The Gladiator

The burning agony in Cato's lungs seemed to last an eternity and then, as his vision began to fade, he was aware of a lighter patch in the dark water that surrounded him. He kicked out with the last of his failing strength and his heart strained with hope as the light grew and he knew he must be heading for the surface. Then, just as the pain was becoming so unbearable that Cato feared he might black out, there was an explosion of noise in his ears and he burst from the surface of the sea. At once he coughed up the water in his lungs in agonising gasps as he kicked feebly in an.effort to stay on the surface.

For a while his breath came in ragged gasps. Water slapped against his face and into his mouth, causing fresh bouts of spluttering and retching. His eyes stung so badly that he was forced to keep them shut as he struggled to stay afloat. The tunic and heavy military boots weighed him down and encumbered his efforts to stay on the surface. He realised that if he had been wearing anything more than this he would certainly have drowned. Slowly he recovered his breath, and then, as his heart ceased pounding in his ears, he blinked his eyes open and glimpsed around the choppy surface of the sea that surrounded him.

At first he saw nothing but water, then he turned his head and caught a glimpse of the coastline of Crete. It seemed to be miles away, and Cato doubted he had the strength to swim that far. Then something nudged his side and he swirled round in a panic. A length of the ship's spar, complete with a ragged strip of the sail and tendrils of rigging, bobbed on the surface beside him. He let out an explosive gasp of relief as he grabbed hold of the spar and rested his arms over it. While he rose and dipped on the swell, he took in the scene around him. The sea was dotted with debris from the Horus, as well as a handful of bodies.

For a moment Cato was struck by the horrific thought that he was the only survivor from the ship. All the others must have gone down with the vessel when the wave struck and swamped the merchantman. Macro... Julia, her father and Jesmiah, all gone, he thought in a blind panic as a deep groan welled up in his chest.

A fresh swell lifted Cato up, and then he saw the ship, or rather what was left of her. Some distance from him the hull floated very low in the water. The mast and stern post had been carried away, and in the gloom of the gathering dusk Cato could just make out a handful of dazed figures stumbling about on deck. He tried to call out, but all he could manage was a painful croak, and then a small wavelet splashed into his face and filled his mouth. Cato spluttered for a moment, tried to call out again, and then trod water, fighting off a surge of despair as the last of the day's light began to fail. Those on the ship could not see him. In any case, they would be too preoccupied with their own problems to look for survivors in the sea.

Cato trembled. The water was already cold enough, and he doubted that he had the strength to last through the night.

Clutching the wooden spar, Cato struck out towards the ship. It was hard going, but the prospect of being saved lent him desperate strength, enough to keep kicking out, working his way across the swell towards the Horus. His progress felt painstakingly slow, and he was fearful that darkness would soon be upon him and he would lose sight of the ship.

The distance gradually closed, and even though the night had settled across the sea, there was just enough starlight in the heavens to illuminate the darker outline of the ship against the black swell of the water. As he drew closer, Cato tried to call out again, but his feeble cry was drowned by the surge and hiss of the waves and the splashes coming from the side of the ship. Not far from the Horus he bumped into a wooden case floating low in the water. He steered it aside and continued to close up on the ship. Twofigures appeared above him, grunting as they struggled with a large amphora.

'On the count of three, ' a voice growled, and they began to swing the heavy jar to and fro. Cato recognised the voice well enough, but before he could try to shout a greeting, the sound died in his throat as he realised that the large jar would land right on top of him.

'Wait!' The shout ripped from his throat as he raised a hand and waved frantically to attract attention. 'Lower that bloody jar!'

'What the fuck?' Macro's voice carried down to the water. 'Cato?

That you?'

'Yes... yes. Now put the bloody thing down, before you drop it on my head!'

'What? Oh yes.' Macro turned back to the other man on deck.

'Easy there. Put the amphora down, careful like. Cato, wait there. I'll get a rope.'

'Where else would I go?' Cato grumbled.

A moment later Macro's dark form appeared above the rail and a rope splashed into the water.

Cato's cold fingers struggled to find the end of the rope. When he had it he held on as tightly as he could before muttering through clenched teeth, ' Ready '