The Galley

by Paul Howard

  “I am very sorry to hear that,” Mikonalas replied, “I trust your casualties were not too severe. The smelter would explain the smoke we had heard of.”

  “We were not aware that pirates were as bad as that in these waters.” said Patos.

  “We sailed here from some ways off” I answered.

  “May I ask from where?” he asked.

  “I am afraid not,” I said, “We are under Imperial orders and not at liberty to discuss our mission in detail.”

  “And the military exercises are just drills?” he asked.

  “Precisely,” I answered, “I would be a poor commander if I allowed my men to go soft during our stay here. After all, I am sure you can appreciate that we are not on pleasure cruise.”

  “Of course,” he smiled, “What about these explosions we have heard about?”

  I decided this was a good time to cut off further inquiry and follow the advice of my old bench-mate. “As I said before,” I replied, “We under Imperial orders. I cannot discuss that except to offer assurance that there is no danger to you or your people.”

  I decided to turn the conversation away from questions about us and shifted the emphasis to his island, the local people and anything else but what we were doing there. The conversation continued for over an hour and I made sure their cups never got empty. Even so, it was touchy at times. Mikonalas was a shrewd man and used a clever mix of flattery and seemingly innocent curiosity to squeeze as much information as he could out of me. Fortunately I recognized the tactic from my business dealings in Rome and it soon became apparent to him, as well as his friends, that there was little to be gained by prolonging the conversation.

  Although he was polite and amiable I could sense his frustration. Finally he took the plunge and asked what he had really come for.

  “You will forgive me Captain,” he said, “But there have been stories about a slave rebellion on a Roman galley in the Aegean. It has been said that they captured the ship and overthrew the crew. You would not know anything about that, would you?”

  It is a good thing they weren’t looking at 17 because he turned pale as a ghost when he heard this. I half expected him to rap the klaxon again and end the meeting abruptly but his good judgment prevailed. 53’s expression never changed at all. I smiled.

  “I think I can help you there,” I answered, “We are that ship! Of course, rumors tend to be more fancy than fact. The actual story is that the slaves got loose, killed the franchise operators and set the ship ablaze. But we put them down and order was restored. Now, you three are the only civilians who know the truth about that!”

  Mikonalas and Simonades looked at each other and smiled, knowingly.

  “You would not object then,” Patos asked, “If I asked you to show me your right shoulder!”

  53’s eyes widened with anger and he stepped forward and raised his lance. I grinned and held up my hand for him to stop.

  “You may look at both of my shoulders if you like!” I said, pulling up the sleeve of my tunic to reveal a beautiful, bare shoulder with no marks or branding. The three guests looked at my shoulders and their manner became somewhat awkward and sheepish after that. So much so, in fact, that it was only minutes before they returned to their boat and headed back to their ship. I think that is the only time I was glad that I had been branded on the rump. If they had asked anybody else but me we would have had a problem.

  The afternoon was turning orange as their sail moved back toward the horizon and my comrades breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You all did very well!” I told them.

  “You did not do badly yourself,” said the Greek, “When he told the rebellion story I thought we were sunk!”

  “Do you think they believed us?” asked 53.

  I watched the sail move away and thought about his question. The thought of the walls closing in began to ring in my head like a loud bell going off. We were running out of time and I needed to make my decision quickly or take the risk of being caught helpless in dry-dock. The story had caught up with us and every day we stayed would increase the chances of Roman sails appearing on the horizon with more than curiosity on their minds. Fate would now be in command of our future. The dream was going to come true. One way or another.

  “Muster the men,” I ordered, “Secure the Stinker and get ready to load all supplies and ordinance aboard the ship. Order all crews to their stations and make ready to put to sea. We leave on tomorrow’s high tide.”

  53’s facial expression turned very grave. “Where to?” he asked. I looked deep into the faces of my two comrades and finally uttered the word I had dreaded to say for weeks:

  “Gibraltar!”

