The Gladiator

CHAPTER THREE

Your captain's gone,' Macro announced. 'And the man on the tiller. So who is next in the chain of command?'

The crew looked at each other for a moment before an older man shuffled forward. 'That'd be me, sir. The first mate.'

'Can you work the ship?'

'I suppose so, sir. I share watch duties with the captain. Well at least I did, until…'

The man gestured towards the stern and shrugged his shoulders.

Macro could see that he was still in a state of shock and could not yet be counted on to meet the challenge.

'Right then, I'll take charge for now. Once the ship is seaworthy again you will take over as captain. Agreed?'

The mate gave a resigned shrug. Macro looked round the deck as a small wave sent spray bursting over the low side of the waterlogged ship. 'First thing we do is lighten the ship. I want all the passengers and crew to start jettisoning the cargo. Once we're riding higher in the water we can begin to bail out.'

'Sir, what cargo should we begin with?' asked the mate.

'Whatever's closest to hand. Now open the deck hatch and get on with it.'

The timbers of the hatch had splintered as the cargo tumbled around when the ship had rolled over. Once the ties had been undone, Macro and the others wrenched the battered planks away and threw them over the side of the Horus. The last light of the day was fading fast as Macro leaned over the coaming and stared down into the hold. Whatever order there might have been in the loading of the cargo, there was no sign of it in the jumbled heap of broken amphorae, sacks of grain and bales of material that filled the hold. Sea water sloshed about below.

'Right then, let's get to work,' Macro ordered. 'Take what comes to hand and get it over the side.' He pointed at the nearest of the crew. 'You four, into the hold. The rest of you take what they pass up and throw it overboard.'

The crewmen swung their legs over the side of the hatch coaming and warily eased themselves down into the hold, bracing their feet carefully on the jumbled cargo. Macro spotted some small wooden chests near the top of the pile. 'We'll have those first.'

As the first chest came up on deck the mate stared at it and swallowed nervously. 'Sir, you can't throw that over the side.'

'Oh? Why not?'

'These chests are the property of a Roman lord. They contain rare spices. They're valuable, sir.'

'That's too bad,' Macro replied.' Now pick the chest up and get rid of it.'

The mate shook his head.' No, sir. I will not be held responsible for that.'

With a sigh Macro bent down and lifted the chest up, strode over to the side and threw it into the sea. Turning back to the mate, he could not help being amused by the man's horrified expression.

'There you go. See? Not so difficult when you try. To work, the rest of you. I don't give a shit what anything's worth. It all goes over the side. Got that?'

The crewmen in the hold began to work in earnest, heaving the loose items of cargo up on to the deck, where their comrades stood ready to dispose of it all. Macro returned to the mate and muttered in a low voice, ' Now then, if you don't mind, I think you should lend a hand saving your bloody ship.'

The mate saw the serious expression on the centurion's face and nodded quickly before jumping down into the hold to. help the others.

'That's better,' Macro nodded.

As more chests, and bales of sodden material were heaved up on deck, Sempronius and his daughter approached Macro.

The senator cleared his throat.' Can we help?'

'Of course, sir. The more hands the better. If these sailors look like lacking, kick ' em in the arse. We have to lighten the ship as quickly as we can.'

'I'll see to it.'

'Thank you, sir.' Macro turned to Julia. 'You might as well take shelter in the stern, miss.'

Julia raised her chin defiantly.' No. Not while I can do anything to help.'

Macro cocked an eyebrow. 'I know what Cato meant to you, miss.

Best that I let you deal with your loss. Besides, it's man's work. No offence, but you'd just get in the way'

'Oh really?' Julia's eyes narrowed. She slipped the drenched cloak from her shoulders and let it flop on to the deck. Bending down, she lowered herself into the cargo hold, picked up one of the chests with a grunt and heaved it up towards the deck. Macro looked at her and shrugged.

'As you will, miss. Now then,' his expression hardened, 'I'd better see to the dead.'

