CHAPTER V
Every soul
aboard, even the ship, awoke. Officers went to their quarters. The marines took
arms, and were led out, looking in all respects like legionaries. Sheaves of
arrows and armfuls of javelins were carried on deck. By the central stairs the
oil-tanks and fire-balls were set ready for use. Additional lanterns were
lighted. Buckets were filled with water. The rowers in relief assembled under
guard in front of the chief. As Providence would have it, Ben-Hur was one of
the latter. Overhead he heard the muffled noises of the final preparations - of
the sailors furling sail, spreading the nettings, unslinging the machines, and
hanging the armor of bull-hide over the side. Presently quiet settled about the
galley again; quiet full of vague dread and expectation, which, interpreted,
means READY.
At a signal
passed down from the deck, and communicated to the hortator by a petty officer
stationed on the stairs, all at once the oars stopped.
What did it mean?
Of the hundred
and twenty slaves chained to the benches, not one but asked himself the
question. They were without incentive. Patriotism, love of honor, sense of
duty, brought them no inspiration. They felt the thrill common to men rushed
helpless and blind into danger. It may be supposed the dullest of them, poising
his oar, thought of all that might happen, yet could promise himself nothing;
for victory would but rivet his chains the firmer, while the chances of the
ship were his; sinking or on fire, he was doomed to her fate.
Of the situation
without they might not ask. And who were the enemy? And what if they were
friends, brethren, countrymen? The reader, carrying the suggestion forward,
will see the necessity which governed the Roman when, in such emergencies, he
locked the hapless wretches to their seats.
There was little
time, however, for such thought with them. A sound like the rowing of galleys
astern attracted Ben-Hur, and the Astroea rocked as if in the midst of
countering waves. The idea of a fleet at hand broke upon him - a fleet in
manoeuvre - forming probably for attack. His blood started with the fancy.
Another signal
came down from the deck. The oars dipped, and the galley started imperceptibly.
No sound from without, none from within, yet each man in the cabin
instinctively poised himself for a shock; the very ship seemed to catch the
sense, and hold its breath, and go crouched tiger-like.
In such a
situation time is inappreciable; so that Ben-Hur could form no judgment of
distance gone. At last there was a sound of trumpets on deck, full, clear, long
blown. The chief beat the sounding-board until it rang; the rowers reached
forward full length, and, deepening the dip of their oars, pulled suddenly with
all their united force. The galley, quivering in every timber, answered with a
leap. Other trumpets joined in the clamor - all from the rear, none forward -
from the latter quarter only a rising sound of voices in tumult heard briefly.
There was a mighty blow; the rowers in front of the chief's platform reeled,
some of them fell; the ship bounded back, recovered, and rushed on more
irresistibly than before. Shrill and high arose the shrieks of men in terror;
over the blare of trumpets, and the grind and crash of the collision, they
arose; then under his feet, under the keel, pounding, rumbling, breaking to
pieces, drowning, Ben-Hur felt something overridden. The men about him looked
at each other afraid. A shout of triumph from the deck - the beak of the Roman
had won! But who were they whom the sea had drunk? Of what tongue, from what
land were they?
No pause, no
stay! Forward rushed the Astroea; and, as it went, some sailors ran down, and
plunging the cotton balls into the oil-tanks, tossed them dripping to comrades
at the head of the stairs: fire was to be added to other horrors of the combat.
Directly the
galley heeled over so far that the oarsmen on the uppermost side with
difficulty kept their benches. Again the hearty Roman cheer, and with it
despairing shrieks. An opposing vessel, caught by the grappling-hooks of the
great crane swinging from the prow, was being lifted into the air that it might
be dropped and sunk.
The shouting
increased on the right hand and on the left; before, behind, swelled an
indescribable clamor. Occasionally there was a crash, followed by sudden peals
of fright, telling of other ships ridden down, and their crews drowned in the
vortexes.
Nor was the fight
all on one side. Now and then a Roman in armor was borne down the hatchway, and
laid bleeding, sometimes dying, on the floor.
Sometimes, also,
puffs of smoke, blended with steam, and foul with the scent of roasting human
flesh, poured into the cabin, turning the dimming light into yellow murk.
Gasping for breath the while, Ben-Hur knew they were passing through the cloud
of a ship on fire, and burning up with the rowers chained to the benches.
The Astroea all
this time was in motion. Suddenly she stopped. The oars forward were dashed
from the hands of the rowers, and the rowers from their benches. On deck, then,
a furious trampling, and on the sides a grinding of ships afoul of each other.
