CHAPTER III
The fourth day
out, and the Astroea - so the galley was named - speeding through the Ionian
Sea. The sky was clear, and the wind blew as if bearing the good-will of all
the gods.
As it was
possible to overtake the fleet before reaching the bay east of the island of
Cythera, designated for assemblage, Arrius, somewhat impatient, spent much time
on deck. He took note diligently of matters pertaining to his ship, and as a
rule was well pleased. In the cabin, swinging in the great chair, his thought
continually reverted to the rower on number sixty.
"Knowest
thou the man just come from yon bench?" he at length asked of the
hortator.
A relief was
going on at the moment.
"From number
sixty?" returned the chief.
"Yes."
The chief looked
sharply at the rower then going forward.
"As thou
knowest," he replied "the ship is but a month from the maker's hand,
and the men are as new to me as the ship."
"He is a
Jew," Arrius remarked, thoughtfully.
"The noble
Quintus is shrewd."
"He is very
young," Arrius continued.
"But our
best rower," said the other. "I have seen his oar bend almost to
breaking."
"Of what
disposition is he?"
"He is
obedient; further I know not. Once he made request of me."
"For
what?"
"He wished
me to change him alternately from the right to the left."
"Did he give
a reason?"
"He had
observed that the men who are confined to one side become misshapen. He also
said that some day of storm or battle there might be sudden need to change him,
and he might then be unserviceable."
"Perpol! The
idea is new. What else hast thou observed of him?"
"He is
cleanly above his companions."
"In that he
is Roman," said Arrius, approvingly. "Have you nothing of his
history?"
"Not a word."
The tribune
reflected awhile, and turned to go to his own seat.
"If I should
be on deck when his time is up," he paused to say, "send him to me.
Let him come alone."
About two hours
later Arrius stood under the aplustre of the galley; in the mood of one who,
seeing himself carried swiftly towards an event of mighty import, has nothing
to do but wait - the mood in which philosophy vests an even-minded man with the
utmost calm, and is ever so serviceable. The pilot sat with a hand upon the
rope by which the rudder paddles, one on each side of the vessel, were managed.
In the shade of the sail some sailors lay asleep, and up on the yard there was
a lookout. Lifting his eyes from the solarium set under the aplustre for
reference in keeping the course, Arrius beheld the rower approaching.
"The chief
called thee the noble Arrius, and said it was thy will that I should seek thee
here. I have come."
Arrius surveyed
the figure, tall, sinewy, glistening in the sun, and tinted by the rich red
blood within - surveyed it admiringly, and with a thought of the arena; yet the
manner was not without effect upon him: there was in the voice a suggestion of
life at least partly spent under refining influences; the eyes were clear and
open, and more curious than defiant. To the shrewd, demanding, masterful glance
bent upon it, the face gave back nothing to mar its youthful comeliness -
nothing of accusation or sullenness or menace, only the signs which a great
sorrow long borne imprints, as time mellows the surface of pictures. In tacit
acknowledgment of the effect, the Roman spoke as an older man to a younger, not
as a master to a slave.
"The
hortator tells me thou art his best rower."
"The
hortator is very kind," the rower answered.
"Hast thou
seen much service?"
"About three
years."
"At the
oars?"
"I cannot
recall a day of rest from them."
"The labor
is hard; few men bear it a year without breaking, and thou - thou art but a
boy."
"The noble
Arrius forgets that the spirit hath much to do with endurance. By its help the
weak sometimes thrive, when the strong perish."
"From thy
speech, thou art a Jew."
"My
ancestors further back than the first Roman were Hebrews."
"The
stubborn pride of thy race is not lost in thee," said Arrius, observing a
flush upon the rower's face.
"Pride is
never so loud as when in chains."
"What cause
hast thou for pride?"
"That I am a
Jew."
Arrius smiled.
"I have not
been to Jerusalem," he said; "but I have heard of its princes. I knew
one of them. He was a merchant, and sailed the seas. He was fit to have been a
king. Of what degree art thou?"
