by Ken Farmer
That evening, slaves - they could not be other - arrived in carry of a lectica. The carrying chair was only a blind - inside was not a man, fat and unwilling to use his own feet, but a crude wooden box, massively heavy and almost unable to keep the contents from pulling the nails and spilling the contents across the wharf. With a sling, it was lowered to newly placed planks in the bilge, and an equivalent weight of sand was lifted to be dropped overboard.
Another came later, and placed along the keel following the calculations of Flavius as to balance of the ship with such dense ballast.
The next night began the deliveries again, and four were hauled from... wherever they had been hidden, and stowed below. Julius gave orders that all were to have their weapons at hand, even in sleep. Should any hint of such wealth reach the open air, every pirate, miscreant and reaver in and about the sea would be in full sail or walk to their wharf. And, he forbade any excursions ashore for the same reason.
Their saving circumstance was that the city of Rheginum was almost empty of people - not depopulated, but any with wealth, or even just passage fee, had long fled, the slaves had mostly joined the rebellious forces, leaving only a few citizens and servants of little worth or use - and a number of oldsters unable to either leave or join.
The nights were black with overcast and cold winds, with the rain coming and going at will. It was almost as if Batiatus had contracted with the gods for the perfect weather to move the ransom of a King from here to there.
Julius had assumed Captaincy of the Petrel again, discussing the matter with Densus and giving thoughts of a future for the man. The rotund crewman had been a satisfactory master during the time that the noble had been walking the land as Tribune, but the man was the oldest on board and reaching an age where a lighter duty might be more suitable. Julius had plans to put him as Captain of a merchant, mayhap one of the new grainships that had been ordered by the family.
In a few days, during a howling storm, Flavius came to Julius, saying with a jesting tone, but deadly serious in his warning, "If we board much more ballast, Capitaneus, our treasure may be delivered to the vaults of Neptune."
"Aye," replied the Captain. "I have already told such to Batiatus and he has given that little more remains. Apparently, he is in search of some valuables that have little weight. We will stand out when the storm moderates."
Or mayhap sooner. He had been noticing an increase in the wandering men around the city, even only in look from the deck of the Petrel. In the pour of the rain on an evening, Ngozi had need of pulling his metal to give denial to three men who were desiring passage on the Petrel, and apparently with little interest in being refused. At a call, several of the crew hurried to assist and the confrontation was ended without any clash of iron, but...
"It is an evil crowd that is gathering in the city, Capitaneus," said Densus.
"Aye. And they are not slaves, looking for succor from the approaching Legions." This was Maccalus, looking more as tent than man in his overlapping rain leathers.
Julius only nodded, then made his decision. "At the fall of darkness, we will pull away from the wharf and anchor out for our security." To Densus, he said, "Have the skiff hove overboard in readiness to haul our fat passenger when he arrives."
That plan was rendered moot long before the end of the day. Julius was relaxing in the middle hold, watching the throw of bones between Pontika and the men when, suddenly the scuttle hatch opened with Judoc shouting a warning of some violence in approach. Bones and cup and modi coins scattered as the men grabbed their gladii and raced up the ladder, even without pause for rain-wear.
It took only a few moments for Julius to see and decide. Turning, he shouted commands. "Flavius! Loose the forward bollard! Valens! Untie us aft. Cut the lines if the knots are stubborn." To Densus, he said, "Every man on the poles to push us away and out!" The stiff wind was directly from the north, pushing the Petrel into the wharf. Such was good assistance in keeping the ship firmly hove at its mooring, but would make it difficult to make release. And, if the poles, pushed into the harbor bottom were unable to allow the vessel to keep station, it would be pushed onto the shore that curved to the south.
"Pontika! Gain the rudder and wait for my commands." The young woman, not an officially acknowledged crew member and yet a goodly hand at the tasks of the ship, had become as proficient on the steering haft as any man. Her skills would not be needed this day, Julius hoped, but...
Slowly, the Petrel began to move backwards, the dexter beam grinding against the planks of the wharf, despite the efforts of all to push away, then as the afterpart made clear, the wind began to spin the vessel around. Such was not unwanted by Julius, but it emphasized the force being pushed against the hull by the wind. In a brief thought, he realized that had the Petrel not been deeply in draft with the massive load of valuable metal below, they would now being shoved across the water with no hope of halt.
He could only spare a brief glance into the town, that seemed to have erupted into another battlefield. His first thought was that the Legions of Lucullus - or mayhap, Pompey - had arrived, sowing panic into the remaining doomed rebels and slaves, but he could see no sign of either ranks nor red armor. Now, with the ship free and drifting in the wind, he shouted, "Drop the anchor stones! Fore and aft! And with haste!"
