The Galley

by Paul Howard

  By evening meal it was time for our meeting with the Greek who explained the improved arming procedure for the torpedoes and the sailing measures required to make best use of them. A balance of acceleration, stopping and slowing at the right times to draw the enemy close and break away out of his range. We had already seen what that could do against the other ships we had fought although the Septimus vessels would prove much faster and the timing would have to be more precise.

  The trickiest maneuver would be the deployment of the apparatus. This involved the use of two different smoke devices they had constructed whose whole purpose would be to draw as many ships into the trap in very close proximity to each other.

  “Without achieving this,” the Greek warned, “The apparatus would just make a big noise for no purpose.” The first smoker will give the appearance of a fire onboard our ship. A full stop. The show of fire crews unable to contain it would draw the enemy phalanx to concentrate all of its ships upon us for the kill. Once they had committed to this action the secondary smoke devices would be used to lay out a tremendous smoke cloud over a very large area.

  “It is an old tactic,” added the Greek, “We have been making these smoke screens for years. Depending on the wind, a screen of this kind can last for several minutes. As soon as we light the smokers we take off at attack speed and put as much distance as we can between us and them.”

  “What about the apparatus?” I asked.

  “It will be armed and lowered to the sea as soon as we set the smokers,” he replied, “As I explained before, the enemy will have to be tricked into detonating it for us.”

  “How will you do that?” Primus asked. The Greek uncovered the finished apparatus for us to see. It was as I described it before. Finished in white enamel and trimmed in pure gold like a treasure box.

  “None of the timing fuse designs we know of would work on the open sea,” he said, “So an inverted plunger fuse is attached to the top which will close the circuit when opened. To help them find it we will use this!” He held up a triangular piece of gold and dangled it between his fingers.

  “It will be attached to the box like a broken latch that dangles like this,” he said, swinging it back and forth. “It will serve as a bell.” he added, and struck it with his finger, which produced a pure ringing sound.

  “It can be heard for half a mile over the open sea,” he said, “On a clear day…”

  I suddenly shuddered when he spoke these words, for they were exactly what the Fisherman had said in my dream! My comrades looked at me concerned and noticed the color had gone from my cheeks. They asked what was wrong.

  “Nothing.” was my reply.

  “Once the device is set,” the Greek continued, “We must get away until we can hear the bell no longer. At least half a mile away, I should think. Farther if possible, the farther the better.”

  Primus eyes widened with disbelief. “You cannot be serious!” he exclaimed.

  “I am perfectly serious,” replied the Greek, “If we are within half a mile when it goes off we will not even feel what hits us. This weapon will produce heat unlike anything of this earth. You cannot imagine such heat. Lava is cool by comparison. The shock alone from the inverse wave would pulverize us to dust…if it works.”

  “You have doubts about it working?” I asked.

  “About the device, no,” he said, “But there are other factors. A rough sea might topple it and water-log the powder. The enemy may miss it entirely during the confusion of battle. There are just too many variables to be certain of the outcome. There might be a detail we have missed; even a minute flaw in the sealing could result in failure. If so, nothing will happen.”

  “And if not?” Primus asked. The faces of the inventors grew very grave.

  “If not,” replied the Greek, slowly, “You will see something more frightening than anything you could ever imagine.”

  As Primus and I departed from the meeting and moved back up top the silence hung between us as it never had before. I could hear the wheels turning in his head but I could not read his thoughts. As we stepped out into the crisp night air the sky was strewn with the Milky Way sparkling over the horizon. It was now autumn and Orion could be seen just rising. I gestured for him to join me at the stern. We walked over to it and leaned upon the rail. The sea was very calm with only the wash from our wake to be seen dredging up the soft green glow from Neptune’s depths. The stars reflected in the motions of the water danced and swam in it. We stood there for some time in silence. I decided to wait him out.

  “I had never really thought about it,” he said at length, “Up until now, it all just fell into place, as if by unlikely chance. I have seen many things and done many things, including war. But when I think about that box we are carrying I am suddenly frightened.” I turned toward him slowly. I was surprised to hear him say these things but did not show it.

  “I cannot imagine what it will do.” he said.

  “To tell the truth,” I admitted, “Neither can I, even though he has explained it to me several times already. I simply cannot imagine it.”

  “You were way ahead of me,” he declared, “That night after we sank the warships you said it all. But I was so caught up in what we had done that I did not understand what you meant. Now that we are so close, I begin to realize what this ship and its crew have become. I am truly frightened by it.”

  “Why?” I asked. He looked back across the sea, as if seeing a thousand miles away.

  “Imagine a whole world of ships like this one,” he said softly, “What would it be like? How would people live? Would it be a world of constant war or peace?”

  “Maybe a little of both.” I suggested.

  “Perhaps, Little Roman,” he replied, “Or maybe war would be so terrible that men made peace in fear of it. But they would have to be different men than us. Men have always feared war but that has never stopped them from making it. I wonder if they ever will.”

  “Probably not,” I said, “People do not change. They never have.” He turned back toward me and frowned.

  “Not even us?” he asked.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, “Are we any different than those who await us?”