"I must
answer thee from the bench of a galley. I am of the degree of slaves. My father
was a prince of Jerusalem, and, as a merchant, he sailed the seas. He was known
and honored in the guest-chamber of the great Augustus."
"His
name?"
"Ithamar, of
the house of Hur."
The tribune
raised his hand in astonishment.
"A son of
Hur - thou?"
After a silence,
he asked,
"What
brought thee here?"
Judah lowered his
head, and his breast labored hard. When his feelings were sufficiently
mastered, he looked the tribune in the face, and answered,
"I was
accused of attempting to assassinate Valerius Gratus, the procurator."
"Thou!"
cried Arrius, yet more amazed, and retreating a step. "Thou that assassin!
All Rome rang with the story. It came to my ship in the river by Lodinum."
The two regarded
each other silently.
"I thought
the family of Hur blotted from the earth," said Arrius, speaking first.
A flood of tender
recollections carried the young man's pride away; tears shone upon his cheeks.
"Mother -
mother! And my little Tirzah! Where are they? O tribune, noble tribune, if thou
knowest anything of them" - he clasped his hands in appeal -”tell me all
thou knowest. Tell me if they are living - if living, where are they? and in
what condition? Oh, I pray thee, tell me!"
He drew nearer
Arrius, so near that his hands touched the cloak where it dropped from the
latter's folded arms.
"The
horrible day is three years gone," he continued -”three years, O tribune,
and every hour a whole lifetime of misery - a lifetime in a bottomless pit with
death, and no relief but in labor - and in all that time not a word from any
one, not a whisper. Oh, if, in being forgotten, we could only forget! If only I
could hide from that scene - my sister torn from me, my mother's last look! I
have felt the plague's breath, and the shock of ships in battle; I have heard
the tempest lashing the sea, and laughed, though others prayed: death would
have been a riddance. Bend the oar - yes, in the strain of mighty effort trying
to escape the haunting of what that day occurred. Think what little will help
me. Tell me they are dead, if no more, for happy they cannot be while I am
lost. I have heard them call me in the night; I have seen them on the water
walking. Oh, never anything so true as my mother's love! And Tirzah - her
breath was as the breath of white lilies. She was the youngest branch of the
palm - so fresh, so tender, so graceful, so beautiful! She made my day all
morning. She came and went in music. And mine was the hand that laid them low!
I -”
"Dost thou
admit thy guilt?" asked Arrius, sternly.
The change that
came upon Ben-Hur was wonderful to see, it was so instant and extreme. The
voice sharpened; the hands arose tight-clenched; every fibre thrilled; his eyes
inflamed.
"Thou hast
heard of the God of my fathers," he said; "of the infinite Jehovah.
By his truth and almightiness, and by the love with which he hath followed
Israel from the beginning, I swear I am innocent!"
The tribune was
much moved.
"O noble
Roman!" continued Ben-Hur, "give me a little faith, and, into my
darkness, deeper darkening every day, send a light!"
Arrius turned
away, and walked the deck.
"Didst thou
not have a trial?" he asked, stopping suddenly.
"No!"
The Roman raised
his head, surprised.
"No trial -
no witnesses! Who passed judgment upon thee?"
Romans, it should
be remembered, were at no time such lovers of the law and its forms as in the
ages of their decay.
"They bound
me with cords, and dragged me to a vault in the Tower. I saw no one. No one
spoke to me. Next day soldiers took me to the seaside. I have been a
galley-slave ever since."
"What
couldst thou have proven?"
"I was a
boy, too young to be a conspirator. Gratus was a stranger to me. If I had meant
to kill him, that was not the time or the place. He was riding in the midst of
a legion, and it was broad day. I could not have escaped. I was of a class most
friendly to Rome. My father had been distinguished for his services to the
emperor. We had a great estate to lose. Ruin was certain to myself, my mother,
my sister. I had no cause for malice, while every consideration - property,
family, life, conscience, the Law - to a son of Israel as the breath of his
nostrils - would have stayed my hand, though the foul intent had been ever so
strong. I was not mad. Death was preferable to shame; and, believe me, I pray,
it is so yet."
"Who was
with thee when the blow was struck?"