  From that moment on, the beach was a flurry of activity. Over the hill, the Stinker was being dismantled and supplies were moving onto the ship. I supervised the effort to prepare the ship for launching the following day. Although we tended the jacks and lines carefully to prevent Antonia from settling in every day, she had still accumulated sandy silts along her keel which had to be cleared. Planking and skids had to be set and tow lines had to be strung, checked, and re-checked for launch. This was a very big lady and getting her fully re-floated after all these weeks would be a challenge.

  We worked all night long and there was plenty for all to do. Sarah kept a pot of strong tea brewing and Calpurnia organized hot stimulants and walking meals for everybody. I was amazed at the resourceful things she came up with to eat while working. Some of them were so good, in fact, that I thought of how my father would have loved to get hold of some of her recipes to sell at public events.

  One in particular was a hand-tossed flatbread pie with meat, cheese, and tomato which she said originated from Neopolis. The men loved it. So much, in fact, that she had to promise she would make it again in the future. “Flat Pie”, as we came to call it, became a staple on Antonia and there seemed to be no end of toppings she and Sarah kept coming up with. All were delicious. My father could have made another fortune with it if he had the recipe.

  As the first light of dawn came up in the east, my officers called upon me to join them for a meeting they felt was of the utmost importance. Not knowing what it would be about, I felt a sense of trepidation about it. The unexpected on this voyage always seemed to be either staggering or just plain frightening.

  As I arrived at my quarters they were assembled around my table with grim expressions on their faces. I was right. It was going to something bad. When I entered they rose and I bade them to sit down. I sat across from them at the head of the table and folded my arms in front of me.

  “What is it that your wish, gentlemen?” I asked.

  They looked at each other as if unsure who should speak first. Finally, my bench-mate broke the silence. “We wish to discuss the situation with Gracchus, sir,” he said, “We would like to know what your intentions are concerning him.”

  I had not given the problem sufficient thought and the expressions on their faces made me realize that I needed to do so and quickly.

  “Is it your intention to bring him with us, Captain?” asked the Greek.

  “I had considered it.” I replied.

  “Then, I ask you to reconsider,” he said, “I cannot think of any practical purpose he could be to us at sea, but I can certainly think of the risk. And that is a risk we cannot afford to take!”

  “He betrayed the Romans to the pirates, sabotaged our water supplies. Forced us to land here. He set fire to the ship, and murdered several of our men.” said Number 93.

  “He also kidnapped and raped Sarah when we got here,” said the Briton, “He is no friend to any of us! And he is dangerous.”

  “Think of what could happen if he got loose,” declared the Greek, “He is a bastard but he is also clever. Once at sea he could scuttle this ship and crew.”

  “At the expense of his own life!” I added.

  “That may not matter to him now,” 53 said, “He has nothing to lose and he might try something and hope to get lucky.”<
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  “We will be carrying enough explosive powder stores to blow up twenty ships,” added the Greek, “All he has to do is start a fire and create an eruption that could be seen for fifty miles!”

  “In addition to that,” suggested Number 127, “He is the worst enemy these men have in the world.”

  “I think that honor goes to the Emperor!” I replied.

  “Nero is a long way off,” said 53, “Gracchus is right here among us. The men will resent it if he comes along.”

  I thought about this carefully. They were right and I told them so.

  “What do you propose?” I asked. My bench-mate drew his sword and stared at me.

  “That is easily answered, Captain.” he said. I shook my head in disagreement. I would have had no issue with killing him the morning we had arrived. We were all angry enough to kill him and I would have gladly turned him over to the men. But the situation was different now. This would be cold-blooded murder. I did not like the tone it would set, even though I believed Gracchus truly deserved death.

  “This ship is now under military command,” I answered, “We do not have time for a trial.”

  “Summary execution is still within military protocol, Captain.” 53 replied.

  “I know that,” I said, “But what of our word to Sarah?”