For the first time the beating of the gavel was lost in the uproar. Men sank on
the floor in fear or looked about seeking a hiding-place. In the midst of the
panic a body plunged or was pitched headlong down the hatchway, falling near
Ben-Hur. He beheld the half-naked carcass, a mass of hair blackening the face,
and under it a shield of bull-hide and wicker-work - a barbarian from the
white-skinned nations of the North whom death had robbed of plunder and
revenge. How came he there? An iron hand had snatched him from the opposing
deck - no, the Astroea had been boarded! The Romans were fighting on their own
deck? A chill smote the young Jew: Arrius was hard pressed - he might be
defending his own life. If he should be slain! God of Abraham forefend! The
hopes and dreams so lately come, were they only hopes and dreams? Mother and sister
- house - home - Holy Land - was he not to see them, after all? The tumult
thundered above him; he looked around; in the cabin all was confusion - the
rowers on the benches paralyzed; men running blindly hither and thither; only
the chief on his seat imperturbable, vainly beating the sounding-board, and
waiting the orders of the tribune - in the red murk illustrating the matchless
discipline which had won the world.
The example had a
good effect upon Ben-Hur. He controlled himself enough to think. Honor and duty
bound the Roman to the platform; but what had he to do with such motives then?
The bench was a thing to run from; while, if he were to die a slave, who would
be the better of the sacrifice? With him living was duty, if not honor. His
life belonged to his people. They arose before him never more real: he saw
them, their arms outstretched; he heard them imploring him. And he would go to
them. He started - stopped. Alas! a Roman judgment held him in doom. While it
endured, escape would be profitless. In the wide, wide earth there was no place
in which he would be safe from the imperial demand; upon the land none, nor
upon the sea. Whereas he required freedom according to the forms of law, so
only could he abide in Judea and execute the filial purpose to which he would
devote himself: in other land he would not live. Dear God! How he had waited
and watched and prayed for such a release! And how it had been delayed! But at
last he had seen it in the promise of the tribune. What else the great man's
meaning? And if the benefactor so belated should now be slain! The dead come
not back to redeem the pledges of the living. It should not be - Arrius should
not die. At least, better perish with him than survive a galley-slave.
Once more Ben-Hur
looked around. Upon the roof of the cabin the battle yet beat; against the
sides the hostile vessels yet crushed and grided. On the benches, the slaves
struggled to tear loose from their chains, and, finding their efforts vain,
howled like madmen; the guards had gone upstairs; discipline was out, panic in.
No, the chief kept his chair, unchanged, calm as ever - except the gavel,
weaponless. Vainly with his clangor he filled the lulls in the din. Ben-Hur
gave him a last look, then broke away - not in flight, but to seek the tribune.
A very short
space lay between him and the stairs of the hatchway aft. He took it with a
leap, and was half-way up the steps - up far enough to catch a glimpse of the
sky blood-red with fire, of the ships alongside, of the sea covered with ships
and wrecks, of the fight closed in about the pilot's quarter, the assailants
many, the defenders few - when suddenly his foothold was knocked away, and he
pitched backward. The floor, when he reached it, seemed to be lifting itself
and breaking to pieces; then, in a twinkling, the whole after-part of the hull
broke asunder, and, as if it had all the time been lying in wait, the sea,
hissing and foaming, leaped in, and all became darkness and surging water to
Ben-Hur.
It cannot be said
that the young Jew helped himself in this stress. Besides his usual strength,
he had the indefinite extra force which nature keeps in reserve for just such
perils to life; yet the darkness, and the whirl and roar of water, stupefied
him. Even the holding his breath was involuntary.
The influx of the
flood tossed him like a log forward into the cabin, where he would have drowned
but for the refluence of the sinking motion. As it was, fathoms under the
surface the hollow mass vomited him forth, and he arose along with the loosed
debris. In the act of rising, he clutched something, and held to it. The time
he was under seemed an age longer than it really was; at last he gained the
top; with a great gasp he filled his lungs afresh, and, tossing the water from
his hair and eyes, climbed higher upon the plank he held, and looked about him.
Death had pursued
him closely under the waves; he found it waiting for him when he was risen -
waiting multiform.
Smoke lay upon
the sea like a semitransparent fog, through which here and there shone cores of
intense brilliance. A quick intelligence told him that they were ships on fire.