"I was on
the house-top - my father's house. Tirzah was with me - at my side - the soul
of gentleness. Together we leaned over the parapet to see the legion pass. A
tile gave way under my hand, and fell upon Gratus. I thought I had killed him.
Ah, what horror I felt!"
"Where was
thy mother?"
"In her
chamber below."
"What became
of her?"
Ben-Hur clenched
his hands, and drew a breath like a gasp.
"I do not
know. I saw them drag her away - that is all I know. Out of the house they
drove every living thing, even the dumb cattle, and they sealed the gates. The
purpose was that she should not return. I, too, ask for her. Oh for one word!
She, at least, was innocent. I can forgive - but I pray thy pardon, noble
tribune! A slave like me should not talk of forgiveness or of revenge. I am
bound to an oar for life."
Arrius listened
intently. He brought all his experience with slaves to his aid. If the feeling
shown in this instance were assumed, the acting was perfect; on the other hand,
if it were real, the Jew's innocence might not be doubted; and if he were innocent,
with what blind fury the power had been exercised! A whole family blotted out
to atone an accident! The thought shocked him.
There is no wiser
providence than that our occupations, however rude or bloody, cannot wear us
out morally; that such qualities as justice and mercy, if they really possess
us, continue to live on under them, like flowers under the snow. The tribune
could be inexorable, else he had not been fit for the usages of his calling; he
could also be just; and to excite his sense of wrong was to put him in the way
to right the wrong. The crews of the ships in which he served came after a time
to speak of him as the good tribune. Shrewd readers will not want a better
definition of his character.
In this instance
there were many circumstances certainly in the young man's favor, and some to
be supposed. Possibly Arrius knew Valerius Gratus without loving him. Possibly
he had known the elder Hur. In the course of his appeal, Judah had asked him of
that; and, as will be noticed, he had made no reply.
For once the
tribune was at loss, and hesitated. His power was ample. He was monarch of the
ship. His prepossessions all moved him to mercy. His faith was won. Yet, he
said to himself, there was no haste - or, rather, there was haste to Cythera;
the best rower could not then be spared; he would wait; he would learn more; he
would at least be sure this was the prince Ben-Hur, and that he was of a right
disposition. Ordinarily, slaves were liars.
"It is
enough," he said aloud. "Go back to thy place."
Ben-Hur bowed;
looked once more into the master's face, but saw nothing for hope. He turned
away slowly, looked back, and said,
"If thou
dost think of me again, O tribune, let it not be lost in thy mind that I prayed
thee only for word of my people - mother, sister."
He moved on.
Arrius followed
him with admiring eyes.
"Perpol!"
he thought. "With teaching, what a man for the arena! What a runner! Ye
gods! what an arm for the sword or the cestus! - Stay!" he said aloud.
Ben-Hur stopped,
and the tribune went to him.
"If thou
wert free, what wouldst thou do?"
"The noble
Arrius mocks me!" Judah said, with trembling lips.
"No; by the
gods, no!"
"Then I will
answer gladly. I would give myself to duty the first of life. I would know no
other. I would know no rest until my mother and Tirzah were restored to home. I
would give every day and hour to their happiness. I would wait upon them; never
a slave more faithful. They have lost much, but, by the God of my fathers, I
would find them more!"
The answer was
unexpected by the Roman. For a moment he lost his purpose.
"I spoke to
thy ambition," he said, recovering. "If thy mother and sister were
dead, or not to be found, what wouldst thou do?"
A distinct pallor
overspread Ben-Hur's face, and he looked over the sea. There was a struggle
with some strong feeling; when it was conquered, he turned to the tribune.
"What
pursuit would I follow?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Tribune, I
will tell thee truly. Only the night before the dreadful day of which I have
spoken, I obtained permission to be a soldier. I am of the same mind yet; and,
as in all the earth there is but one school of war, thither I would go."
"The
palaestra!" exclaimed Arrius.
"No; a Roman
camp."
"But thou
must first acquaint thyself with the use of arms."
Now a master may
never safely advise a slave. Arrius saw his indiscretion, and, in a breath,
chilled his voice and manner.