  “I respect the lady as much as you do, sir,” said 53, “But there are hundreds of lives at stake here.”

  “Maybe much more than that.” said the Greek.

  I realized that I was in a corner. If I held out it could be taken as squeamish weakness by my comrades. The truth was: I did feel squeamish about it. The thought of 53 going down into the ship and slicing Gracchus up in cold-blood disturbed me. I decided I would not let that happen. I had to find a way.

  “No,” I answered slowly, “I gave Sarah my word. The oath of a ship’s Captain cannot be broken! Besides…” I turned to 127. “Are you going to tell Sarah you broke our promise to her?”

  “I will risk it!” said the Briton.

  “No,” I replied, “You shall not!”

  My fellows looked at me unhappily. “We are not murderers,” I said. “As much as I would like for him to die, there is another way! He cannot come with us, so we shall maroon him here on this island!”

  My officers began to speak all at once in protest.

  “Be silent!” I demanded. They stopped at stared at me. “This island is very remote,” I said, “Even if he can build or steal a boat, it would be impossible for him to interfere with our plans. Before he could reach any Roman authorities we would be well out of these waters, and this ship is more than fast enough to reach its destination before the fleet could do anything about us!”

  I smiled. “Besides,” I added, “It will be delightful to see the look on his face as his former slaves take the gold he wants so much and leaves him stranded here in the middle of nowhere!” They were not amused.

  “We should kill him, Captain!” snapped the Briton.

  “The subject is closed,” I said, “Return to your posts. There is much yet to be done!” They rose and slowly moved out of the door. Number 53 remained behind and looked at me sternly.

  “What is on your mind?” I asked.

  “This is a mistake, Little Roman!” he answered, sharply.

  “I am right,” I replied, “He is effectively stranded when we leave him here.”

  “I did not mean that,” he said. “Your unwillingness to kill him can be interpreted as a sign of weakness by the crew. I do not even understand it myself!” I put my hand on his shoulder.

  “Would you go down there and kill him in his chains?” I asked.

  “I would, without hesitation!” he answered.

  “That is why I will not allow it,” I replied, “You are better than that! I think we all are. Do you remember the Gaul? That terrible night in Rhodes when we had to listen to those groans? I want no more killings aboard this ship.”

  “You think too much, Little Roman,” he said softly, “It will be your undoing.”

  “Perhaps,” I smiled, “But not on this voyage. I can think of a million things that may kill me before this is over. The crew is not one of them.”

  24

  BACK TO SEA

  The remainder of the morning was spent on preparations for the launch out of the harbor. I was deeply concerned, as was the shipwright, that we had not kept enough water under the ship to keep her free of these sandy shoals. At low tide it was easily only up to the knees when wading out to her and there was enough contact to hold her from the tides. This was a semi-dry-dock and they are always tricky, especially when done for more than a day or so. If we could not break her out at high tide we never would and the shipwright expressed doubts about our chances. He had expressed them before during our stay and we had made inspections every day. I did my best to tell him we were alright but inwardly I had doubts of my own. More of her keel was touching than I would have wished.

  Shortly before midday the ordinance came out of the Stinker to be loaded upon the ship. A special detail had been organized for that purpose. All non-essential personnel were told to clear the beach approaches to the ship and all members of the detail were instructed to remove all metal from their persons before handling any of the explosives. The Chinese stayed on the beach monitoring the wind very closely.

  “We must make sure that winds are calm when we do this,” he explained, “Wind gusts can induce static in the air and we must avoid sparks of any kind.”

  The men on the detail were even instructed on how to walk, making certain to avoid dragging their feet through the sand, as even this could cause static discharges. We stood at a safe distance as we watched the party move out carefully with the ordinance. The cannon, torpedoes and fire mines were wrapped carefully in oiled skins. I could see the tip of one of the tiny boats just peeking out of one of the carefully wrapped parcels as they brought it aboard. The men moved in a single file across the beach with their parcels as they had instructions to keep a respectable distance from each other to avoid any hand-to-hand contact.