'Dead?' Sempronius looked at him. 'It's a bit late to do anything for them, don't you think?'

'We must lighten the ship. They have to go over the side as well, sir,' Macro explained gently. 'I'm no stranger to death, so let me do it.'

'Over the side?' Sempronius glanced towards the stump of the mast where Jesmiah's body lay slumped. 'Even her?'

Yes, sir.' Macro nodded sadly. 'Even her.'

'Such a shame,' Sempronius mused as he stared at the body. 'She's not had much of a life.'

'More than some get, sir. And her death wasn't as bad as it could have been.' Macro briefly recalled the siege of the citadel at Palmyra where he had first met Jesmiah. If the citadel had fallen then, she and all the other defenders would have been put to the sword, after being tortured, or raped. But the senator was right: Jesmiah's life had been cut short, just when she might have had some happiness. Macro sighed as he crossed the deck and bent down. She was still fastened to the mast by a rope around her middle, and Macro drew out his dagger and quickly sawed through the coarse rope and tossed the ends aside. Sheathing his blade, he slid his hands beneath the body and picked her up. Jesmiah's head lolled against his shoulder, as if she was dozing, and Macro paced steadily to the side of the ship and lifted her over the rail.

He took a last look at her young face, and then lowered her to the sea, letting her drop with a splash. Her hair and clothes billowed in the water before a slight swell bumped the body against the side of the hull and carried her out of reach. Macro sighed and turned away to find the next corpse. There were only three more; the rest of those who had been lost had been swept over the side, like Cato, when the titanic wave struck the Horus. Macro paused as he thought of his friend once more. Cato was the closest thing to family that Macro had in the world. In the years they had served together he had come to regard him as a brother. Now he was dead. Macro felt a weary numbness in his heart, but he knew that the grief would come later on, when he had time to think.

'Poor Cato, he never did like the water…'

With a sad shake of his head, Macro turned to pick up the last body, a short, thin merchant who had boarded the ship at Caesarea.

With a grunt he raised the body and tossed it as far from the ship as he could before making his way back to the deck hatch to help the others lighten the vessel.

The burning agony in Cato's lungs seemed to last an eternity and then, as his vision began to fade, he was aware of a lighter patch in the dark water that surrounded him. He kicked out with the last of his failing strength and his heart strained with hope as the light grew and he knew he must be heading for the surface. Then, just as the pain was becoming so unbearable that Cato feared he might black out, there was an explosion of noise in his ears and he burst from the surface of the sea. At once he coughed up the water in his lungs in agonising gasps as he kicked feebly in an.effort to stay on the surface.

For a while his breath came in ragged gasps. Water slapped against his face and into his mouth, causing fresh bouts of spluttering and retching. His eyes stung so badly that he was forced to keep them shut as he struggled to stay afloat. The tunic and heavy military boots weighed him down and encumbered his efforts to stay on the surface. He realised that if he had been wearing anything more than this he would certainly have drowned. Slowly he recovered his breath, and then, as his heart ceased pounding in his ears, he blinked his eyes open and glimpsed around the choppy surface of the sea that surrounded him.

At first he saw nothing but water, then he turned his head and caught a glimpse of the coastline of Crete. It seemed to be miles away, and Cato doubted he had the strength to swim that far. Then something nudged his side and he swirled round in a panic. A length of the ship's spar, complete with a ragged strip of the sail and tendrils of rigging, bobbed on the surface beside him. He let out an explosive gasp of relief as he grabbed hold of the spar and rested his arms over it. While he rose and dipped on the swell, he took in the scene around him. The sea was dotted with debris from the Horus, as well as a handful of bodies.

For a moment Cato was struck by the horrific thought that he was the only survivor from the ship. All the others must have gone down with the vessel when the wave struck and swamped the merchantman. Macro… Julia, her father and Jesmiah, all gone, he thought in a blind panic as a deep groan welled up in his chest.