"Go
now," he said, "and do not build upon what has passed between us.
Perhaps I do but play with thee. Or" - he looked away musingly -”or, if
thou dost think of it with any hope, choose between the renown of a gladiator
and the service of a soldier. The former may come of the favor of the emperor;
there is no reward for thee in the latter. Thou art not a Roman. Go!"
A short while
after Ben-Hur was upon his bench again.
A man's task is
always light if his heart is light. Handling the oar did not seem so toilsome
to Judah. A hope had come to him, like a singing bird. He could hardly see the
visitor or hear its song; that it was there, though, he knew; his feelings told
him so. The caution of the tribune -”Perhaps I do but play with thee" -
was dismissed often as it recurred to his mind. That he had been called by the
great man and asked his story was the bread upon which he fed his hungry
spirit. Surely something good would come of it. The light about his bench was
clear and bright with promises, and he prayed.
"O God! I am
a true son of the Israel thou hast so loved! Help me, I pray thee!"
CHAPTER IV
In the Bay of
Antemona, east of Cythera the island, the hundred galleys assembled. There the
tribune gave one day to inspection. He sailed then to Naxos, the largest of the
Cyclades, midway the coasts of Greece and Asia, like a great stone planted in
the centre of a highway, from which he could challenge everything that passed;
at the same time, he would be in position to go after the pirates instantly,
whether they were in the AEgean or out on the Mediterranean.
As the fleet, in
order, rowed in towards the mountain shores of the island, a galley was
descried coming from the north. Arrius went to meet it. She proved to be a
transport just from Byzantium, and from her commander he learned the
particulars of which he stood in most need.
The pirates were
from all the farther shores of the Euxine. Even Tanais, at the mouth of the
river which was supposed to feed Palus Maeotis, was represented among them.
Their preparations had been with the greatest secrecy. The first known of them
was their appearance off the entrance to the Thracian Bosphorus, followed by
the destruction of the fleet in station there. Thence to the outlet of the
Hellespont everything afloat had fallen their prey. There were quite sixty
galleys in the squadron, all well manned and supplied. A few were biremes, the
rest stout triremes. A Greek was in command, and the pilots, said to be
familiar with all the Eastern seas, were Greek. The plunder had been
incalculable. The panic, consequently, was not on the sea alone; cities, with
closed gates, sent their people nightly to the walls. Traffic had almost
ceased.
Where were the
pirates now?
To this question,
of most interest to Arrius, he received answer.
After sacking
Hephaestia, on the island of Lemnos, the enemy had coursed across to the
Thessalian group, and, by last account, disappeared in the gulfs between Euboea
and Hellas.
Such were the
tidings.
Then the people
of the island, drawn to the hill-tops by the rare spectacle of a hundred ships
careering in united squadron, beheld the advance division suddenly turn to the
north, and the others follow, wheeling upon the same point like cavalry in a
column. News of the piratical descent had reached them, and now, watching the
white sails until they faded from sight up between Rhene and Syros, the
thoughtful among them took comfort, and were grateful. What Rome seized with
strong hand she always defended: in return for their taxes, she gave them
safety.
The tribune was
more than pleased with the enemy's movements; he was doubly thankful to
Fortune. She had brought swift and sure intelligence, and had lured his foes
into the waters where, of all others, destruction was most assured. He knew the
havoc one galley could play in a broad sea like the Mediterranean, and the
difficulty of finding and overhauling her; he knew, also, how those very
circumstances would enhance the service and glory if, at one blow, he could put
a finish to the whole piratical array.
If the reader
will take a map of Greece and the AEgean, he will notice the island of Euboea
lying along the classic coast like a rampart against Asia, leaving a channel
between it and the continent quite a hundred and twenty miles in length, and
scarcely an average of eight in width. The inlet on the north had admitted the
fleet of Xerxes, and now it received the bold raiders from the Euxine. The
towns along the Pelasgic and Meliac gulfs were rich and their plunder
seductive. All things considered, therefore, Arrius judged that the robbers
might be found somewhere below Thermopylae. Welcoming the chance, he resolved
to enclose them north and south, to do which not an hour could be lost; even
the fruits and wines and women of Naxos must be left behind. So he sailed away
without stop or tack until, a little before nightfall, Mount Ocha was seen
upreared against the sky, and the pilot reported the Euboean coast.