  As I watched this sober spectacle moving aboard Antonia, the full impact of what we were truly carrying pressed down upon me. No wonder the Greek had suggested such concern about Gracchus or any uncontrolled fire aboard ship. I suddenly remembered his warning about an explosion that could be visible for fifty miles.

  It was at that moment that he and another moved across the beach with “the Apparatus”. I had never seen the finished assembly before and it was a very curious thing to look at. It was perfectly round and about a foot thick, although it, too, was covered in oiled cloth. I saw a hint of gold near the lower edge. They moved up the gang with it very carefully.

  After the detail entered the ship, it was more than an hour and a half before any of them emerged back down the gang. Finally, a half hour after that, the inventors emerged from the ship and gave us leave to resume our preparations for launch. Not a moment too soon, for the tide had already begun to rise.

  We deployed the crews as planned. Fifteen men were positioned at the prow with pry-poles and boards. A skeleton crew of sixty men was put at the oars. Two dozen were positioned up top with push poles, although I thought they might prove useless in the sand. Everybody else was put at the pull ropes.

  Finally, a small detail was sent aboard to escort Gracchus to the beach. They emerged with him a few minutes later and he was brought out onto the sand. I stood on the beach fifty feet away from him, along with the shipwright, to direct the launch. I was just about to give the signal to the mallet men to knock the jacks out from under the keel when a familiar voice interrupted.

  “So, I am to be marooned here, is that it?” Gracchus sneered from behind. I looked over my shoulder and answered, “Yes, Gracchus. You will remain here!” As I looked over my shoulder I noticed that the islanders had shown up at last. Covering the dunes on the horizon, they watched us with curiosity. I turned back to the crews and gave the sign to the mallet men. They swung their ham
mers and the jacks broke loose with reluctance. Almost instantly, Antonia heeled to port and showed no sign of buoyancy, as I had feared. The shipwright began to bark orders to the launch crews in an instant. Every second now counted. If she settled in, we were done for. The push and pry crew labored mightily, but Antonia did not yield.

  The push poles proved just as useless as I thought they would, merely pushing the sand aside and sinking in. Realizing this, I ordered them overboard to assist the towing crews. The tide was now near it’s’ height and Antonia still did not budge.

  “Use the tide,” I yelled, “Pull with the outgoing waves!”

  The men labored with all their strength. But nothing happened. “Get the oarsmen off,” I ordered, “Put them on the lines! Everyone pull on my order!” I watched the waves come in and waited for the outgoing tide.

  “Pull!” I yelled.

  They did as ordered, many of them losing their feet in the sand. The oarsmen quickly scrambled to help and soon the men on the lines were doubled up. By now everyone, including the women, were on the lines.

  “Pull!” I repeated on the next cycle. Antonia held firm but a soft groan came from within her bowels. One of the lines on starboard snapped and the men on her went flying back into the sea. The shipwright dashed to the line and fished for the loose end, hastily restoring the line with a stout knot before the next cycle. I noticed the three men guarding Gracchus and directed two of them to join the effort. They ran into the sea and joined the others. The tide came in again.

  “Pull!” I shouted again and all labored as one. Suddenly a loud groan and scraping sound tore at the air and the ship finally shifted to starboard.

  “Harder,” I demanded, “Harder!”

  The party pulled as one, red faced, blood-stained ropes and all. An even louder groan erupted from Antonia and she shifted again, this time her mast went almost straight up in the air. As they pulled harder she began to slide away into the sea. We had done it. She was now fully afloat. I told them to keep pulling to prevent the tide from pulling her back to shore, which it almost did. Refusing to let this happen, the crew continued to tug her until they could no longer tread the ground. After more effort they had succeeded at putting her at sea at last. She bobbed with the motions of the sea, obediently awaiting our demands of her.