The battle was yet on; nor could he say who was victor. Within the radius of
his vision now and then ships passed, shooting shadows athwart lights. Out of
the dun clouds farther on he caught the crash of other ships colliding. The
danger, however, was closer at hand. When the Astroea went down, her deck, it
will be recollected, held her own crew, and the crews of the two galleys which
had attacked her at the same time, all of whom were ingulfed. Many of them came
to the surface together, and on the same plank or support of whatever kind
continued the combat, begun possibly in the vortex fathoms down. Writhing and
twisting in deadly embrace, sometimes striking with sword or javelin, they kept
the sea around them in agitation, at one place inky-black, at another aflame
with fiery reflections. With their struggles he had nothing to do; they were
all his enemies: not one of them but would kill him for the plank upon which he
floated. He made haste to get away.
About that time
he heard oars in quickest movement, and beheld a galley coming down upon him.
The tall prow seemed doubly tall, and the red light playing upon its gilt and
carving gave it an appearance of snaky life. Under its foot the water churned
to flying foam.
He struck out,
pushing the plank, which was very broad and unmanageable. Seconds were precious
- half a second might save or lose him. In the crisis of the effort, up from
the sea, within arm's reach, a helmet shot like a gleam of gold. Next came two
hands with fingers extended - large hands were they, and strong - their hold
once fixed, might not be loosed. Ben-Hur swerved from them appalled. Up rose
the helmet and the head it encased - then two arms, which began to beat the
water wildly - the head turned back, and gave the face to the light. The mouth
gaping wide; the eyes open, but sightless, and the bloodless pallor of a
drowning man - never anything more ghastly! Yet he gave a cry of joy at the sight,
and as the face was going under again, he caught the sufferer by the chain
which passed from the helmet beneath the chin, and drew him to the plank.
The man was
Arrius, the tribune.
For a while the
water foamed and eddied violently about Ben-Hur, taxing all his strength to
hold to the support and at the same time keep the Roman's head above the
surface. The galley had passed, leaving the two barely outside the stroke of
its oars. Right through the floating men, over heads helmeted as well as heads
bare, she drove, in her wake nothing but the sea sparkling with fire. A muffled
crash, succeeded by a great outcry, made the rescuer look again from his
charge. A certain savage pleasure touched his heart - the Astroea was avenged.
After that the
battle moved on. Resistance turned to flight. But who were the victors? Ben-Hur
was sensible how much his freedom and the life of the tribune depended upon
that event. He pushed the plank under the latter until it floated him, after
which all his care was to keep him there. The dawn came slowly. He watched its
growing hopefully, yet sometimes afraid. Would it bring the Romans or the
pirates? If the pirates, his charge was lost.
At last morning
broke in full, the air without a breath. Off to the left he saw the land, too
far to think of attempting to make it. Here and there men were adrift like
himself. In spots the sea was blackened by charred and sometimes smoking
fragments. A galley up a long way was lying to with a torn sail hanging from
the tilted yard, and the oars all idle. Still farther away he could discern
moving specks, which he thought might be ships in flight or pursuit, or they
might be white birds a-wing.
An hour passed
thus. His anxiety increased. If relief came not speedily, Arrius would die.
Sometimes he seemed already dead, he lay so still. He took the helmet off, and
then, with greater difficulty, the cuirass; the heart he found fluttering. He
took hope at the sign, and held on. There was nothing to do but wait, and,
after the manner of his people, pray.
CHAPTER VI
The throes of
recovery from drowning are more painful than the drowning. These Arrius passed
through, and, at length, to Ben-Hur's delight, reached the point of speech.
Gradually, from
incoherent questions as to where he was, and by whom and how he had been saved,
he reverted to the battle. The doubt of the victory stimulated his faculties to
full return, a result aided not a little by a long rest - such as could be had
on their frail support. After a while he became talkative.
"Our rescue,
I see, depends upon the result of the fight. I see also what thou hast done for
me. To speak fairly, thou hast saved my life at the risk of thy own. I make the
acknowledgment broadly; and, whatever cometh, thou hast my thanks. More than
that, if fortune doth but serve me kindly, and we get well out of this peril, I
will do thee such favor as becometh a Roman who hath power and opportunity to
prove his gratitude. Yet, yet it is to be seen if, with thy good intent, thou
hast really done me a kindness; or, rather, speaking to thy good-will" -
he hesitated -”I would exact of thee a promise to do me, in a certain event,
the greatest favor one man can do another - and of that let me have thy pledge
now."
"If the
thing be not forbidden, I will do it," Ben-Hur replied.
Arrius rested
again.
"Art thou,
indeed, a son of Hur, the Jew?" he next asked.
"It is as I
have said."