At a signal the
fleet rested upon its oars. When the movement was resumed, Arrius led a
division of fifty of the galleys, intending to take them up the channel, while
another division, equally strong, turned their prows to the outer or seaward
side of the island, with orders to make all haste to the upper inlet, and
descend sweeping the waters.
To be sure,
neither division was equal in number to the pirates; but each had advantages in
compensation, among them, by no means least, a discipline impossible to a
lawless horde, however brave. Besides, it was a shrewd count on the tribune's
side, if, peradventure, one should be defeated, the other would find the enemy
shattered by his victory, and in condition to be easily overwhelmed.
Meantime Ben-Hur
kept his bench, relieved every six hours. The rest in the Bay of Antemona had
freshened him, so that the oar was not troublesome, and the chief on the
platform found no fault.
People,
generally, are not aware of the ease of mind there is in knowing where they
are, and where they are going. The sensation of being lost is a keen distress;
still worse is the feeling one has in driving blindly into unknown places.
Custom had dulled the feeling with Ben-Hur, but only measurably. Pulling away
hour after hour, sometimes days and nights together, sensible all the time that
the galley was gliding swiftly along some of the many tracks of the broad sea,
the longing to know where he was, and whither going, was always present with
him; but now it seemed quickened by the hope which had come to new life in his
breast since the interview with the tribune. The narrower the abiding-place
happens to be, the more intense is the longing; and so he found. He seemed to
hear every sound of the ship in labor, and listened to each one as if it were a
voice come to tell him something; he looked to the grating overhead, and
through it into the light of which so small a portion was his, expecting, he
knew not what; and many times he caught himself on the point of yielding to the
impulse to speak to the chief on the platform, than which no circumstance of
battle would have astonished that dignitary more.
In his long
service, by watching the shifting of the meager sunbeams upon the cabin floor
when the ship was under way, he had come to know, generally, the quarter into
which she was sailing. This, of course, was only of clear days like those
good-fortune was sending the tribune. The experience had not failed him in the
period succeeding the departure from Cythera. Thinking they were tending
towards the old Judean country, he was sensitive to every variation from the
course. With a pang, he had observed the sudden change northward which, as has
been noticed, took place near Naxos: the cause, however, he could not even
conjecture; for it must be remembered that, in common with his fellow-slaves,
he knew nothing of the situation, and had no interest in the voyage. His place
was at the oar, and he was held there inexorably, whether at anchor or under
sail. Once only in three years had he been permitted an outlook from the deck.
The occasion we have seen. He had no idea that, following the vessel he was
helping drive, there was a great squadron close at hand and in beautiful order;
no more did he know the object of which it was in pursuit.
When the sun,
going down, withdrew his last ray from the cabin, the galley still held
northward. Night fell, yet Ben-Hur could discern no change. About that time the
smell of incense floated down the gangways from the deck.
"The tribune
is at the altar," he thought. "Can it be we are going into
battle?"
He became
observant.
Now he had been
in many battles without having seen one. From his bench he had heard them above
and about him, until he was familiar with all their notes, almost as a singer
with a song. So, too, he had become acquainted with many of the preliminaries
of an engagement, of which, with a Roman as well as a Greek, the most
invariable was the sacrifice to the gods. The rites were the same as those
performed at the beginning of a voyage, and to him, when noticed, they were
always an admonition.
A battle, it
should be observed, possessed for him and his fellow-slaves of the oar an
interest unlike that of the sailor and marine; it came, not of the danger
encountered but of the fact that defeat, if survived, might bring an alteration
of condition - possibly freedom - at least a change of masters, which might be
for the better.
In good time the
lanterns were lighted and hung by the stairs, and the tribune came down from
the deck. At his word the marines put on their armor. At his word again, the
machines were looked to, and spears, javelins, and arrows, in great sheaves,
brought and laid upon the floor, together with jars of inflammable oil, and
baskets of cotton balls wound loose like the wicking of candles. And when,
finally, Ben-Hur saw the tribune mount his platform and don his armor, and get
his helmet and shield out, the meaning of the preparations might not be any
longer doubted, and he made ready for the last ignominy of his service.
