The dart whistled into the mass about the fire, skewering a man. The pirates scattered with cries of dismay. When our bow gently touched the sand, and marines and sailors scrambled down off the bow and waded ashore, they found the beach deserted. I would have gone ashore with them, but a bark from Damophilos brought me back. Our landing party went along the line of ships, throwing torches and bundles of flaming tow into them, or building fires under their bilges.
Damophilos came up to the forecastle deck. "O Berosos!" he said. "Yours are the keenest eyes here. Tell me what you see."
Berosos held up his hands to shade his eyes from the blazes. "Methinks men muster on yonder hill. The gleam of firelight on breastplates I see; these must be some of Demetrios' regulars."
"Sound the recall!" cried Damophilos to the trumpeter.
"Captain!" said the boatswain. "The Agile signals us."
"Sound the recall again," said Damophilos. "Archers, we will fire the remaining ships with arrows; stand by. Why in the name of the Dog don't those men hurry?"
Our landing party straggled back. Damophilos cupped his hands and shouted: "Last man shall be left ashore!"
. This brought them on the run. When all were aboard, the Halia backed water and turned parallel to the shore. A dozen ships were ablaze, yellow flames glancing from the waters and lighting the bellies of billowing clouds of smoke. Several more vessels began to catch.
We rowed along the shore, past the four ships to which fire had not yet been applied. Our archers showered them with fire and set at least one alight.
Now, however, a crowd of men appeared in the firelight: a mixed multitude of pirates and soldiers. Demetrios' officers directed them. Some shouted threats and taunts across the dark waters; others, more practically, rushed to the ships and fought the fires. They threw helmetfuls of water on the blazes, pulled fire arrows out of the woodwork, beat and kicked at the smaller fires, or threw sand into the flames. Many ships, however, had blazed too high to be saved.
"Speed up the beat! Raise the boat sail!" came Damophilos' voice from the quarterdeck.
The sound of the flutist's notes came faster. Halia began to roll in the swells outside the bay. The fires receded, merging with distance into a single blaze. A dark shape appeared ahead; Damophilos and his executive officer agreed that it must be the Euryalê. From another dark shape came frantic lantern signals.
We rowed briskly north, our battle sail adding to our speed. Then two more shapes came into view, growing larger by the heartbeat. It was plain that these were two of Demetrios' heavy warships, put out to intercept us. In the dark they looked twice the size of any ship I had seen.
The two triemiolias had drawn ahead of the Halia. Now they swung out to sea. One of the Antigonians followed. To my ears came the distant sound of hails and responses.
The other ship bore down upon us. Damophilos held to his course, though it would bring us almost within spitting distance of the Antigonian.
"Ahoy!" came a hail out of the dark. "Who are you?"
"The 'Ektor of Miletos!" cried Damophilos, dropping his h's like an Ionian. "Come to join King Demetrios. Are you Rhodian or Antigonian?"
"Antigonian! Heave to for inspection!"
"You are a dirty Rhodian and I will not stop!" shouted Damophilos. "Follow me into the 'arbor if you wish to speak me."
"Stop, I tell you, or I'll ram!"
"Get out of my way, and you may send an officer aboard. Careful, you stupid ox, or you'll 'ave us both sunk!"
The two ships passed on opposite courses, just far enough apart to keep their oars from clashing. At Damophilos' orders our rowers lifted their oars and rested on them, as if he really meant to stop. The Antigonian ship did likewise. Then, as the natural drift of the ships began to carry them apart, Damophilos cried:
"Forward! Flank speed!"
Our rowers dug in their oars and strained at the looms. The Halia leaped like a living thing. Cries of rage came from the Antigonian's deck. A few arrows whistled past us or stuck in the woodwork. Iros, one of my cockers, suddenly choked, staggered, waved his arms wildly, and fell with an arrow through his throat. He died before we could do anything.
Pronax, our loader, said: "It'll take that big thing time to turn around; but, once she does, she can overtake us."
The Antigonian almost disappeared astern; the triemiolias were out of sight to seaward. We pulled to the north at a steady stroke. There was little sound but the swish of our bow through the waves, the thump of the oars against the thole pins, and the peep of the flutist's pipe. Formless dark shapes of bay and headland drifted past us to port.
A rent appeared in the overcast, through which the moon blazed down in full silvery glory. After we had groped so long beneath a canopy of clouds, the moonlight seemed as bright as day. It lit up a bay in which strange machines were building.
Damophilos hastened forward. "Berosos! Look yonder and tell me what you see."
Berosos peered. "A pair of ships conjoined together I see, with a platform erected over them on which some sort of tower is a-building. Two—-three—four such pairs I see. Then, over that way, a whole mass of ships I see—"
"What else?"
"Not far enough advanced are the works, except on the second pair of ships yonder. The thing upon them seems to be a catapult of the largest size."
We all strained our eyes, trying to pick out further details, though none could see more than Berosos had described. Then a sailor called:
"Captain! The Antigonian is coming up astern!"
The moon showed the ship that had challenged us about two furlongs astern and closing the gap.
"Row harder!" cried Damophilos. "Put your backs into it. Raise the beat, coxswain. Flank speed, if you would see your homes again!"
The Halia speeded up a little, but not much, as our rowers had been pulling hard for a quarter-hour and were tiring. Closer came the Antigonian. Off to starboard the two triemiolias appeared, with the other large ship in pursuit. Astern two more great black shapes crawled out from shore.
Our pursuer gained until we could again hear the hail of its captain. Then came the thump of catapults. Missiles whispered past us.
"Rhyppapai! Papai!" called our coxswain.
Damophilos: "Archers, come aft! The rest of you on the forecastle, take cover."
While the archers filed back to take up the arrow fight, the crew of the Talos went below to the storeroom beneath the forecastle deck. We crowded around the door, peering out until a three-span dart whizzed through the opening, passing within a few digits of my head, and buried itself in the planking. Thereafter we were less eager spectators.
As we neared the moles of our harbor, our trumpeter sounded the alarm. Answering flourishes came from the shore. Through the storeroom door I glimpsed the yellow blink of torchlight as men manned the batteries on the South Mole.
The Euryalê and the Agile passed into the harbor ahead of us. As we came around the end of the South Mole, our catapults on the mole awoke with thumps and crashes. We came out on deck to see our pursuers sheer off. We were safe.
A few days later, a team of mules hauled Bias' new catapult down to the waterfront. I came with Bias and several of his workmen and the crew of the Talos, which had been given the honor of proving the new weapon.
We rumbled out the sea gate in the harbor wall, which Makar was still valiantly raising. Outside the wall lay a broad strip of paving ordinarily crowded with cargoes awaiting transshipment but now almost bare. Along the edge of this waterfront ran the quays and piers and the walled-off section that housed the arsenal and the dockyards. The four moles jutted out from shore like the tentacles of some sea creature, embracing the two harbors.