Ben-Hur; a tale of the Christ

by Lew Wallace

  CHAPTER V

  Every soul aboard, even the ship, awoke. Officers went to theirquarters. The marines took arms, and were led out, looking in allrespects like legionaries. Sheaves of arrows and armfuls of javelinswere carried on deck. By the central stairs the oil-tanks and fire-ballswere set ready for use. Additional lanterns were lighted. Buckets werefilled with water. The rowers in relief assembled under guard infront of the chief. As Providence would have it, Ben-Hur was oneof the latter. Overhead he heard the muffled noises of the finalpreparations--of the sailors furling sail, spreading the nettings,unslinging the machines, and hanging the armor of bull-hide over theside. Presently quiet settled about the galley again; quiet fullof vague dread and expectation, which, interpreted, means READY.

  At a signal passed down from the deck, and communicated to thehortator by a petty officer stationed on the stairs, all at oncethe oars stopped.

  What did it mean?

  Of the hundred and twenty slaves chained to the benches, not one butasked himself the question. They were without incentive. Patriotism,love of honor, sense of duty, brought them no inspiration. They feltthe thrill common to men rushed helpless and blind into danger. It maybe supposed the dullest of them, poising his oar, thought of all thatmight happen, yet could promise himself nothing; for victory would butrivet his chains the firmer, while the chances of the ship were his;sinking or on fire, he was doomed to her fate.

  Of the situation without they might not ask. And who were theenemy? And what if they were friends, brethren, countrymen? Thereader, carrying the suggestion forward, will see the necessitywhich governed the Roman when, in such emergencies, he locked thehapless wretches to their seats.

  There was little time, however, for such thought with them. A soundlike the rowing of galleys astern attracted Ben-Hur, and the Astroearocked as if in the midst of countering waves. The idea of a fleetat hand broke upon him--a fleet in manoeuvre--forming probablyfor attack. His blood started with the fancy.

  Another signal came down from the deck. The oars dipped, and thegalley started imperceptibly. No sound from without, none fromwithin, yet each man in the cabin instinctively poised himselffor a shock; the very ship seemed to catch the sense, and holdits breath, and go crouched tiger-like.

  In such a situation time is inappreciable; so that Ben-Hur couldform no judgment of distance gone. At last there was a sound oftrumpets on deck, full, clear, long blown. The chief beat thesounding-board until it rang; the rowers reached forward fulllength, and, deepening the dip of their oars, pulled suddenlywith all their united force. The galley, quivering in everytimber, answered with a leap. Other trumpets joined in theclamor--all from the rear, none forward--from the latter quarteronly a rising sound of voices in tumult heard briefly. There wasa mighty blow; the rowers in front of the chief's platform reeled,some of them fell; the ship bounded back, recovered, and rushed onmore irresistibly than before. Shrill and high arose the shrieksof men in terror; over the blare of trumpets, and the grind andcrash of the collision, they arose; then under his feet, under thekeel, pounding, rumbling, breaking to pieces, drowning, Ben-Hur feltsomething overridden. The men about him looked at each other afraid.A shout of triumph from the deck--the beak of the Roman had won! Butwho were they whom the sea had drunk? Of what tongue, from what landwere they?

  No pause, no stay! Forward rushed the Astroea; and, as it went,some sailors ran down, and plunging the cotton balls into theoil-tanks, tossed them dripping to comrades at the head of thestairs: fire was to be added to other horrors of the combat.

  Directly the galley heeled over so far that the oarsmen on theuppermost side with difficulty kept their benches. Again the heartyRoman cheer, and with it despairing shrieks. An opposing vessel,caught by the grappling-hooks of the great crane swinging fromthe prow, was being lifted into the air that it might be droppedand sunk.

  The shouting increased on the right hand and on the left; before,behind, swelled an indescribable clamor. Occasionally there was acrash, followed by sudden peals of fright, telling of other shipsridden down, and their crews drowned in the vortexes.

  Nor was the fight all on one side. Now and then a Roman in armorwas borne down the hatchway, and laid bleeding, sometimes dying,on the floor.

