CHAPTER II
The tribune, standing upon the helmsman's deck with the order ofthe duumvir open in his hand, spoke to the chief of the rowers.[1]
[1] Called hortator.
"What force hast thou?"
"Of oarsmen, two hundred and fifty-two; ten supernumeraries.
"Making reliefs of--"
"Eighty-four."
"And thy habit?"
"It has been to take off and put on every two hours."
The tribune mused a moment.
"The division is hard, and I will reform it, but not now. The oarsmay not rest day or night."
Then to the sailing-master he said,
"The wind is fair. Let the sail help the oars."
When the two thus addressed were gone, he turned to the chief pilot.[2]
[2] Called rector.
"What service hast thou had?"
"Two-and-thirty years."
"In what seas chiefly?"
"Between our Rome and the East."
"Thou art the man I would have chosen."
The tribune looked at his orders again.
"Past the Camponellan cape, the course will be to Messina.Beyond that, follow the bend of the Calabrian shore till Melitois on thy left, then-- Knowest thou the stars that govern in theIonian Sea?"
"I know them well."
"Then from Melito course eastward for Cythera. The gods willing,I will not anchor until in the Bay of Antemona. The duty is urgent.I rely upon thee."
A prudent man was Arrius--prudent, and of the class which,while enriching the altars at Praeneste and Antium, was ofopinion, nevertheless, that the favor of the blind goddessdepended more upon the votary's care and judgment than uponhis gifts and vows. All night as master of the feast he had satat table drinking and playing; yet the odor of the sea returnedhim to the mood of the sailor, and he would not rest until heknew his ship. Knowledge leaves no room for chances. Having begunwith the chief of the rowers, the sailing-master, and the pilot,in company with the other officers--the commander of the marines,the keeper of the stores, the master of the machines, the overseerof the kitchen or fires--he passed through the several quarters.Nothing escaped his inspection. When he was through, of the communitycrowded within the narrow walls he alone knew perfectly all there wasof material preparation for the voyage and its possible incidents;and, finding the preparation complete, there was left him but onething further--thorough knowledge of the personnel of his command.As this was the most delicate and difficult part of his task,requiring much time, he set about it his own way.
At noon that day the galley was skimming the sea off Paestum.The wind was yet from the west, filling the sail to the master'scontent. The watches had been established. On the foredeck thealtar had been set and sprinkled with salt and barley, and beforeit the tribune had offered solemn prayers to Jove and to Neptuneand all the Oceanidae, and, with vows, poured the wine and burnedthe incense. And now, the better to study his men, he was seatedin the great cabin, a very martial figure.
The cabin, it should be stated, was the central compartment of thegalley, in extent quite sixty-five by thirty feet, and lighted bythree broad hatchways. A row of stanchions ran from end to end,supporting the roof, and near the centre the mast was visible,all bristling with axes and spears and javelins. To each hatchwaythere were double stairs descending right and left, with a pivotalarrangement at the top to allow the lower ends to be hitched tothe ceiling; and, as these were now raised, the compartment hadthe appearance of a skylighted hall.
The reader will understand readily that this was the heart ofthe ship, the home of all aboard--eating-room, sleeping-chamber,field of exercise, lounging-place off duty--uses made possible bythe laws which reduced life there to minute details and a routinerelentless as death.
At the after-end of the cabin there was a platform, reached byseveral steps. Upon it the chief of the rowers sat; in front ofhim a sounding-table, upon which, with a gavel, he beat timefor the oarsmen; at his right a clepsydra, or water-clock,to measure the reliefs and watches. Above him, on a higherplatform, well guarded by gilded railing, the tribune had hisquarters, overlooking everything, and furnished with a couch,a table, and a cathedra, or chair, cushioned, and with arms andhigh back--articles which the imperial dispensation permitted ofthe utmost elegance.
Thus at ease, lounging in the great chair, swaying with the motionof the vessel, the military cloak half draping his tunic, sword inbelt, Arrius kept watchful eye over his command, and was as closelywatched by them. He saw critically everything in view, but dweltlongest upon the rowers. The reader would doubtless have donethe same: only he would have looked with much sympathy, while,as is the habit with masters, the tribune's mind ran forward ofwhat he saw, inquiring for results.
The spectacle was simple enough of itself. Along the sides of thecabin, fixed to the ship's timbers, were what at first appearedto be three rows of benches; a closer view, however, showed thema succession of rising banks, in each of which the second benchwas behind and above the first one, and the third above and behindthe second. To accommodate the sixty rowers on a side, the spacedevoted to them permitted nineteen banks separated by intervals ofone yard, with a twentieth bank divided so that what would havebeen its upper seat or bench was directly above the lower seatof the first bank. The arrangement gave each rower when at workample room, if he timed his movements with those of his associates,the principle being that of soldiers marching with cadenced step inclose order. The arrangement also allowed a multiplication of banks,limited only by the length of the galley.
As to the rowers, those upon the first and second benches sat,while those upon the third, having longer oars to work, were sufferedto stand. The oars were loaded with lead in the handles, and near thepoint of balance hung to pliable thongs, making possible the delicatetouch called feathering, but, at the same time, increasing theneed of skill, since an eccentric wave might at any moment catcha heedless fellow and hurl him from his seat. Each oar-hole wasa vent through which the laborer opposite it had his plenty ofsweet air. Light streamed down upon him from the grating whichformed the floor of the passage between the deck and the bulwarkover his head. In some respects, therefore, the condition of themen might have been much worse. Still, it must not be imagined thatthere was any pleasantness in their lives. Communication betweenthem was not allowed. Day after day they filled their placeswithout speech; in hours of labor they could not see each other'sfaces; their short respites were given to sleep and the snatchingof food. They never laughed; no one ever heard one of them sing.What is the use of tongues when a sigh or a groan will tell allmen feel while, perforce, they think in silence? Existence withthe poor wretches was like a stream under ground sweeping slowly,laboriously on to its outlet, wherever that might chance to be.
