numbers to juggle around and he suggested: “302”

  “Why 302? I asked him.

  “It has a much more impressive sound.” he replied.

  My immediate task was the women. They had been locked up in the forecastle and sequestered from the events above. I knew they had to be frightened and very worried about their fate. They had managed to block the door somehow so it could not be opened. I put the smith to work at opening it but insisted that nobody go inside to avoid frightening them any worse. When he was ready to open the door I joined him. 93 offered me a sword but I turned it down. That would be the wrong approach.

  Once I collected my thoughts, I gestured for him to open it. The door swung open, letting the brightness of the sun in. I entered slowly and quietly. The women had only a lamp and one window to the world. The Lady shaded her eyes from the blinding light. Holding a sword in her hand, she and her servant pressed themselves into a corner of the room.

  I was silhouetted against the brightness outside as I entered. The Lady raised her sword and stared at me suspiciously. I stopped just inside the doorway and bowed respectfully.

  “I have come to inform you that we have taken the ship, Lady.” I said.

  There was a very long pause that made me feel strangely self-conscious of the fact that I stood before her almost naked and in rags. I could not guess what she was thinking about me but it made me feel like a pretentious fool. She remained tense as she asked, “Where is the Captain?”

  I did not wish to alarm her, so I tried to answer her question without coming right out and telling her he was dead.

  “The pirates are gone and Roman crew is no longer aboard,” I said, “The slaves have taken the ship.”

  There was another long pause at this point, I was not sure what to make of her reaction. If she was frightened by me she did not make a great show of it. As a matter of fact, she seemed quite brave under the circumstances. I was also impressed at the way she shielded her servant instead of the other way around. She had character and I liked it.

  “What are you going to do now?” she asked. I took a step closer, but she turned her sword toward me and I stopped.

  “We are turning south, ma’am,” I replied, “The men have asked me to inform you that no harm will come to you or your servant. We have struck a compact on that and every man onboard has sworn to honor it.” She was a little surprised by this, I think.

  “You may go wherever you want on the ship,” I continued, “As long as you agree not to interfere with the men or its operations. If you have any personal requirements, you have only to state them.” Her expression softened somewhat, but she did not lower her sword.

  “Am I to understand,” she asked, “That we are now your prisoners?”

  “We would prefer that you think of yourselves as honored guests,” I answered, “You are a passenger on this ship and, although we are not going to your destination anymore, your status as a passenger has not changed.”

  Her servant seemed very suspicious of what I was saying. She came out from behind her lady and looked me over. Calpurnia pulled her back and lowered her sword. She stood, slender and defiant, and looked right through me. It made me feel even more naked than before. For the first time on Antonia, I felt embarrassed by my appearance.

  “Do I have your word on that?” she asked.

  “You have my word as Master of this ship.” Her eyes widened and she looked at me, still skeptical.

  “If I asked you to leave us now,” she asked, “Would you do so?”

  “I believe I have already answered that question, Lady.” I replied. She glanced at her servant and back to me.

  “Thank you! We would prefer to be alone at the moment.” she answered, curtly. I bowed without a word and turned for the door.

  “Just a minute, Captain.” she said.

  I stopped. For a moment, I was puzzled by the title she addressed me with, half expecting to see the Captain at the window. Realizing she meant me, I turned back toward her. Her expression softened. I think she finally believed what I was telling her.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  “We are galley slaves, ma’am. We have no names. I am Number 52.” I bowed and turned again, leaving her and her servant as I found them. I closed the door behind me.

  After I left, Calpurnia laid the sword aside and sat down, puzzled by what had just taken place. “Well,” she said, “It seems there has been a change of plans, Sarah.” Sarah took her hands and sat beside her. She was still very worried.

  “You do not believe what he said?” she asked. “We probably will be dead before tomorrow, Lady.” Calpurnia smiled and placed her hands on Sarah’s shoulders.

  “There are three hundred men on this ship,” she replied, “We are in their hands!”

  Sarah shook her head. “They are all condemned men,” she reminded, “There is nowhere they can go. They can only take us to disaster. That is where we are going!”

  Calpurnia got up and moved to the door, she opened it a crack and looked outside. Something was turning in her mind. She was not as displeased at the turn of events as I had expected her to be.


  “I do not know where we are going.” she said.

  “This Number 52 is an interesting man.” said Sarah.

  “Yes,” Calpurnia replied. “Number 52 is an interesting man! We shall have to wait and see, Sarah.”

  When I returned to the main deck, my cohorts had already cleared it of dead. I watched the tall Nubian as he organized the aft crew. He knew more about ships than he had led me to believe. Like I said before, he never ceased to surprise me. For the next hour I moved about the decks showing men how to perform tasks and checking knots and riggings. I decided that my next step should be to figure out where we were, and where that was in relation to the sea lanes.

  I entered the cabin of our late captain, for here would be his charts.

  It was as neat and austere as he was which did not surprise me. The cabin was not large, but quite adequate for a ships’ master. On the far wall in a cabinet were his charts. They were neatly arranged in order of the compass. As I approached them I noticed something else sitting on top of the cabinet. A mirror. Curiously, I looked into it.

  I was greeted with a terrible shock. Two blood-stained orbs looked back at me from a death mask of pale flesh stretched over a skull. The hair was matted and uncut. When last I looked at this face the vestiges of my boyhood still caressed every curve and line. Now, all traces of youth had gone. It had only been a few months since I had last seen it. But it seemed as if ages were written into my face.

  I felt a cold resentment rise in me as I looked at this stranger. Not for what my warders had done to me but because of what I had done to myself. Because of them, I hated the land of my forefathers and all it stood for. I could never forgive them for that. All consideration for the dead crew of Antonia passed from my mind. I decided not to think of it anymore.