VIII

We must now return to Syracuse, where fortune was preparing a new blow

for the ill-fated Athenian army. Gylippus came back from his mission at

the beginning of spring, bringing with him the reinforcements which he

had gathered from various parts of Sicily. At once resuming the

offensive, he planned an attack on the forts recently erected by Nicias

at Plemmyrium, and in order to divide the attention of the Athenians,

he determined to make a simultaneous movement against them by sea and

land. He himself took command of the army, and setting out at night,

made his way round to the rear of the Athenian position at Plemmyrium.

Meanwhile the Syracusan fleet lay ready in two divisions, one of which,

consisting of thirty-five vessels, was moored in the docks, within the

Great Harbour, while the other, to the number of forty-five, had its

station in the Lesser Harbour. At the hour appointed by Gylippus, just

as day was breaking, both squadrons got under weigh, and bore down upon

Plemmyrium, from the opposite sides of Ortygia. Though taken by

surprise, the Athenians put out in haste with sixty triremes, and a

sea-fight ensued, in which the Syracusans for some time had the

advantage. By this time Gylippus was at hand with his army, and by a

sudden assault on the Athenian forts he made an easy capture of all

three; for the greater part of the garrison had flocked down to the

sea, to watch the progress of the action in the Great Harbour.

Fortunately for these men, who had so grossly neglected their duty, the

Athenian fleet had now gained a decisive victory, and they were thus

enabled to make their escape by water, and cross over to the camp of

Nicias, on the other side of the bay.

By the capture of Plemmyrium a great treasure fell into the hands of

the Syracusans. The loss to the Athenians, in money, stores, and men,

was serious enough; but further consequences ensued, which were nothing

less than disastrous. The enemy now commanded both sides of the

entrance to the Great Harbour, and not a ship-load of provisions could

reach the Athenian camp without an encounter with the Syracusan

triremes. Well might despondency and dismay take possession of the

beleaguered army, cramped in their narrow quarters on the swampy flats

of the Anapus.

All Sicily, with one or two exceptions, had now declared for Syracuse,

and reinforcements came pouring in from every side. Gylippus was

resolved, if possible, to destroy the armament of Nicias, before the

fresh succours from Athens had time to arrive; and, as before, the

attack was to be made simultaneously by sea and land. Since the loss of

Plemmyrium, the Athenian fleet had been penned up in the confined space

at the head of the Great Harbour. Outside of these narrow limits, the

whole coast was in the hands of the enemy, and any Athenian trireme

which ventured out into open water ran the risk of being driven on a

hostile shore. Unless they chose to incur this great peril, the

Athenians would have to fight in close order, with the long, tapering

prows of their vessels exposed to collision.

The Syracusans skilfully availed themselves of the advantage thus

offered. The impact of prow with prow, which had hitherto been regarded

as a disgraceful evidence of bad seamanship, had now become the most

effective method of attack; and in order to execute this simple

manoeuvre without damage to their own ships, the Syracusans shortened

the prows of their triremes, and strengthened them with heavy beams of

timber, thus converting them into a broad and solid mass, which could

be driven with crushing force against the slender beaks of the Athenian

galleys.

When all was ready, Gylippus led out his troops, and assailed the

Athenian wall which faced towards Syracuse, and at the same time the

garrison stationed at Polichne left their quarters, and made another

attack on the opposite side. The assault had already commenced, when

the Syracusan fleet, which numbered eighty triremes, was seen advancing

towards the inner shore of the bay, where the ships of Nicias lay

moored; and the Athenian seamen, who had not expected to be called into

action, hastened in some confusion to man their ships, seventy-five of

which were presently engaged with the enemy. After a day passed in

irregular and desultory fighting, the battle ended slightly in favour

of the Syracusans. During the next day the Syracusans remained

inactive, and Nicias employed the interval in repairing the ships which

had suffered damage, and providing for the defence of his fleet. The

Athenian naval station was protected by a row of piles, rammed into the

bottom of the sea, forming a semi-circular breastwork, with an opening

about two hundred feet wide, where the ships passed in and out. On

either side of this entrance Nicias caused a merchant vessel to be

moored, and each vessel was provided with an engine called a dolphin, a

heavy mass of lead, suspended from the yard-arm, which could be dropped

on the deck of any hostile trireme attempting to pass.

Early on the following morning the Syracusans resumed hostilities both

by sea and land, and after several hours of desultory fighting, they

drew off their fleet, and sailed back to their station under the walls

of the city. The Athenians were well pleased by this sudden relief, and

concluding that their work was done for the day, they disembarked at

leisure, and began to prepare their midday meal. But before they had

time to snatch a mouthful, the whole Syracusan fleet was seen advancing

again from the opposite shore, and the hungry and weary Athenian crews

were summoned on board to repel a second attack. This crafty manoeuvre

was due to a suggestion of Ariston, the most skilful of the Corinthian

seamen, by whose advice provisions had been brought down to the beach,

so that the Syracusan crews were kept together, and ready to renew the

action, after a brief interval for repose and refreshment.

For a little while the two fleets faced each other, without venturing

to attack; then the Athenians, who were feverish with hunger and

fatigue, could restrain themselves no longer, but with one consent they

dashed their oars into the water, and with shouts of mutual

encouragement charged down upon the enemy. The Syracusans kept a firm

front, and opposing their massive prows to the rash assault, inflicted

great damage on the Athenian triremes, many of which were completely

wrecked by the shock of the collision. On every side the Athenians were

hard beset; the light-armed troops posted on the decks of the Syracusan

vessels, plied them with a shower of javelins, while the waters swarmed

with a multitude of boats, manned by daring adventurers, who rowed

boldly up to the sides of the Athenian triremes, broke the oars, and

hurled darts through the port-holes at the rowers. After fighting for

some time at a great disadvantage, with exhausted crews, and in a

narrow space, where they had no room to manoeuvre, the Athenians were

compelled to fall back, and sought refuge behind their palisade.

This important success raised the spirits of the Syracusans higher than

ever. They had gained a decisive victory over the greatest naval power

in Greece, sunk seven triremes, disabled many more, and slain or taken

prisoners a large number of men. Flushed with pride and hope, they

immediately began to prepare for a final attack, which was to end in

the complete destruction of their enemies both by sea and land. But

these high expectations received a sudden check; for on the day after

the battle, [Footnote: Or possibly two days.] the watchers on the walls

of Syracuse descried a great fleet on the northern horizon. Presently

the regular beat of ten thousand oars could be distinctly heard; it

grew louder and louder, and as the vanguard came into full view, the

alarmed Syracusans recognized the truth. There was no mistaking the

peculiar build and familiar ensigns of the renowned Athenian galleys.

This could be no other than the fleet of Demosthenes, arrived just in

time to save the shattered armament of Nicias, and once more turn the

tide of war against Syracuse. A great multitude rushed to the

battlements, and gazed with keen pangs of anxiety as the long line of

triremes, seventy-three in number, swept past the walls of Ortygia,

rounded the southern point, and crossing the Great Harbour, dropped

anchor at the naval station of Nicias. If anyone not concerned in the

struggle had been present, he might have admired the grand exhibition

of military pomp and power, the perfect trim and condition of the

triremes, the precision of the rowing, and the glittering ranks of the

hoplites, javelin-men, archers, and slingers, who thronged the decks.

But no such feeling could find room in the minds of the Syracusans.

After their long trials and sufferings, on the very eve of their

crowning triumph, a new host of enemies had sprung up against them, and

all their toils were beginning anew.