Our mounted scouts scoured the area of the inlet, along with another inlet opposite the second island, yet could not find any craft large or seaworthy enough to ferry us across the water to either island.
“Maybe he’ll call off an attack,” Vibius said hopefully, a sentiment that I answered with a snort of dismissal.
“Not very likely. We’ve just marched across the entire length of Hispania; do you really think Caesar is going to be denied now?”
Despite not liking what I said, neither could he argue and he knew it, just answering with a shake of his head as he viewed the expanse of water with trepidation. Caesar’s answer to the lack of boats was simple; we would make them. Once again we found ourselves finding, felling and dragging back trees that the engineers deemed suitable for our purposes. There were men with experience in shipbuilding who were put in charge of the work, with the rest of the Legions supplying the manual labor. It took a full week, and was done far enough up the inlet that results of our labor was not visible to the Gallaeci on the islands. While we were involved in this work, those Gallaeci that for whatever reason had not joined their comrades on the island did whatever they could to delay us, most commonly attempting to fire the boats at night. They managed to burn one, so after that raid we kept a constant vigil, forcing a lot of us who worked all day to go without much sleep at night as we stood guard. Despite the Gallaeci’s attempts, the work progressed until we had a dozen flat-bottomed barges, each of them able to hold two Centuries and an artillery piece. Meanwhile, the command group worked out the plan for the assault, deciding that our best chance was to cross at night, something that became a symbol of Caesar’s, the sudden movement that the enemy did not expect. However, a night attack requires a huge amount of coordination and not a little luck but as we were to learn, almost as much as his skill, Caesar was renowned for his good fortune and he never hesitated putting his faith in it during tough times. The 10th was chosen to lead the assault, with the First through Fourth Cohorts designated as the first group the boats would take across, and the decision was made to attack in three days’ time, there being no moon starting that night, a sword that cut both ways. It would make our approach harder to detect, but it also meant that the chances of a mistake were much greater. To help guide us a small group of men, using a boat commandeered from somewhere that was small enough to be harder to detect, would row over to the island the night before the assault, then remain hidden during the day. On the next night, at a pre-appointed time, they would light a shielded lantern on the beach only detectable from our spot out on the water to help guide us in. To further the subterfuge, the boats would not be brought down the inlet until after dark, requiring us to hurry to load up then row across to the island, using the lamp as our guide. It would require a minimum of foul-ups in order to be successful, and the fact that Caesar put his faith in us made us all the more determined.
When the night of the assault arrived, helping our cause was a heavy cloud cover, or at least so we thought. However, shortly before the boats were supposed to arrive it also began to rain, with the wind picking up, blowing off the ocean and directly into our faces. That made the trip down the inlet more difficult for the men selected to row the boats, so they arrived later than planned. By the time they pulled up onto the beach, the wind had increased so that the falling rain was almost horizontal and the waves had become increasingly choppy. Peering through the rainy dark at Vibius, I saw an expression of real apprehension that not even the gloom could conceal, bringing me a bit of comfort now that I knew he was as worried as I was. Both of us were country boys, our first glimpse of the ocean occurring on a training march from our camp at Scallabis several months earlier, while neither of us had been in so much as a rowboat, let alone a flat-bottomed troop transport. Calienus and the other veterans who had participated in amphibious operations with Pompey did their best to put us at ease, but their own looks of concern did nothing to assuage our fears. Being the First Century of the Second, we were one of the first to load up, bringing on board with us two artillery pieces, both scorpions, whereupon we rowed out a short distance then dropped anchor to wait for the other units to load up. Before much time passed, the violent bobbing made most of us sick, so the gunwales of the boat were lined with Legionaries puking their guts out. I am not ashamed to say that I was one of them; it was not until much later that I got my sea legs but even then, I did not, nor do I now like sea voyages of any duration. It took perhaps a third of a watch to load the rest of the Centuries of our four Cohorts into the boats, then we ran into another problem. With the rain getting steadily worse, it became so heavy that we could not see the beacon that was supposed to be guiding us to the island.
“If we can’t see the damn light, how can we know which way we’re going?” this was Didius’ voice, and for one of the few times I was in complete agreement. “For all we know, we may end up 20 miles out to sea, then what'll happen?”
“We’ll all drown, you idiot, what do you think will happen?” Even Calienus’ voice sound strained when he replied to Didius.
Vibius and I, as usual, were standing together and Vibius whispered to me, “Titus, I’m not going to lie. I’m scared to death.”
“Me too,” was all I could manage, before retching again, despite having lost everything in my stomach.
Ignoring the lack of a guiding light, the men at the oars began to heave when the order was given and once more, someone called out, “Jupiter Optimus Maximus, protect this Legion, soldiers all,” as we began making our way towards what we hoped was the island.
It took the better part of a third of a watch, with the men at the oars straining all the way, before we got close enough to the island for someone to see the lantern.
“There it is, off to the right,” I heard an excited voice call out.
“By the gods, we almost missed the damn island,” another voice exclaimed, and there was a chorus of agreement. If we had passed by with the island off to our right, we would have headed out to open sea and certain death by drowning.
“Well, at least we found the damn thing.” That was the Pilus Prior, who for once seemed as apprehensive as we were, not bothering to tell us to shut up once. Continuing, he told us, “Listen up, boys. You just saw how long it took us to get to this island. It won’t take them half as long to get back because the wind is at their back, but it'll take them just as long, if not longer to bring up the next four Cohorts. In fact, we’ll probably be on this island for at least a full watch by ourselves, so keep that in mind. No heroes; make sure we stay together because it’s darker than Pluto’s bunghole out here. Hopefully the boys on the island'll be able to point us in the right direction.”
“Pilus Prior, wouldn’t it make more sense to wait until the whole Legion is on the beach?”
I do not know who asked that but I believe that only the total darkness emboldened him to question our orders. What was even more surprising was that the Pilus Prior did not take offense. In fact, he agreed.
“Yes, it would make more sense, but that’s not our orders. Caesar has commanded that we begin the assault immediately, and that's what we’re going to do. The thing that worries me is that the artillery won’t be able to use the combustibles to start a fire in their defenses to give us light, so we’re going to have to be very careful and stay in formation. Make sure that nobody gets separated by keeping close enough to each other so that you’re touching. If you lose contact with someone on either side, call out immediately so they’ll know to close back in and get in contact, but by the gods keep your voices down when you do it.”