The Gladiator

Macro shrugged.' Then we'll just have to bail the water out faster than it gets in.'

'We can try'

'Bugger try; we will, ' Macro said firmly.

The mate nodded slightly. 'If you say so. But once it's safe enough I'll have to go into the hold and examine the hull for leaks. Then try to stop them up if I can.'

What's the danger of going in there now?'

'There's still loose cargo in there, Centurion. The swell's getting up and I don't fancy being crushed or buried alive if the Horus heaves too far to one side. We have to get as much of the cargo out as we can first.'

'Fair point. When it's safe to go in. I'll give you a hand.' Macro glanced round the deck and his gaze fixed on the shattered stump of the broken mast. 'Something else occurs to me.'

'Sir?'

'Keeping afloat is one problem, but how are we going to get this ship under way again?'

The mate indicated a spar lashed along one of the sides of the vessel. 'We'll have to jury - riga new mast. There's some spare cable and an old sail for'ard. Then we'll need to rig a new rudder and tiller from what's left of the cargo hatch. Should give us steerage way, but she'll be slow, and I doubt if we can weather any storm.' He shivered.

'Or any wave half the size of the one that hit us.'

'That'll have to do then. Soon as we get going we'll make for the nearest harbour on Crete.'

The mate thought a moment and nodded. 'Matala's the best bet.'

'Matala it is then. Now back to work.'

As soon as he felt that the hold was safe enough, the mate climbed carefully across the remaining cargo and waded towards the side of the hull. Macro lowered himself down and followed the mate, carrying a sack of tarry strips of old sailcloth. Hardly any of the light from the stars filtered into the hold, and the steady creak of the timbers and rushing swirl of water on both sides of the hull was unnerving.

'This way' the mate called. 'Stay close to me.'

'I will, don't worry about that.'

The mate headed forward, picking his way over the timber ribs of the Horus. Then he steadily worked his way aft, feeling for any leaks and holes. Every so often he paused to check and then asked Macro for a piece of cloth, and the two of them squatted in the cold water and did their best to stuff the thick material into the small gaps that had opened in the seams. When they had worked their way round the stern and back to the bows and groped their way to the cargo hatch, Macro climbed the ladder on to the deck and slumped down, cold and exhausted.

'Will that keep the water out?' he asked the mate.

'It'll help. It's the best we can dofor now. Once we have the jury mast rigged, we'll have to organise two watches to take turns at bailing the water out.'

'Fine. I'll lead one. Cato can take the other. I want you to concentrate on keeping the ship afloat and getting us to port.'

The mate sighed. 'I'll do the best I can, Centurion.'

'Of course you will. If the ship sinks and we all drown, then I'll have your bloody guts for garters.' He slapped the mate on the back.

'Let's get this mast up.'

With the Roman officers' help, the crewmen untied the spar and positioned the butt up against the stump of the mast. Then, with four ropes tied to the far end, Macro and five men heaved the spar up. The mate, with two strong men, kept the butt in position as Cato oversaw two teams of men heaving on the ropes. Slowly the spar rose up, carefully guided into a vertical position against the mast's stump as Macro and his men took the other two ropes to steady it. At once, the mate and his men hurriedly lashed the spar to the stump, and then tied more ropes around it, as tightly as possible, until satisfied that the makeshift mast was as firm as it could be. There was no rest for the crew as they improvised the necessary shrouds, sheets and a cross spar from the ship's sweep oars, lashed together. Lastly they fetched out the old sail from a locker and fastened it to the spar. The makeshift rudder was lowered over the stern and a man assigned to the tiller before the sail was carefully hoisted up the mast.

A light breeze filled the sail with a rippling series of thuds, as the mate looked on apprehensively. Then he gave the order to sheet home, and the Horus began to make way through the gentle swell, just as the first glimmer of light appeared on the horizon. On deck, those who were not helping to crew the ship lay down to rest, exhausted. Senator Sempronius cradled his daughter's head and shoulders in his lap and covered her with his cloak. Once the mate was satisfied that the ship was performing as well as it could under the rough repairs that had been carried out through the night, he came to report to Macro and Cato.

'We're holding a course along the coast, sir. Should make Matala before the end of the day. We can put in for repairs there.'

'Good job.' Macro smiled. 'You've done well.'