"I knew thy
father -”
Judah drew
himself nearer, for the tribune's voice was weak - he drew nearer, and listened
eagerly - at last he thought to hear of home.
"I knew him,
and loved him," Arrius continued.
There was another
pause, during which something diverted the speaker's thought.
"It cannot
be," he proceeded, "that thou, a son of his, hast not heard of Cato
and Brutus. They were very great men, and never as great as in death. In their
dying, they left this law - A Roman may not survive his good-fortune. Art thou
listening?"
"I
hear."
"It is a
custom of gentlemen in Rome to wear a ring. There is one on my hand. Take it
now."
He held the hand
to Judah, who did as he asked.
"Now put it
on thine own hand."
Ben-Hur did so.
"The trinket
hath its uses," said Arrius next. "I have property and money. I am
accounted rich even in Rome. I have no family. Show the ring to my freedman,
who hath control in my absence; you will find him in a villa near Misenum. Tell
him how it came to thee, and ask anything, or all he may have; he will not
refuse the demand. If I live, I will do better by thee. I will make thee free,
and restore thee to thy home and people; or thou mayst give thyself to the
pursuit that pleaseth thee most. Dost thou hear?"
"I could not
choose but hear."
"Then pledge
me. By the gods -”
"Nay, good
tribune, I am a Jew."
"By thy God,
then, or in the form most sacred to those of thy faith - pledge me to do what I
tell thee now, and as I tell thee; I am waiting, let me have thy promise."
"Noble
Arrius, I am warned by thy manner to expect something of gravest concern. Tell
me thy wish first."
"Wilt thou
promise then?"
"That were
to give the pledge, and - Blessed be the God of my fathers! yonder cometh a
ship!"
"In what
direction?"
"From the
north."
"Canst thou
tell her nationality by outward signs?"
"No. My
service hath been at the oars."
"Hath she a
flag?"
"I cannot
see one."
Arrius remained
quiet some time, apparently in deep reflection.
"Does the
ship hold this way yet?" he at length asked.
"Still this
way."
"Look for
the flag now."
"She hath
none."
"Nor any
other sign?"
"She hath a
sail set, and is of three banks, and cometh swiftly - that is all I can say of
her."
"A Roman in
triumph would have out many flags. She must be an enemy. Hear now," said
Arrius, becoming grave again, "hear, while yet I may speak. If the galley
be a pirate, thy life is safe; they may not give thee freedom; they may put
thee to the oar again; but they will not kill thee. On the other hand, I -”
The tribune
faltered.
"Perpol!"
he continued, resolutely. "I am too old to submit to dishonor. In Rome,
let them tell how Quintus Arrius, as became a Roman tribune, went down with his
ship in the midst of the foe. This is what I would have thee do. If the galley
prove a pirate, push me from the plank and drown me. Dost thou hear? Swear thou
wilt do it."
"I will not
swear," said Ben-Hur, firmly; "neither will I do the deed. The Law,
which is to me most binding, O tribune, would make me answerable for thy life.
Take back the ring" - he took the seal from his finger -”take it back, and
all thy promises of favor in the event of delivery from this peril. The
judgment which sent me to the oar for life made me a slave, yet I am not a
slave; no more am I thy freedman. I am a son of Israel, and this moment, at
least, my own master. Take back the ring."
Arrius remained
passive.
"Thou wilt
not?" Judah continued. "Not in anger, then, nor in any despite, but
to free myself from a hateful obligation, I will give thy gift to the sea. See,
O tribune!"
He tossed the
ring away. Arrius heard the splash where it struck and sank, though he did not
look.
"Thou hast
done a foolish thing," he said; "foolish for one placed as thou art.
I am not dependent upon thee for death. Life is a thread I can break without
thy help; and, if I do, what will become of thee? Men determined on death
prefer it at the hands of others, for the reason that the soul which Plato
giveth us is rebellious at the thought of self-destruction; that is all. If the
ship be a pirate, I will escape from the world. My mind is fixed. I am a Roman.
Success and honor are all in all. Yet I would have served thee; thou wouldst
not. The ring was the only witness of my will available in this situation. We
are both lost. I will die regretting the victory and glory wrested from me;
thou wilt live to die a little later, mourning the pious duties undone because
of this folly. I pity thee."
Ben-Hur saw the
consequences of his act more distinctly than before, yet he did not falter.
