The Peiræus and the Shipping.
98. The “Long Walls” down to the Harbor Town.—It is some five miles
from the city to the Peiræus, and the most direct route this time lies
down the long avenue laid between the Long Walls, and running almost
directly southwest.[*] The ground is quite level. If we could catch
glimpses beyond the walls, we would see fields, seared brown perhaps by
the summer sun, and here and there a bright-kerchiefed woman gleaning
among the wheat stubble. The two walls start from Athens close
together and run parallel for some distance, then they gradually
diverge so as to embrace within their open angle a large part of the
circumference of the Peiræus. This open space is built up with all
kinds of shops, factories, and houses, usually of the less aristocratic
kind. In fact, all the noxious sights and odors to be found in Athens
seem tenfold multiplied as we approach the Peiræus.
[*] These were the walls whereof a considerable section was thrown down
by Lysander after the surrender of Athens [404 B.C.]. The demolition
was done to the “music of flute girls,” and was fondly thought by the
victors to mean the permanent crippling of Athens, and therefore “the
first day of the liberty of Greece.” In 393 B.C., by one of the
ironies of history, Conon, an Athenian admiral, but in the service of
the king of Persia, who was then at war with Sparta, appeared in the
Peiræus, and _with Persian men and money_ rebuilt the walls amid the
rejoicings of the Athenians.
The straight highroad is swarming with traffic: clumsy wagons are
bringing down marble from the mountains; other wains are headed toward
Athens with lumber and bales of foreign wares. Countless donkeys laden
with panniers are being flogged along. A great deal of the carrying is
done by half-naked sweating porters; for, after all, slave-flesh is
almost as cheap as beast-flesh. So by degrees the two walls open away
from us: before us now expands the humming port town; we catch the
sniff of the salt brine, and see the tangle of spars of the
multifarious shipping. Right ahead, however, dominating the whole
scene, is a craggy height,—the hill of Munychia, crowned with strong
fortifications, and with houses rising terrace above terrace upon its
slopes. At the very summit glitters in its white marble and color work
the temple of Artemis Munychia, the guardian goddess of the port town
and its citadel.[*]
[*] This fortress of Munychia, rather than the Acropolis in Athens was
the real citadel of Attica. It dominated the all-important harbors on
which the very life of the state depended.
[Illustration: The Town of Peiræus and the Harbors of Athens]
99. Munychia and the Havens of Athens.—Making our way up a steep lane
upon the northwestern slope, we pass within the fortifications, the
most formidable near Athens. A band of young ephebi of the garrison
eye us as we enter; but we seem neither Spartans nor Thebans and are
not molested. From a convenient crag near the temple, the whole scheme
of the harbors of Athens is spread out before us, two hundred and
eighty odd feet below. Behind us is the familiar plain of Athens with
the city, the Acropolis, and the guardian mountains. Directly west
lies the expanse of roof of the main harbor town, and then beyond is
the smooth blue expanse of the “Port of the Peiræus,” the main
mercantile harbor of Athens. Running straight down from Munychia,
southwest, the land tapers off into a rocky promontory, entirely girt
with strong fortifications. In this stretch of land are two deep round
indentations. Cups of bright water they seem, communicating with the
outer sea only by narrow entrances which are dominated by stout
castles. “Zea” is the name of the more remote; the “haven” of
“Munychia” is that which seems opening almost at our feet. These both
are full of the naval shipping, whereof more hereafter. To the
eastward, and stretching down the coast, is a long sandy beach whereon
the blue ripples are crumbling between the black fishing boats drawn up
upon the strand. This is Phaleron, the old harbor of Athens before
Themistocles fortified the _Peiræus_—merely an open roadstead in fact,
but still very handy for small craft, which can be hauled up promptly
to escape the tempest.
100. The Glorious View from the Hill of Munychia.—These are the chief
points in the harbors; but the view from Munychia is most extensive.
Almost everything in sight has its legend or its story in sober
history. Ten miles away to the southward rise the red rocky hills of
Ægina, Athens’ old island enemy; and the tawny headlands of the Argolic
coasts are visible yet farther across he horizon. Again as we follow
the purplish ridge of Mount Ægaleos as it runs down the Attic coast to
westward, we come to a headland then to a belt of azure water, about a
mile wide, then the reddish hills of an irregular island. Every idler
on the citadel can tell us all the story. On that headland on a certain
fateful morning sat Xerxes, lord of the Persians, with his sword-hands
and mighty men about him and his ships before him, to look down on the
naval spectacle and see how his slaves would fight. The island beyond
is “holy Salamis,” and in this narrow strip of water has been the
battle which saved the life of Hellas. Every position in the contest
seems clearly in sight, even the insignificant islet of Psytteleia,
where Aristeides had landed his men after the battle, and massacred the
Persians stationed there “to cut off the Greeks who tried to escape.”
The water is indescribably blue, matching the azure of the sky. Ships
of all kinds under sails or oars are moving lightly over the havens and
the open Saronic bay. It is matchless spectacle—albeit very peaceful.
We now descend to the Peiræus proper and examine the merchant shipping
and wharves, leaving the navy yards and the fighting triremes till
later.