  Sometimes, also, puffs of smoke, blended with steam, and foulwith the scent of roasting human flesh, poured into the cabin,turning the dimming light into yellow murk. Gasping for breaththe while, Ben-Hur knew they were passing through the cloud ofa ship on fire, and burning up with the rowers chained to thebenches.

  The Astroea all this time was in motion. Suddenly she stopped.The oars forward were dashed from the hands of the rowers, and therowers from their benches. On deck, then, a furious trampling, and onthe sides a grinding of ships afoul of each other. For the first timethe beating of the gavel was lost in the uproar. Men sank on the floorin fear or looked about seeking a hiding-place. In the midst of thepanic a body plunged or was pitched headlong down the hatchway,falling near Ben-Hur. He beheld the half-naked carcass, a massof hair blackening the face, and under it a shield of bull-hideand wicker-work--a barbarian from the white-skinned nations ofthe North whom death had robbed of plunder and revenge. How camehe there? An iron hand had snatched him from the opposing deck--no,the Astroea had been boarded! The Romans were fighting on their owndeck? A chill smote the young Jew: Arrius was hard pressed--he mightbe defending his own life. If he should be slain! God of Abrahamforefend! The hopes and dreams so lately come, were they onlyhopes and dreams? Mother and sister--house--home--Holy Land--washe not to see them, after all? The tumult thundered above him;he looked around; in the cabin all was confusion--the rowers on thebenches paralyzed; men running blindly hither and thither; only thechief on his seat imperturbable, vainly beating the sounding-board,and waiting the orders of the tribune--in the red murk illustratingthe matchless discipline which had won the world.

  The example had a good effect upon Ben-Hur. He controlled himselfenough to think. Honor and duty bound the Roman to the platform;but what had he to do with such motives then? The bench was athing to run from; while, if he were to die a slave, who wouldbe the better of the sacrifice? With him living was duty, if nothonor. His life belonged to his people. They arose before himnever more real: he saw them, their arms outstretched; he heardthem imploring him. And he would go to them. He started--stopped.Alas! a Roman judgment held him in doom. While it endured, escapewould be profitless. In the wide, wide earth there was no place inwhich he would be safe from the imperial demand; upon the land none,nor upon the sea. Whereas he required freedom according to the formsof law, so only could he abide in Judea and execute the filialpurpose to which he would devote himself: in other land he wouldnot live. Dear God! How he had waited and watched and prayed forsuch a release! And how it had been delayed! But at last he hadseen it in the promise of the tribune. What else the great man'smeaning? And if the benefactor so belated should now be slain! Thedead come not back to redeem the pledges of the living. It shouldnot be--Arrius should not die. At least, better perish with himthan survive a galley-slave.

  Once more Ben-Hur looked around. Upon the roof of the cabin thebattle yet beat; against the sides the hostile vessels yet crushedand grided. On the benches, the slaves struggled to tear loose fromtheir chains, and, finding their efforts vain, howled like madmen;the guards had gone upstairs; discipline was out, panic in. No,the chief kept his chair, unchanged, calm as ever--except thegavel, weaponless. Vainly with his clangor he filled the lullsin the din. Ben-Hur gave him a last look, then broke away--notin flight, but to seek the tribune.

  A very short space lay between him and the stairs of the hatchwayaft. He took it with a leap, and was half-way up the steps--up farenough to catch a glimpse of the sky blood-red with fire, of theships alongside, of the sea covered with ships and wrecks, of thefight closed in about the pilot's quarter, the assailants many,the defenders few--when suddenly his foothold was knocked away,and he pitched backward. The floor, when he reached it, seemed tobe lifting itself and breaking to pi
eces; then, in a twinkling,the whole after-part of the hull broke asunder, and, as if it hadall the time been lying in wait, the sea, hissing and foaming,leaped in, and all became darkness and surging water to Ben-Hur.

  It cannot be said that the young Jew helped himself in thisstress. Besides his usual strength, he had the indefinite extraforce which nature keeps in reserve for just such perils to life;yet the darkness, and the whirl and roar of water, stupefied him.Even the holding his breath was involuntary.