A fresh swell lifted Cato up, and then he saw the ship, or rather what was left of her. Some distance from him the hull floated very low in the water. The mast and stern post had been carried away, and in the gloom of the gathering dusk Cato could just make out a handful of dazed figures stumbling about on deck. He tried to call out, but all he could manage was a painful croak, and then a small wavelet splashed into his face and filled his mouth. Cato spluttered for a moment, tried to call out again, and then trod water, fighting off a surge of despair as the last of the day's light began to fail. Those on the ship could not see him. In any case, they would be too preoccupied with their own problems to look for survivors in the sea.

Cato trembled. The water was already cold enough, and he doubted that he had the strength to last through the night.

Clutching the wooden spar, Cato struck out towards the ship. It was hard going, but the prospect of being saved lent him desperate strength, enough to keep kicking out, working his way across the swell towards the Horus. His progress felt painstakingly slow, and he was fearful that darkness would soon be upon him and he would lose sight of the ship.

The distance gradually closed, and even though the night had settled across the sea, there was just enough starlight in the heavens to illuminate the darker outline of the ship against the black swell of the water. As he drew closer, Cato tried to call out again, but his feeble cry was drowned by the surge and hiss of the waves and the splashes coming from the side of the ship. Not far from the Horus he bumped into a wooden case floating low in the water. He steered it aside and continued to close up on the ship. Twofigures appeared above him, grunting as they struggled with a large amphora.

'On the count of three, ' a voice growled, and they began to swing the heavy jar to and fro. Cato recognised the voice well enough, but before he could try to shout a greeting, the sound died in his throat as he realised that the large jar would land right on top of him.

'Wait!' The shout ripped from his throat as he raised a hand and waved frantically to attract attention. 'Lower that bloody jar!'

'What the fuck?' Macro's voice carried down to the water. 'Cato?

That you?'

'Yes… yes. Now put the bloody thing down, before you drop it on my head!'

'What? Oh yes.' Macro turned back to the other man on deck.

'Easy there. Put the amphora down, careful like. Cato, wait there. I'll get a rope.'

'Where else would I go?' Cato grumbled.

A moment later Macro's dark form appeared above the rail and a rope splashed into the water.

Cato's cold fingers struggled to find the end of the rope. When he had it he held on as tightly as he could before muttering through clenched teeth, ' Ready '

With a grunt Macro hauled his friend out of the sea, and as the young centurion surged up he leaned down with one hand and grasped his tunic to haul him aboard. Cato thudded down on the deck and slumped against the side, chest heaving with the effort of the swim back to the Horus and shivering violently as a cool breeze blew across the deck. Macro could not help smiling grimly.

'Well, you're in a right state. Proper drowned rat, you are.'

Cato frowned. 'I fail to see the humour of our situation.'

'Then you're not trying hard enough.'

Cato shook his head, then his heart stilled as he glanced round the deck and took in the damage that had been done to the ship, and the handful of figures working around the cargo hatch.

'Julia… Where's Julia?'

'She's safe, lad. And so is her father.' Macro paused and cleared his throat. 'But Jesmiah's gone.'

'Gone?'

'Dead. Her neck snapped when the ship went over. We lost quite a few of the crew and passengers. Mostly swept away. The rest were killed or injured by the ship's kit when it broke loose.'

'Julia's safe then, ' Cato muttered to himself as a surge of relief flowed through him. He took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart and looked up at Macro. 'She thinks I was lost?'

Macro nodded. 'Putting a brave face on it, of course, what with her being the daughter of a senator. But you might want to put her mind at rest sooner rather than later. Then we need to get this tub seaworthy again, otherwise we'll all be for the chop.'

Cato struggled to his feet. 'Where is she?'

'In the hold. Helping get rid of the cargo. Her idea, not mine, before you ask. Now then, ' Macro turned to a nearby sailor, 'give a hand with this.'

Leaving Macro and the other man to ditch the unwieldy amphora, Cato crossed the deck towards the open cargo hold. As he approached, he saw Sempronius looking up. The senator broke into a broad smile.