To every bench,
as a fixture, there was a chain with heavy anklets. These the hortator
proceeded to lock upon the oarsmen, going from number to number, leaving no
choice but to obey, and, in event of disaster, no possibility of escape.
In the cabin,
then, a silence fell, broken, at first, only by the sough of the oars turning
in the leathern cases. Every man upon the benches felt the shame, Ben-Hur more
keenly than his companions. He would have put it away at any price. Soon the
clanking of the fetters notified him of the progress the chief was making in
his round. He would come to him in turn; but would not the tribune interpose
for him?
The thought may
be set down to vanity or selfishness, as the reader pleases; it certainly, at
that moment, took possession of Ben-Hur. He believed the Roman would interpose;
anyhow, the circumstance would test the man's feelings. If, intent upon the
battle, he would but think of him, it would be proof of his opinion formed -
proof that he had been tacitly promoted above his associates in misery - such
proof as would justify hope.
Ben-Hur waited
anxiously. The interval seemed like an age. At every turn of the oar he looked
towards the tribune, who, his simple preparations made, lay down upon the couch
and composed himself to rest; whereupon number sixty chid himself, and laughed
grimly, and resolved not to look that way again.
The hortator
approached. Now he was at number one - the rattle of the iron links sounded
horribly. At last number sixty! Calm from despair, Ben-Hur held his oar at
poise, and gave his foot to the officer. Then the tribune stirred - sat up -
beckoned to the chief.
A strong
revulsion seized the Jew. From the hortator, the great man glanced at him; and
when he dropped his oar all the section of the ship on his side seemed aglow.
He heard nothing of what was said; enough that the chain hung idly from its
staple in the bench, and that the chief, going to his seat, began to beat the
sounding-board. The notes of the gavel were never so like music. With his
breast against the leaded handle, he pushed with all his might - pushed until
the shaft bent as if about to break.
The chief went to
the tribune, and, smiling, pointed to number sixty.
"What
strength!" he said.
"And what
spirit!" the tribune answered. "Perpol! He is better without the
irons. Put them on him no more."
So saying, he
stretched himself upon the couch again.
The ship sailed
on hour after hour under the oars in water scarcely rippled by the wind. And
the people not on duty slept, Arrius in his place, the marines on the floor.
Once - twice -
Ben-Hur was relieved; but he could not sleep. Three years of night, and through
the darkness a sunbeam at last! At sea adrift and lost, and now land! Dead so
long, and, lo! the thrill and stir of resurrection. Sleep was not for such an
hour. Hope deals with the future; now and the past are but servants that wait
on her with impulse and suggestive circumstance. Starting from the favor of the
tribune, she carried him forward indefinitely. The wonder is, not that things
so purely imaginative as the results she points us to can make us so happy, but
that we can receive them as so real. They must be as gorgeous poppies under the
influence of which, under the crimson and purple and gold, reason lies down the
while, and is not. Sorrows assuaged, home and the fortunes of his house
restored; mother and sister in his arms once more - such were the central ideas
which made him happier that moment than he had ever been. That he was rushing,
as on wings, into horrible battle had, for the time, nothing to do with his
thoughts. The things thus in hope were unmixed with doubts - they WERE. Hence
his joy so full, so perfect, there was no room in his heart for revenge.
Messala, Gratus, Rome, and all the bitter, passionate memories connected with
them, were as dead plagues - miasms of the earth above which he floated, far
and safe, listening to singing stars.
The deeper
darkness before the dawn was upon the waters, and all things going well with
the Astroea, when a man, descending from the deck, walked swiftly to the
platform where the tribune slept, and awoke him. Arrius arose, put on his
helmet, sword, and shield, and went to the commander of the marines.
"The pirates
are close by. Up and ready!" he said, and passed to the stairs, calm,
confident, insomuch that one might have thought, "Happy fellow! Apicius
has set a feast for him."