They were only a few handfuls of strides from the wharves, but even such was a much greater barrier for any attempting to swarm the ship. Now, he moved to the forepeak to look at the churning mobs along the port road, attempting to give some sense to the activity. Then, Valens strode up, pointing into the wind and saying, "The festive boat, Sos... Capitaneus. Look."
The gaudy flatboat of Batiatus was a considerable distance away, but even so, they could see the swarms of men that had boarded, and without doubt in the attempt to use it to escape their approaching doom in this land.
Julius nodded slowly, realizing that the fat Lanista had probably met his fate from the swarming land-pirates - a destiny that would gain no tears, but considerable satisfaction from the Captain and all in his crew, and especially for one of younger age. But, for now, his need was more than relaxing in satisfaction of yon demise. With the wind in full blow, any increase might begin to give drag even to the heavy stones tied to the end of ropes. He looked into the distance, out to see, then to the lee side of the harbor, measuring and giving calculation of distances and leeway. He rejected an idea, then another, walking to look past the edge of the mast, lining it up with a structure in the city to give him knowledge if the Petrel was dragging the stones. Then...
"Look! The flatboat is adrift!" Flavius was pointing into the distance at the big vessel of the Lanista. Indeed it was moving and even with the sail being raised as they watched.
Densus, standing beside Julius, said with some disbelief. "Yon crew are fools. The wind on that floating brothel will push it as a dropped leaf on the waters."
The worry of Julius was that the unwieldy vessel would drift down onto the Petrel, with fatal consequences for both. "I doubt that the crew is in command. Or even still alive. Probably someone just cut the bollard ropes and let it free."
"Someone on board has the knowledge to lift the canvas, and in this wind that would be no little task."
Julius just nodded, gauging the moment of the vessel they were watching. It was half a stadium away, but would close quickly if not under some command. Now all in the crew were lined in watch, none with any protection from the blowing rain and without even noticement of either cold or wetness. He could see that the sopped tunic of Pontika left no doubt as to her gender, but on this day, even men long at sea seemed to have little interest in other but a loose ship and some violence on the shore.
"It is underway," said Flavius, pointing. Indeed, the unwieldy ship was moving forward somewhat, but making as much progress to leeward as toward the open sea. Now, the Carpenter called, "A skiff, Capitaneus! There."
They could see a small boat, in the distance, in visual line with the vessel they
had been watching with interest. There appeared to be three men in the little craft, two apparently paddling to give some way, although as they were coming straight from the eye of the blow, they could have saved themselves the effort - without doubt the howling wind was giving more impetus to their movement than the flailing with paddles.
Suddenly, the realization came to all in the Petrel of the identity of the crew in the tiny skiff. "By the stinking anus of Jupiter!" gave Densus. "The putrid Lanista and his ruffians."
From behind came the voice of Pontika, and not as a gentle converse in the atrium. "Cannot we drop a rock in the boat? No one will ever know but us."
Julius turned to look at the femina, her expression not that of innocence, but hatred for what was approaching. "Aye," he replied with a shake of the head. "It has entered my thoughts, also. But, we have taken his contract with legitimacy and I cannot violate such in the name of my family." He put a hand on the shoulder of the girl. "But, I have given oath to take my vengeance on the man in some future day that does not violate my principles." He looked back at the swiftly approaching skiff. "Of course, if they ram the side of the Petrel and give stove to their planks, then it is not denigration on our honor that they flounder to their doom." Now he called. "Toss down the ladder."
Judoc heaved the boarding ladder over the side, setting the upper hooks in place to hold it against any weight below. Now they waited, Julius giving a wry assumption that all of his men - and the woman - were probably giving oaths and promise of generous tribute to various gods if they might cause the little cockleshell to splinter into kindling upon reaching the Petrel.
Alas, it did not. Furious paddling backward that they not give violent impact with the far larger hull, the skiff touched just below the ladder. With some unusual haste for one with such impoverished sinews, the Lanista managed to climb on board, turning to bark an order to his men. Quickly, one stood, steadied by the other, handing up a small wooden box secured with a leather cord, wrapped thrice around. Now both men climbed to stand expressionless in wait of their Master.
"By the gods, that was a bit of a struggle," said Batiatus. "The scum suddenly swarmed from the shore in attack without warning. Had not the boarding plank broken and fallen from the weight of numbers, they would have done for us. The need of the bastardum to find another board was all that allowed us to flee."
"Aye," replied Julius. "That was indeed fortunate." To Densus he said, "Put our passenger in the forward hold. Pontika will sleep in mine for this voyage." That little space, far forward, had been the private place of the femina on the continual voyage ever since the Petrel had left Neopolis. Julius had had absolutely no fear that the young woman would be chivvied by the crew - far less given violation - but a female who now had a fully fledged body - and lightly garbed for sleep - would be a distraction for men long at sea - even among close friends.
