I
During the last half-century the art of naval warfare had made great
progress in Greece. The Greek war-galley, or trireme, a vessel
propelled by three banks of oars, had always been furnished with a
sharp-pointed prow, for the purpose of ramming an opponent's ship; but
many years elapsed before the Greeks attained genuine skill in the use
of this formidable weapon. According to the ordinary method of
fighting, after the first shock of collision the affair was decided by
the hoplites, or heavy-armed infantry, stationed on the decks of the
two contending ships; and in this manner was fought the engagement
between the Corcyraean and Corinthian fleets which occurred in the
year before the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War. There the ship was
simply a vehicle, which served to bring the antagonists together, and
the rest was left to the prowess of the hoplites.
The Athenians were the first to abandon this crude and clumsy style of
fighting, and in the course of two generations their seamen had become
renowned throughout Greece for the unrivalled skill which they showed
in working and manoeuvring the trireme. A few hoplites were still
carried, to serve in cases of emergency; but by far the most important
part in the encounter was played by the trireme itself, with its long,
tapering, sharp-pointed prow. To use this deadly but delicate
instrument with effect required great coolness, dexterity, and
judgment, on the part of the steersman, and a crew under perfect
command. The tactics usually employed were as follows: watching his
opportunity, the captain gave the order "full speed ahead!" and darting
rapidly through the enemy's line, wheeled suddenly round, and drove the
beak of his galley with terrible force against the stern or side of the
vessel selected for attack. One blow from the long lance-like point,
propelled by the whole weight and impetus of the trireme, was
sufficient to sink or disable an enemy's ship, and the attacking galley
was then backed away from the wreck, and directed against another
victim.
The incessant practice of nearly half a century had enabled the
Athenians to attain consummate mastery in this new method of naval
warfare; and they were now to give signal proof of their immense
superiority over the other maritime powers of Greece.
In the same summer which witnessed the investment of Plataea, the
Spartans planned an expedition against Acarnania, the westernmost
province of Greece, which they wished to detach from the Athenian
alliance. A Spartan officer, named Cnemus, was sent off in advance,
with a thousand hoplites, to raise the wild mountain tribes, and led an
attack against Stratus, the capital of Acarnania; and in the meantime
orders were sent round to equip a numerous fleet, which was to support
the operations of Stratus by harassing the coast districts.
The attack on Stratus failed altogether, chiefly in consequence of the
impetuosity of the rude mountaineers serving under Cnemus, who advanced
unsupported against the town, and meeting with a severe repulse
embarrassed the movements of their Greek allies. About the same time
the Peloponnesian fleet, consisting of forty-seven ships, was sailing
down the Corinthian Gulf to co-operate with Cnemus. It was known that
Phormio, the Athenian admiral, was stationed at Naupactus with a
squadron of twenty vessels; but the Peloponnesian captains never
dreamed that he would venture to attack them with so small a force, and
they pursued their voyage along the southern shore of the gulf, without
making any preparations for a battle. Phormio, however, had other
intentions: keeping close to the opposite shore, he followed their
movements, and allowed them to pass through the narrow strait which
divides the inner from the outer gulf, wishing to avoid an engagement
until they reached the open water. The Peloponnesians dropped anchor
for the night at Patrae in Achaia, and Phormio took up his station at
Chalcis, a harbour-town of Aetolia, at the mouth of the Evenus. Being
now convinced that Phormio meditated an encounter, for which they had
little inclination, the Peloponnesian admirals made an attempt
[Footnote: I have adopted the reading of Bloomfield, approved by
Classen (4th Edition).] to steal across under cover of darkness. But
this manoeuvre was detected, and they found their way barred by the
Athenian squadron in the middle of the channel. Being thus driven to
bay the Peloponnesians drew up their ships in a circle, with their
prows turned outwards, like a flock of sheep assailed by a dog. Within
the circle were placed the smaller vessels accompanying the fleet, and
five of the swiftest galleys, which were intended to lend assistance
against any attack of the enemy.
To keep a large flotilla in such a position, even in a calm sea, where
no hostile movement was made against them, would have been a task to
try the skill of the most accomplished mariners. But the Peloponnesian
crews were untrained, the decks of their ships were crowded with
soldiers, and they were hampered by the crowd of smaller craft. Worst
of all, they were threatened in every direction by the agile Athenian
galleys, which, moving in single file, swept round and round them,
approaching closer and closer at every circuit, so that they were
penned together in an ever-narrowing space, and in danger of fouling
one another. To complete their confusion, the morning breeze began to
blow from the gulf; and Phormio, who had been waiting for this, now
gave the signal for attack. The Peloponnesians hardly attempted any
defence; for the unskilful crews of the galleys could not manage their
oars in the rising sea, and the steersmen had consequently no control
of their vessels. All their efforts were employed in keeping clear of
one another, warding off a collision with long poles, amid a hubbub of
curses and abuse. Into this huddled, swaying mass of war-galleys and
merchant-craft mingled together now dashed the Athenian triremes,
wrecking every vessel which they met. A wild panic ensued among the
Peloponnesian crews, and as fast as they could extricate themselves
they rowed off and sought shelter in the harbour of Patrae. From here
they afterwards sailed to Cyllene, the dockyard of Elis, where they
were joined by Cnemus with the troops from Acarnania. Twelve ships fell
into the hands of the Athenians, and taking these with them they sailed
first to Rhium, a level headland on the Locrian Coast, on which stood a
temple of Poseidon. Having left one of the captured ships as a
thank-offering to the god of the sea, they made their way back to the
original station at Naupactus.