  “No,” he said, “We just have better weapons, that is all.”

  “No, that is not all,” I reminded him, “We have a better reason.” He looked at me and smiled.

  “Little Roman,” he sighed, “That is what every army that has ever taken to field has said. No matter whom they were or what they were, they were always on the side ‘right’. But we cannot all be right, can we?” He smiled, touched my arm and moved forward without another word. I moved back to my cabin in silence.

  The last day saw Antonia busy above and below decks as final drills and preparations were made. Below, the Briton and his men preened their arrows and checked their bows before going up top to rehearse their deployment and coordinate their shooting drills. The armorers were busy with their munitions; Sarah was setting up her infirmary. Primus and Secundus were making ready all riggings and crews for battle. I was below in the gallery practicing the sailing drills with the new Hortator and men.

  The tone on Antonia had changed from the previous day. The tension gave way to song, fellowship and concentration to the task at hand. No man expressed doubt, the arguments had ceased. Each part of the crew seemed to take on a life of its own, with each man knowing what would be expected of him and prepared to do it. It was inspiring to be part of it. Even I had shed all thoughts and fears of failure and death.

  That was the enemy’s problem, not ours. Such is the way that an army prepares for war. We were ready for whatever came, at least in our hearts.

  Lookouts had been positioned aloft since morning with eyes peeled to the horizon. Gulls had been sighted overhead and increased in number as the day progressed. We would be smelling land before long, which meant that we were now moving back into the sea-lanes and had to be ready for anything we would encounter. We sighted no ships that d
ay at all, which was not strange for where we were at that time of year.

  By evening, Antonia was ready for all but the last minute preparations of battle. At my order, a feast was held below for all hands in the gallery. Except for Secundus, who was in command, and the sailing crews up top. The gallery was bedecked in bright colors and a sumptuous feast was prepared. Calpurnia wore the same fine gown she had worn that first day I saw her. If she looked like a goddess to me that first day, she now seemed more beautiful than Venus Herself. At my insistence, she sat by my side the whole time. She who had done for others so many times since our revolt was now to be treated like a queen, for surely she was. She held my hand most of the time.

  Sarah also was to do no labor this night; she who had waited upon so many was now to be served by others. She sat next to the Briton, often arm-in-arm. It was a feast of revelry and song. With wine, but not too much. We needed no hangovers to slow the foot on the morrow and all agreed. The Greek recited from Vulcan. The Chinese sang us songs from his native land in that strange, liquid tongue of his people.

  There was much laughter. Throughout the revelry, only Primus did not partake, not so much out of a lack of cheer, but with one ear poised for the conch which never blew.

  As the evening drew to a close, several of the men presented gifts to the Ladies and officers. Humble they were, but heartfelt. We slowly dispersed to our beds and I escorted Calpurnia to our cabin. I sent Primus below and took the last walk up top for myself. Letting the cold air fill my hair and sting my ears. I could sense just the hint of land upon the night air. We were drawing close now.

  After my inspection I set the watches and returned to my cabin, where Calpurnia sat waiting for me still dressed in her gown. I had never seen her look so lovely. Her skin glowed in the soft, yellow light of the lamp.

  “I thought you would be asleep.” I said.

  “Not without you, my Lord.” she replied. She rose and placed her arms about me, resting her head upon my shoulder. “When I first stepped aboard this ship,” she said softly, “I thought my happiness was all but over.”

  “When you first came aboard,” I confessed, “I was only a slave. I thought I was looking at an angel I was not even worthy to look upon.” She looked into my eyes. Her face was so gentle.

  “You were always worthy of me,” she whispered, “When you took this ship, it was I who was set free. Even if I die tomorrow, I could never be happier than I am tonight.”

  “Do not speak of that…” I said and she put her finger to my lips.

  “I am truly happy.” she said softly, her eyes sparkled as I had never seen them before. They filled my heart with emotions more tender than I can hope to describe.

  “And I am happy enough for a whole lifetime.” I replied. We kissed. The sweet taste of her intoxicated me like no wine ever could and we moved gently to my bed. I cannot say whether the time we made love was long or short. But it was the sweetest moment of love I had ever felt. When it ended, the morning was upon us.

  I had just fallen to sleep when the call came from above: “Land Ho!!”

  The words cut through my sleep and brought me to full awakening. Before I could arise from my bunk the sound of footsteps thundered throughout the entire length of Antonia. I quickly donned my gown and rushed outside. In the brilliance that struck my eyes I moved to the bow and squinted for the horizon. The top of the Great Rock was just beginning to peer over it. I gave the order to strike sail and drop the sea anchor. Antonia slowed to a stop within minutes. I did not even have to look to know that Primus was at my shoulder. Our journey had ended. The thing was upon us at last.

  29

  THE SIGN

  Before returning to my cabin to dress the order was given to serve morning meal, starting with the oarsmen. Porridge with shaved apple was to be their meal, being a light but substantial fare that was easy on the digestion and would not cause cramps during battle. We would need them to row without cramping for speed all the more since the sea at the strait is usually rough.