'Well now! I'd given you up for dead, Centurion.'

Cato grasped the hand that was offered to him, and clasped the senator's arm. The older man stared at him for a moment and then spoke softly. 'It's good to see you, my boy. I feared the worst.'

'So did I, ' Cato replied ruefully. 'Seems the gods aren't quite finished with me.'

'Indeed. I will make a sacrifice to Fortuna the moment we reach dry land.'

'Thank you, sir.' Cato nodded, and then looked past the senator down into the ship's hold. Even in the gloom he could make Julia out at once. She was bent over a waterlogged bale of finely woven cloth, struggling to lift it on to her shoulder.

'Excuse me, sir.' Cato released the senator's hand and hopped over the side of the hatch, dropping slightly behind Julia. He leaned forward to help her, brushing her arm as he took hold of the cloth.

She flinched and snapped.

'I can manage!'

'Let me help, Julia.'

She froze for an instant and then responded in a whisper, without turning her head.' Cato?'

'Of course.'

Dropping the bale, Julia rose up and spun round, throwing her arms around him.' Cato! Oh, Cato… I thought…' She stared up into his eyes, her lips trembling. Then she buried her face in his sodden chest and clenched her fists into the back of his tunic. He felt her shudder and then he heard a sob. He prised himself back so that he could look down at her face.

'It's all right, Julia. Shhh, my love. There's no need for tears, I'm alive and well.'

'I know, I know, but I thought I might have lost you.'

'Really?' Cato raised his eyebrows. It was a lucky thing indeed that he had survived the wave. He forced a smile. 'Takes more than a bloody wave to finish me off.'

Julia released her grip and thumped him on the chest. 'Don't ever do that to me again.'

'I promise. Unless we run into another wave, that is.'

'Cato!' she growled. 'Don't!'

They were interrupted by a loud cough and turned to see Macro, hands on hips, looking down into the hold with a bemused expression. 'If you two have quite finished, can we get back to work?'

The first hours of the night were spent getting rid of as much cargo as possible. The work be came progressively harder as the survivors began to get deeper into the hold, where the heaviest items had been loaded. Much of the cargo had been thrown out of position and smashed against the hull or the underside of the cargo hatch. But slowly the Horus began to ride higher in the water, to the relief of all aboard. However, as they delved further into the hold, it was clear that the vessel had shipped a great deal of water.

'We can start bailing that out once we've shifted a bit more of the cargo, ' Macro decided. 'That'll keep us afloat.'

The mate scratched his chin. 'Yes, I hope so.'

Macro turned to him with an irritable expression. 'Problem?'

'Of course.' The mate sounded surprised.' The cargo's shifted all over the place, and the Horus has been capsized. We were lucky she righted herself. Very lucky Shows how well she was built that she's still afloat. But there's bound to be plenty of damage. Some of the seams will have been badly strained, and are probably leaking already'

Macro shrugged.' Then we'll just have to bail the water out faster than it gets in.'

'We can try'

'Bugger try; we will, ' Macro said firmly.

The mate nodded slightly. 'If you say so. But once it's safe enough I'll have to go into the hold and examine the hull for leaks. Then try to stop them up if I can.'

What's the danger of going in there now?'

'There's still loose cargo in there, Centurion. The swell's getting up and I don't fancy being crushed or buried alive if the Horus heaves too far to one side. We have to get as much of the cargo out as we can first.'

'Fair point. When it's safe to go in. I'll give you a hand.' Macro glanced round the deck and his gaze fixed on the shattered stump of the broken mast. 'Something else occurs to me.'

'Sir?'

'Keeping afloat is one problem, but how are we going to get this ship under way again?'

The mate indicated a spar lashed along one of the sides of the vessel. 'We'll have to jury — riga new mast. There's some spare cable and an old sail for'ard. Then we'll need to rig a new rudder and tiller from what's left of the cargo hatch. Should give us steerage way, but she'll be slow, and I doubt if we can weather any storm.' He shivered.

