In the Heart of Darkness

"Excuse me?" asked Eusebius, looking up from his work. The young artificer's face seemed a bit green. He was obviously feeling ill at ease from the rocking motion of the galley. Especially since he was standing upon the fighting platform amidships, engaged in the delicate task of opening firebomb crates. The platform was elevated ten feet above the deck, which only accentuated the ship's unsteadiness.

"Hurry it up, Eusebius," growled John of Rhodes. The naval officer pointed to starboard. "We're going to have to deal with that before we do anything else."

Eusebius straightened, peering near-sightedly toward the war galley approaching from the south.

"Oh, Christ," he muttered. "I can't see it very well, but—is that what I think it is?"

John nodded gloomily.

"Yeah, it's a dromon. A hundred fighting soldiers and at least a hundred and fifty rowers—good ones, too, judging from their speed. And they've already lowered the sails."

Eusebius paled. Dromons were the fastest ships afloat—at least, during the period before their rowers tired—and by far the most maneuverable. Pure warships.

John of Rhodes scampered down the ladder to the main deck and scurried aft, where he hastily began consulting with his steering officer. In his absence, Eusebius began unpacking another crate of firebombs. The artillerymen on the platform offered to help, but he refused their assistance. He was probably being too cautious—once the battle started, the artillerymen would have to do their own loading—but Eusebius knew better than anyone just how dangerous those bombs could be if they were accidentally ruptured.

Besides, it gave him something to do besides worry.

And there was a lot to worry about. Eusebius was no seaman, but he had picked up enough from John of Rhodes over the past months to understand the seriousness of their predicament.

The artificer glanced at the two scorpions set up on the ship's fighting platform—the "wood-castle," as it was called. Then, more slowly, he studied the ship itself.

It was not a happy study.

A full-sized dromon, like the one approaching them, had a crew of two to three hundred men. A two-banked galley, that ship had 25 oars in each bank—100 in all. Fifty rowers were permanently assigned to the lower bank, one man to an oar. The rest of the crew, who would number at least 150, were assigned to the fighting deck. A hundred of those would man the upper bank of oars, two men to an oar, while the rest served as archers and boarders. In the event of a drawn-out pursuit or engagement, the upper rowers would switch places with the soldiers, thus keeping the men from becoming exhausted.

Technically, Eusebius knew, their ship was also classed as a dromon, an oared war galley. But it was the medium-sized type called a pamphylos. They only had eighty oars, twenty on each bank. And there was only room for a single rower on the upper oars.

A hundred and fifty rowers versus eighty. Despite the greater weight of the approaching dromon, it would still be faster than their own galley. And they were further handicapped because of the modifications which John had made in their warship.

John had known he would be heavily outnumbered in the coming battle—one ship against twenty, probably more. So he had decided to use his single ship as a pure artillery vessel, bombarding the enemy fleet at long range with his firebombs. For that reason, they only carried twelve fighting men—just enough to operate the two scorpions. They would be hopelessly outmatched in the event of a boarding.

True, they also carried a double crew of rowers. If John's battle plan worked, his men would be rowing for long periods. So he had loaded the ships with relief rowers. That would give them a greater endurance than the crew of the approaching dromon, but the weight of the extra rowers would also slow them down.

Not to mention—

Eusebius studied the fighting platform he was standing on. The wood castle was larger and heavier than normal for this size war galley. It needed to be in order to provide the necessary support and room for the two scorpions which John had placed there. But that extra size also added weight. As did—

Eusebius lowered his gaze to the deck of the ship itself. Normally, Byzantine war galleys were of the modern design called aphract—"unarmored." Since modern naval tactics called for boarding as well as ramming, the rowers/soldiers on the upper banks were protected by nothing more substantial than a light frame rigged along the gangways to which they attached their shields.