Another reason was the hatred that she bore for the man who had destroyed her friend. Such was no deeper than that of Julius - or most of the crew - but she had little skill in keeping such feelings to herself. And the Lanista was not a man to take insult without response.
"The two men will have to take mats in the middle hold." That would not be something giving great pleasure by the crew, but their hatred was for the Master, not the men.
He noticed that the two men of the Lanista were looking with surprise at their unusual crewman, her gender clearly exposed under the sopping tunic. "Pontika, go below and garb in some leathers. And gather your kit. You will berth in my cabin for the nonce." With the ship in peril from the wind, he needed no sudden bloodshed from the pair of toughs making comment or movement about the femina. All in the crew would carve the pair as ragout for the stewpot at a single word wrongly spoken. She nodded and moved to the fore cabin, disappearing from sight.
He turned to the noble. "Now... if you will move to your cabin, you may take your rest. Your men will berth there..." He pointed to the middle scuttle hatch. "...with mine. And now you must allow me to return to my post. We are in some peril from the winds in our situation..."
Flavius guided the noble to the forehatch, waiting until Pontika emerged with her woman-things, then came back to show the two guards their own quarters - a pair of mats against the forward bulkhead in the largest hold.
Now, all in the crew watch in fascination - and no little contempt - as the flatboat of Batiatus drifted its way across the harbor. With the sail partial raised, it had some forward movement - enough to give comfort that it would not approach the Petrel - but far less than needed to exit the harbor. Indeed, the loss of leeway was greater than the pace of the boat out to sea. Finally, as they watched, the overstressed sail ripped itself to rags, sealing the fate of the unwieldy craft. Now, it just moved with the fierce wind until it grounded on the southern curve of the harbor. The distance was too far to determine if it had torn out its bottom on the touch, or had just heaved ashore, mayhap to be refloated on day of less violence from the wind gods.
But, Julius and his crew had other needs than watching a mob of landsmen flounder a boat. As Pontika reappeared, now sexless in her heavy leathers and tied rain cover for her head, he ordered her to the rudder again.
To the others, he said, "This will require all the skill we possess. A single delay will give us join with yon fools on the flatboat. Flavius, Ngozi. You on the after stone. Maccalus, Valens. On the forward." Some thought, then, "Densus. You and I will raise the sail, then we will have to prevent the cloth from flatting to the wind. Caius. On the end of the boom and make ready to push it to the dexter beam and with all your force." He walked back to the girl at the stern. "Let us fall off, then you should feel some bite from the rudder." She nodded. "It is up to you to steer us between the eye and the shore." Another nod, and he walked back to the mast, watching as all took their places. He thought of using the two men of Batiatus as mere sinew, but decided the risk of a landman mishearing some command as too great.
The two men raised the canvas, allowing the boom to weathervane in the wind, giving no help or hinderance as yet. Then, he called forward for Maccalus and Valens to pull in the forward anchor stone. As it dragged across the mud for a moment, then lifted from the bottom, he shouted for Caius to push the bottom holder of the sail, the boom, out that it might catch a modicum of the wind and push the Petrel to one side.
Now the ship began to spin, forepeak pointing out to sea, as the wind caught the exposing side of the hull. He shouted a command to the men at the after anchor and quickly it was pulled from the bottom. The wind was sufficient enough, just acting on the hull, that the Petrel gave some response to the rudder - held by an unlikely helmsman, a slight femina. Still, the leeward drift would have them on the southern shore of the harbor before open water was reached. He shouted to pull the sail into cross-position that it might give sufficient way to the ship to give goodly effect to the rudder. Pontika was pointing the ship with the skill of an old hand. Not trying to claw as closely to the eye of the wind as possible and slowing their pace out of the harbor, nor directly across the blow, gaining the maximum pace but also losing leeway at every heartbeat. Rather, she was balancing between the two extremes, with the minimal drift toward the southern shore and the fastest pace out of the harbor.
As they passed the grounded boat of Batiatus, they could see that the damage on the rocks was enough that the vessel had foundered - at least as far as the shallows would allow. But, such was merely a short vision as they passed abeam. And not their worry.
It would be a close thing, but Julius saw that they would clear the southern point with about twenty paces to spare, and in a short while they were out of the harbor and into the beginnings of the straits of Messina. Now the wind, not blocked by the land was fierce, but the Petrel had much experience with such and far more.
"Do we try to tack up the strait, Capitaneus?" Densus had to shout to be heard.
"Nay!" was the reply. "We will turn the point around the island of Sicilia and make our way home across the wideness o
f the Tyrrhenian Sea." It would be foolish to try to climb directly into the wind in narrow waters bounded by rocky shores on either beam and a ship at maximum lading. Time was not of the essence, and if the voyage lasted another double handful of days, it would make no difference. "He pointed aft. Stand by as watch while I visit our new passengers."