You did this! You cheated me."
I had nothing to do with it." No use. Cotys wanted a culprit. Anacrites!" I bawled at Cotys. This was typical of the Chief Spy and his staff. even when he was away, Anacrites" cashiers had automatically worked a fiddle. Knowingly or not, Holconius and Mutatus had become party to a classic scam. The ransom chest must have had coins in the top layer to look good, but it was mainly loaded with stones. This scam usually failed; criminals know to check a payoff thoroughly. But if one group of pirates is stealing from another in a hurry, they might omit this precaution.
Cotys, the money was issued by the Chief Spy's office. He always plays dirty." Cotys knew nothing of Anacrites. You did it!" he shouted. This is the end of you, Falco!" The crew were all yelling abuse. Someone began shaking a boathook, though I was too low down for them to reach. Cotys disappeared again for a moment, then he was back with an axe. He was so angry he was willing to sacrifice a decent ladder just to dispatch me. He slashed at the ladder. Like all sailors, he knew how to cleave a rope in a crisis. One side gave way. As I swung and crashed against the hull, I cried out for him to stop. He sawed through the other rope. I fell. I had just time to hope that some passing dolphin who liked to play with Roman boys would swim up and save my life. Then I took a last breath, flailed madly amid the tangled ladder rungs, and sank beneath the deep, cold waves.
LII
Don't fall in any water… Helena had known almost since I met her that I could not swim. She had once saved me from tumbling into the River Rhodanus, after which it had been her personal mission to prevent me from drowning. She had tried to teach me how to stay afloat. Hold your breath and just lie back; you will float on the water. Have faith, Marcus I went down. I came up. I held my breath and looked up at the sky. Water rushed over my face and I sank straight back down under. I was trapped in ladder rungs. I was being dragged beneath the water by their weight. Stupidly, I was still holding on. I let go my grip and fought to free myself. Terror almost overwhelmed me. I broke loose. Suddenly lighter, I knew I was free. Don't panic; just keep still… I came up and hit the surface. Warm sun lit my face. Coughing, I nearly sank again. On your back, Marcus; you're quite safe. I kept still. I took a breath and did not sink. Fine. Thank you, lady. The Illyrian ship was sailing fast away from me on the northbound coastal current. The shoreline was so far away it was virtually out of sight. I had been battered and tormented, then thrown into the ocean. I was floating, but when I tried to move, I floundered. I had swallowed seawater. I knew I would be cold and exhausted all too soon. I felt sick. Cramp was moments away. There were no friendly dolphins wanting to rescue me, though I knew there would be sharks. Neptune and Amphitrite might have invited me to dinner, but they must have gambolled off with their hippocamps to elsewhere in their salty domain. Nobody knew I had even left Portus. Now here I was, all alone in the middle of the Tyrrhenian Sea. In despair, I struggled to point myself shorewards. Then I saw a fishing smack. The small boat was motionless with its spritsail furled, not too far from me. Nobody was visible. I tried calling for help, with no result. Slowly, I tried paddling and at last, after ages of effort, I struggled right alongside the bobbing boat. It was too soon to start feeling proud of myself. It was too soon for relief. As I called out and made my presence felt, someone at last reacted. He was very displeased to see me. In fact, as I tried to grab a rope and appeal for help to come aboard the craft, he abruptly stood up above me. In horror I saw him raise an oar, about to crash it on my head with sure intent to kill me. I kicked off from his damned boat. I would have cursed him but there was no time and I went under the water again. The man I had seen was wide, sturdy, in his sixties and with wild grey curly hair. Although I only glimpsed a blurred outline through the water in my eyes, I knew him. I tried to shout his name but swallowed a pint of sea instead. It was too late. I was drowning now. Then I blundered into something which nearly took my ear off, and heard a cry of Grab the bloody oar!" After which that familiar voice said with casual irritation, I've given birth to an idiot." So I grabbed the oar and gasped with my usual filial respect, Shut up and pull me out, before I die here, Pa!"
LIII
"Nice of you to drop in, Marcus. What are you doing, fannying about here all on your own, half dead?" Half dead was right. I was lying barefoot in the bottom of his boat, completely collapsed. I could not even thank Geminus for the welcome. Someone thumped me between the shoulder blades. I threw up a lot of seawater.
Gods, nothing changes with this boy, he was just the same at three months old, oops, there he goes again! Let's try and aim him over the side next time." Someone else was in the boat. With a lot of concentration, as other people hauled me upright, I managed to squirm around enough to be seasick over the rail as requested. Applause greeted this feat of willpower. I lay with my face on the rail, shivering uncontrollably. Take me home, Pa."
We will, son." Nothing happened. The fishing boat continued to bob gently where it was. I was aware that Geminus was taking his ease, completely unconcerned. Eventually, I managed to squint around enough to see his companion. Gornia, Pa's warehouse assistant. Beside him, my belt had been looped around a spar and my boots upended on the rowlocks to drain. Both Pa and Gornia were wearing hats. They had draped a tiny piece of sacking to provide shade for me. The August sun sparkled off the ocean, its light implacable and dazzling. I could not face the major issue of why my father just happened to be drifting about the Tyrrhenian Sea. So I lost myself in wondering why Gornia, who ought to be supervising the warehouse back at the Saepta Julia in Rome, was instead sitting with my father in the same ridiculous boat. The answer was beyond me. Gornia, a little old chap who had spent many years with my father, just sat there and grinned at me with almost toothless gums. I did not waste effort on an appeal to him. He always let Pa take the lead in conversation, and Pa was a master of holding back essential facts. Gornia could have worked at some respectable establishment, where the pay would have been as scanty and the hours as long, but he gave the strange impression he enjoyed the thrills at the Geminus cavern of mysteries.