'Or any wave half the size of the one that hit us.'

'That'll have to do then. Soon as we get going we'll make for the nearest harbour on Crete.'

The mate thought a moment and nodded. 'Matala's the best bet.'

'Matala it is then. Now back to work.'

As soon as he felt that the hold was safe enough, the mate climbed carefully across the remaining cargo and waded towards the side of the hull. Macro lowered himself down and followed the mate, carrying a sack of tarry strips of old sailcloth. Hardly any of the light from the stars filtered into the hold, and the steady creak of the timbers and rushing swirl of water on both sides of the hull was unnerving.

'This way' the mate called. 'Stay close to me.'

'I will, don't worry about that.'

The mate headed forward, picking his way over the timber ribs of the Horus. Then he steadily worked his way aft, feeling for any leaks and holes. Every so often he paused to check and then asked Macro for a piece of cloth, and the two of them squatted in the cold water and did their best to stuff the thick material into the small gaps that had opened in the seams. When they had worked their way round the stern and back to the bows and groped their way to the cargo hatch, Macro climbed the ladder on to the deck and slumped down, cold and exhausted.

'Will that keep the water out?' he asked the mate.

'It'll help. It's the best we can dofor now. Once we have the jury mast rigged, we'll have to organise two watches to take turns at bailing the water out.'

'Fine. I'll lead one. Cato can take the other. I want you to concentrate on keeping the ship afloat and getting us to port.'

The mate sighed. 'I'll do the best I can, Centurion.'

'Of course you will. If the ship sinks and we all drown, then I'll have your bloody guts for garters.' He slapped the mate on the back.

'Let's get this mast up.'

With the Roman officers' help, the crewmen untied the spar and positioned the butt up against the stump of the mast. Then, with four ropes tied to the far end, Macro and five men heaved the spar up. The mate, with two strong men, kept the butt in position as Cato oversaw two teams of men heaving on the ropes. Slowly the spar rose up, carefully guided into a vertical position against the mast's stump as Macro and his men took the other two ropes to steady it. At once, the mate and his men hurriedly lashed the spar to the stump, and then tied more ropes around it, as tightly as possible, until satisfied that the makeshift mast was as firm as it could be. There was no rest for the crew as they improvised the necessary shrouds, sheets and a cross spar from the ship's sweep oars, lashed together. Lastly they fetched out the old sail from a locker and fastened it to the spar. The makeshift rudder was lowered over the stern and a man assigned to the tiller before the sail was carefully hoisted up the mast.

A light breeze filled the sail with a rippling series of thuds, as the mate looked on apprehensively. Then he gave the order to sheet home, and the Horus began to make way through the gentle swell, just as the first glimmer of light appeared on the horizon. On deck, those who were not helping to crew the ship lay down to rest, exhausted. Senator Sempronius cradled his daughter's head and shoulders in his lap and covered her with his cloak. Once the mate was satisfied that the ship was performing as well as it could under the rough repairs that had been carried out through the night, he came to report to Macro and Cato.

'We're holding a course along the coast, sir. Should make Matala before the end of the day. We can put in for repairs there.'

'Good job.' Macro smiled. 'You've done well.'

The mate was too tired for any modesty, and just nodded before he made his way aft to give his orders to the man at the tiller, and then leaned on the side rail. Macro rubbed his hands together and gazed towards the coming dawn. You hear that? Safe and sound on dry land by the end of the day'

Cato did not reply. He was staring at the distant coastline of Crete.

After a moment he stretched his shoulders and rubbed his neck. 'Safe and sound? I hope so.'

Macro frowned. 'What now? The prospect of being saved from a watery grave not good enough for you?'

'Oh, I'm pleased enough about that.' Cato forced a brief smile.

'The thing is, if that wave almost destroyed the ship, then the gods only know what it has done to the island of Crete…'