O Son of Mary! The sword has now a heart--and thine the glory!So now; but, in the days of which we are writing, for captivitythere was drudgery on walls, and in the streets and mines, and thegalleys both of war and commerce were insatiable. When Druilius wonthe first sea-fight for his country, Romans plied the oars, and theglory was to the rower not less than the marine. These benches whichnow we are trying to see as they were testified to the change comewith conquest, and illustrated both the policy and the prowess ofRome. Nearly all the nations had sons there, mostly prisoners ofwar, chosen for their brawn and endurance. In one place a Briton;before him a Libyan; behind him a Crimean. Elsewhere a Scythian,a Gaul, and a Thebasite. Roman convicts cast down to consort withGoths and Longobardi, Jews, Ethiopians, and barbarians from theshores of Maeotis. Here an Athenian, there a red-haired savagefrom Hibernia, yonder blue-eyed giants of the Cimbri.
In the labor of the rowers there was not enough art to give occupationto their minds, rude and simple as they were. The reach forward,the pull, the feathering the blade, the dip, were all there was ofit; motions most perfect when most automatic. Even the care forcedupon them by the sea outside grew in time to be a thing instinctiverather than of thought. So, as the result of l
ong service, the poorwretches became imbruted--patient, spiritless, obedient--creatures ofvast muscle and exhausted intellects, who lived upon recollectionsgenerally few but dear, and at last lowered into the semi-consciousalchemic state wherein misery turns to habit, and the soul takes onincredible endurance.
From right to left, hour after hour, the tribune, swaying inhis easy-chair, turned with thought of everything rather thanthe wretchedness of the slaves upon the benches. Their motions,precise, and exactly the same on both sides of the vessel, after awhile became monotonous; and then he amused himself singling outindividuals. With his stylus he made note of objections, thinking,if all went well, he would find among the pirates of whom he wasin search better men for the places.
There was no need of keeping the proper names of the slaves broughtto the galleys as to their graves; so, for convenience, they wereusually identified by the numerals painted upon the benches towhich they were assigned. As the sharp eyes of the great manmoved from seat to seat on either hand, they came at last tonumber sixty, which, as has been said, belonged properly to thelast bank on the left-hand side, but, wanting room aft, had beenfixed above the first bench of the first bank. There they rested.
The bench of number sixty was slightly above the level of theplatform, and but a few feet away. The light glinting throughthe grating over his head gave the rower fairly to the tribune'sview--erect, and, like all his fellows, naked, except a cinctureabout the loins. There were, however, some points in his favor.He was very young, not more than twenty. Furthermore, Arrius wasnot merely given to dice; he was a connoisseur of men physically,and when ashore indulged a habit of visiting the gymnasia to see andadmire the most famous athletae. From some professor, doubtless,he had caught the idea that strength was as much of the qualityas the quantity of the muscle, while superiority in performancerequired a certain mind as well as strength. Having adopted thedoctrine, like most men with a hobby, he was always looking forillustrations to support it.
The reader may well believe that while the tribune, in the searchfor the perfect, was often called upon to stop and study, he wasseldom perfectly satisfied--in fact, very seldom held as long ason this occasion.
In the beginning of each movement of the oar, the rower's body andface were brought into profile view from the platform; the movementended with the body reversed, and in a pushing posture. The graceand ease of the action at first suggested a doubt of the honestyof the effort put forth; but it was speedily dismissed; the firmnesswith which the oar was held while in the reach forward, its bendingunder the push, were proofs of the force applied; not that only,they as certainly proved the rower's art, and put the critic inthe great arm-chair in search of the combination of strength andcleverness which was the central idea of his theory.
In course of the study, Arrius observed the subject's youth;wholly unconscious of tenderness on that account, he also observedthat he seemed of good height, and that his limbs, upper and nether,were singularly perfect. The arms, perhaps, were too long, but theobjection was well hidden under a mass of muscle, which, in somemovements, swelled and knotted like kinking cords. Every rib inthe round body was discernible; yet the leanness was the healthfulreduction so strained after in the palaestrae. And altogether therewas in the rower's action a certain harmony which, besides addressingitself to the tribune's theory, stimulated both his curiosity andgeneral interest.
Very soon he found himself waiting to catch a view of the man'sface in full. The head was shapely, and balanced upon a neck broadat the base, but of exceeding pliancy and grace. The featuresin profile were of Oriental outline, and of that delicacy ofexpression which has always been thought a sign of blood andsensitive spirit. With these observations, the tribune's interestin the subject deepened.
"By the gods," he said to himself, "the fellow impresses me! Hepromises well. I will know more of him."
Directly the tribune caught the view he wished--the rower turnedand looked at him.
"A Jew! and a boy!"
Under the gaze then fixed steadily upon him, the large eyes of theslave grew larger--the blood surged to his very brows--the bladelingered in his hands. But instantly, with an angry crash, down fellthe gavel of the hortator. The rower started, withdrew his face fromthe inquisitor, and, as if personally chidden, dropped the oar halffeathered. When he glanced again at the tribune, he was vastly moreastonished--he was met with a kindly smile.
Meantime the galley entered the Straits of Messina, and, skimming pastthe city of that name, was after a while turned eastward, leaving thecloud over AEtna in the sky astern.
Often as Arrius resumed to his platform in the cabin he returnedto study the rower, and he kept saying to himself, "The fellowhath a spirit. A Jew is not a barbarian. I will know more of him."