"In the
three years of my servitude, O tribune, thou wert the first to look upon me
kindly. No, no! There was another." The voice dropped, the eyes became
humid, and he saw plainly as if it were then before him the face of the boy who
helped him to a drink by the old well at Nazareth. "At least," he
proceeded, "thou wert the first to ask me who I was; and if, when I reached
out and caught thee, blind and sinking the last time, I, too, had thought of
the many ways in which thou couldst be useful to me in my wretchedness, still
the act was not all selfish; this I pray you to believe. Moreover, seeing as
God giveth me to know, the ends I dream of are to be wrought by fair means
alone. As a thing of conscience, I would rather die with thee than be thy
slayer. My mind is firmly set as thine; though thou wert to offer me all Rome,
O tribune, and it belonged to thee to make the gift good, I would not kill
thee. Thy Cato and Brutus were as little children compared to the Hebrew whose
law a Jew must obey."
"But my
request. Hast -”
"Thy command
would be of more weight, and that would not move me. I have said."
Both became
silent, waiting.
Ben-Hur looked
often at the coming ship. Arrius rested with closed eyes, indifferent.
"Art thou
sure she is an enemy?" Ben-Hur asked.
"I think
so," was the reply.
"She stops,
and puts a boat over the side."
"Dost thou
see her flag?"
"Is there no
other sign by which she may be known if Roman?"
"If Roman,
she hath a helmet over the mast's top."
"Then be of
cheer. I see the helmet."
Still Arrius was
not assured.
"The men in
the small boat are taking in the people afloat. Pirates are not humane."
"They may
need rowers," Arrius replied, recurring, possibly, to times when he had
made rescues for the purpose.
Ben-Hur was very
watchful of the actions of the strangers.
"The ship
moves off," he said.
"Whither?"
"Over on our
right there is a galley which I take to be deserted. The new-comer heads
towards it. Now she is alongside. Now she is sending men aboard."
Then Arrius
opened his eyes and threw off his calm.
"Thank thou
thy God," he said to Ben-Hur, after a look at the galleys, "thank
thou thy God, as I do my many gods. A pirate would sink, not save, yon ship. By
the act and the helmet on the mast I know a Roman. The victory is mine. Fortune
hath not deserted me. We are saved. Wave thy hand - call to them - bring them
quickly. I shall be duumvir, and thou! I knew thy father, and loved him. He was
a prince indeed. He taught me a Jew was not a barbarian. I will take thee with
me. I will make thee my son. Give thy God thanks, and call the sailors. Haste!
The pursuit must be kept. Not a robber shall escape. Hasten them!"
Judah raised
himself upon the plank, and waved his hand, and called with all his might; at
last he drew the attention of the sailors in the small boat, and they were
speedily taken up.
Arrius was
received on the galley with all the honors due a hero so the favorite of
Fortune. Upon a couch on the deck he heard the particulars of the conclusion of
the fight. When the survivors afloat upon the water were all saved and the
prize secured, he spread his flag of commandant anew, and hurried northward to
rejoin the fleet and perfect the victory. In due time the fifty vessels coming
down the channel closed in upon the fugitive pirates, and crushed them utterly;
not one escaped. To swell the tribune's glory, twenty galleys of the enemy were
captured.
Upon his return
from the cruise, Arrius had warm welcome on the mole at Misenum. The young man
attending him very early attracted the attention of his friends there; and to
their questions as to who he was the tribune proceeded in the most affectionate
manner to tell the story of his rescue and introduce the stranger, omitting
carefully all that pertained to the latter's previous history. At the end of
the narrative, he called Ben-Hur to him, and said, with a hand resting
affectionately upon his shoulder,
"Good
friends, this is my son and heir, who, as he is to take my property - if it be
the will of the gods that I leave any - shall be known to you by my name. I
pray you all to love him as you love me."
Speedily as
opportunity permitted, the adoption was formally perfected. And in such manner
the brave Roman kept his faith with Ben-Hur, giving him happy introduction into
the imperial world. The month succeeding Arrius's return, the armilustrium was
celebrated with the utmost magnificence in the theater of Scaurus. One side of
the structure was taken up with military trophies; among which by far the most
conspicuous and most admired were twenty prows, complemented by their
corresponding aplustra, cut bodily from as many galleys; and over them, so as
to be legible to the eighty thousand spectators in the seats, was this
inscription:
- - -
- - - - -
- - -
- - -
- - -
- - -
- - -
TAKEN FROM THE PIRATES IN THE GULF OF EURIPUS,
BY
QUINTUS ARRIUS,
DUUMVIR.
- - -
- - - - -
- - -
- - -
- - -
- - -
- - -