  The influx of the flood tossed him like a log forward into thecabin, where he would have drowned but for the refluence of thesinking motion. As it was, fathoms under the surface the hollowmass vomited him forth, and he arose along with the loosed debris.In the act of rising, he clutched something, and held to it. The timehe was under seemed an age longer than it really was; at last hegained the top; with a great gasp he filled his lungs afresh, and,tossing the water from his hair and eyes, climbed higher upon theplank he held, and looked about him.

  Death had pursued him closely under the waves; he found it waitingfor him when he was risen--waiting multiform.

  Smoke lay upon the sea like a semitransparent fog, through whichhere and there shone cores of intense brilliance. A quick intelligencetold him that they were ships on fire. The battle was yet on; nor couldhe say who was victor. Within the radius of his vision now and thenships passed, shooting shadows athwart lights. Out of the dun cloudsfarther on he caught the crash of other ships colliding. The danger,however, was closer at hand. When the Astroea went down, her deck,it will be recollected, held her own crew, and the crews of thetwo galleys which had attacked her at the same time, all of whomwere ingulfed. Many of them came to the surface together, and onthe same plank or support of whatever kind continued the combat,begun possibly in the vortex fathoms down. Writhing and twistingin deadly embrace, sometimes striking with sword or javelin, theykept the sea around them in agitation, at one place inky-black,at another aflame with fiery reflections. With their struggles hehad nothing to do; they were all his enemies: not one of them butwould kill him for the plank upon which he floated. He made hasteto get away.

  About that time he heard oars in quickest movement, and beheld agalley coming down upon him. The tall prow seemed doubly tall,and the red light playing upon its gilt and carving gave it anappearance of snaky life. Under its foot the water churned toflying foam.

  He struck out, pushing the plank, which was very broad andunmanageable. Seconds were precious--half a second might save or losehim. In the crisis of the effort, up from the sea, within arm's reach,a helmet shot like a gleam of gold. Next came two hands with fingersextended--large hands were they, and strong--their hold once fixed,might not be loosed. Ben-Hur swerved from them appalled. Up rosethe helmet and the head it encased--then two arms, which began tobeat the water wildly--the head turned back, and gave the face tothe light. The mouth gaping wide; the eyes open, but sightless,and the bloodless pallor of a drowning man--never anything moreghastly! Yet he gave a cry of joy at the sight, and as the facewas going under again, he caught the sufferer by the chain whichpassed from the helmet beneath the chin, and drew him to the plank.

  The man was Arrius, the tribune.

  For a while the water foamed and eddied violently about Ben-Hur,taxing all his strength to hold to the support and at the sametime keep the Roman's head above the surface. The galley hadpassed, leaving the two barely outside the stroke of its oars.Right through the floating men, over heads helmeted as well asheads bare, she drove, in her wake nothing but the sea sparklingwith fire. A muffled crash, succeeded by a great outcry, made therescuer look again from his charge. A certain savage pleasuretouched his heart--the Astroea was avenged.

  After that the battle moved on. Resistance turned to flight. But whowere the victors? Ben-Hur was sensible how much his freedom andthe life of the tribune depended upon that event. He pushed theplank under the latter until it floated him, after which all hiscare was to keep him there. The dawn came slowly. He watched itsgrowing hopefully, yet sometimes afraid. Would it bring the Romansor the pirates? If the pirates, his charge was lost.

  At last morning broke in full, the air without a breath. Off to theleft he saw the land, too far to think of attempting to make it.Here and there men were adrift like himself. In spots the sea wasblackened by charred and sometimes smoking fragments. A galley upa long way was lying to with a torn sail hanging from the tiltedyard, and the oars all idle. Still farther away he could discernmoving specks, which he thought might be ships in flight or pursuit,or they might be white birds a-wing.

  An hour passed thus. His anxiety increased. If relief came notspeedily, Arrius would die. Sometimes he seemed already dead,he lay so still. He took the helmet off, and then, with greaterdifficulty, the cuirass; the heart he found fluttering. He tookhope at the sign, and held on. There was nothing to do but wait,and, after the manner of his people, pray.