  We were out of sighting range of the fleet but we had to prepare as if they were there anyway. Once we sighted each other the game would quickly be on. The armorers set to work on weapons and fire crews made ready with casks of wine and vinegar to repel any fires. Our final preparations would take at least another hour and the wind was already falling.

  There would be no speeches or explanations for now it was time get things done instead of talk about them. After dressing I joined the helm and went over my instructions with him once more. The hour passed quickly and it was now time for the final ritual. The sea was like glass. As smooth as I had ever seen it, and there was now almost no wind at all. I had considered the possibility of hitting the strait at full speed and simply blowing past the fleet many times during our journey. But now without a wind that was out of the question. If we advanced and found the fleet at the strait there would be no course but to fight.

  I took my place upon the bridge and addressed the crew one last time. “You all know what we are here for,” I began, “You now have fifteen minutes to prepare yourselves and make peace with whatever deity you choose. It has been an honor to serve as your commander. May the gods favor this ship and good hunting to us all!”

  I left the bridge and made myself available to any who needed my ear as is the custom at this time.

  Since time immortal, the battle ritual has been an important last step for men in our position. Prior to this, we had been suddenly thrust into conflict but now it was a pitched battle of our own choosing. A few had things they wanted to say to me but this time really belonged to the men. A tapestry of prayers and rituals were performed over the length of Antonia as men sang the Death Songs of the forefathers, made sacrifices and dressed in their colors of war. The Briton trimmed his beard in thick blue paint. Primus donned a feathered helm and painted his cheeks a deep red. The Chinese uttered prayers and made signs. The smell of incense was everywhere.

  I am not a religious man. As the soft, strange prayers of the men rose over the ship I moved to the bow and looked across the expanse of sea that stretched before us. Suddenly feeling alone, my mind turned, once again, to the Fisherman who had shared my journey in dreams. When facing death all men, even those who do not believe in the gods, feel that there is more to the world than that which meets the senses. Now I could hear the Fisherman calling me to his god.

  “I have never believed in the gods,” I said, surprised by my own thoughts, “I do not think I believe in you either. But if I would place my faith in one, perhaps I would choose you. I do not understand why, perhaps it is because of what the man Peter said to me. Perhaps it is more than that. Was it you haunting my dreams? If so, I commend myself and this ship to your keeping. But most of all, I ask you to help these men. Not for myself, but for what they are trying to do to help this world. If that cause is worthy, and I think it is, we are going to need all the help you give us. I cannot be your hand unless you take mine!”

  I could hear the familiar footsteps of Primus coming up from behind. When I turned toward him I was greeted by the imposing sight of him in full war attire. He was fierce to behold. He moistened his finger and held it up to the wind.

  “The wind is westerly,” he said, “What little there is of it now.”

  “I know,” I replied, “It is less than two knots. We shall have to crawl to our destiny.”

  “We make sail?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered, “Without wind we may find ourselves taking the whole strait under oars. We need to save the oarsmen’s strength as much as we can.”

  “Once they see our sail,” he noted, “They will have plenty of time to prepare a trap for us.”

  “It cannot be helped,” I said, “Set sail!”

  Across the sea, just beyond our view, an event took place that is worthy of comment. The Septimus Fleet was, indeed, still guarding the mouth of the strait in a long, sixteen ship phalanx with the Agrippa anchoring the far end. The violent storm that hastene
d our approach had delayed their departure, forcing them to hug the shore and shelter themselves against it.

  Now the fleet, after a successful summer harvest of smugglers, was weary of its mission and its men longed for the shores of home after months of vigil. By the morrow, their plans would send them on their slow trek back to Misenum. The sun was hot and the work was routine. Boredom and complacence had begun to set in. Severus too, had seen enough. He could return the favorable report his Emperor wanted to hear.

  A dark shape appeared in the eastern sky. Against the glare hardly anyone but the idly curious took notice of it. But as it approached, it became clear what it was.

  A great black bird was coming straight toward them from overhead. More began to observe it as it grew larger in the sky. They had never seen such a bird in these waters.

  It flew straight over the fleet in a long, wide arc and turned back to make another. By this time most began to study it. The sound of mutterings could be heard on all the ships. It made another long, sweeping arc as it circled directly over the fleet again. All work stopped and now the sound of fear and concern became so clear that Severus himself came out to look.

  No sooner had he done this than the Great Bird turned and began another long, slow circle over the fleet, finally coming to perch itself upon the topmast of the mighty Agrippa. Fear and loud mutterings now filled the air as the men, certain it was an evil sign, began to voice their fears.

  Noting the fear among his crew Severus quickly sent for his astrologer. He was not a superstitious man but he could see the fear that had taken hold of his fleet. Gaius Sepulco, the fleet astrologer, came to his Master, a look of fear was in his eyes.

  “Well?” Severus snapped.

  “It is a very serious omen, My Lord!” he said softly.

  “What does that mean?” Severus asked impatiently.

  “Dark forces are at work,” the astrologer replied, “The bird does not portend well. It circled the fleet three times and came to rest upon our mast…”