101. The Town of Peiræus.—The Peiræus has all the life of the Athenian
Agora many times multiplied. Everywhere there is work and bustle.
Aristophanes has long since described the impression it makes on
strangers,[*]—sailors clamoring for pay, rations being served out,
figureheads being burnished, men trafficking for corn, for onions, for
leeks, for figs,—“wreaths, anchovies, flute girls, blackened eyes, the
hammering of oars from the dock yards, the fitting of rowlocks,
boatswains’ pipes, fifes, and whistling.” There is such confusion one
can hardly analyze one’s surroundings. However, we soon discover the
Peiræus has certain advantages over Athens itself. The streets are much
wider and are quite straight,[+] crossing at right angles, unlike the
crooked alleys of old Athens which seem nothing but built-up cow
trails. Down at the water front of the main harbor (“the Peiræus”
harbor to distinguish it from Zea and Munychia) we find about one
third, nearest the entrance passage and called the Cantharus, reserved
for the use of the war navy. This section is the famous _Emporium_,
which is such a repository of foreign wares that Isocrates boasts that
here one can easily buy all those things which it is extremely hard to
purchase anywhere else in Hellas. Along the shore run five great stoas
or colonnades, all used by the traders for different purposes;—among
them are the Long Stoa (_Makra_′ _Stoa_′), the _Deigma_ (see section
78) used as a sample house by the wholesalers, and the great Corn
Exchange built by Pericles. Close down near the wharves stands also a
handsome and frequented temple, that of Athena Euploia (Athena, Giver
of good Voyages), to whom many a shipman offers prayer ere hoisting
sail, and many another comes to pay grateful vows after surviving a
storm.[&] Time fails us for mentioning all the considerable temples
farther back in the town. The Peiræus in short is a semi-independent
community; with its shrines, its agoras, its theaters, its court rooms,
and other public buildings. The population contains a very high
percentage of metics, and downright Barbarians,—indeed, long-bearded
Babylonians, clean bronze Egyptians, grinning Ethiopians, never awaken
the least comment, they are so familiar.
[*] _Acharn._ 54 ff.
[+] Pericles employed the famous architect Hippodamus to lay out the
Peiræus. It seems to have been arranged much like many of the newer
American cities.
[&] There seems to have been still another precinct, sacred to “Zeus
and Athena the Preservers,” where it was very proper to offer
thanksgivings after a safe voyage.
[Illustration: Fishermen]
102. The Merchant Shipping.—We can now cast more particular eyes upon
the shipping. Every possible type is represented. The fishing craft
just now pulling in with loads of shining tunnies caught near Ægina are
of course merely broad open boats, with only a single dirty orange sail
swinging in the lagging breeze. Such vessels indeed depend most of the
time upon their long oars. Also just now there goes across the glassy
surface of the harbor a slim graceful rowing craft, pulling eight
swiftly plying oars to a side. She is a _Lembus:_ probably the private
cutter of the commandant of the port. Generally speaking, however, we
soon find that all the larger Greek ships are divided into two
categories, the “long ships” and the “round ships.” The former depend
mainly on oars and are for war; the latter trust chiefly to sail power
and are for cargo. The craft in the merchant haven are of course
nearly all of this last description.
Greeks are clever sailors. They never feel really happy at a great
distance from the sea which so penetrates their little country;
nevertheless, they have not made all the progress in navigation which,
considering the natural ingenuity of the race, might well be expected.
The prime difficulty is that Greek ships very seldom have comfortable
cabins. The men expect to sleep on shore every night possible. Only
in a great emergency, or when crossing an exceptionally wide gulf or
channel,[*] can a captain expect the average crew to forego the
privilege of a warm supper and bivouac upon the strand. This means
(since safe anchorages are by no means everywhere) the ships must be so
shallow and light they can often be hauled up upon the beach. Even
with a pretty large crew, therefore, the limit to a manageable ship is
soon reached; and during the whole of the winter season all
long-distance voyaging has to be suspended; while, even in summer, nine
sailors out of ten hug close to the land, despite the fact that often
the distance of a voyage is thereby doubled.
[*] For example, the trip from Crete to Cyrene—which would be demanded
first, before coasting along to Egypt.
However, the ships at Peiræus, if not large in size, are numerous
enough. Some are simply big open boats with details elaborated. They
have a small forecastle and poop built over, but the cargo in the hold
is exposed to all wind and weather. The propulsion comes from a single
unwieldy square sail swinging on a long yard the whole length of the
vessel. Other ships are more completely decked, and depend on two
square sails in the place of one. A few, however, are real “deep sea”
vessels—completely decked, with two or even three masts; with cabins of
tolerable size, and forward and aft curious projections, like
turrets,—the use whereof is by no means obvious, but we soon gather
that pirates still abound on the distant seas, and that these turrets
are useful when it comes to repelling boarders. The very biggest of
these craft run up to 250 gross tons (later day register),[*] although
with these ponderous defense-works they seem considerably larger. The
average of the ships, however, will reckon only 30 to 40 tons or even
smaller. It is really a mistake, any garrulous sailor will tell us, to
build merchant ships much bigger. It is impossible to make sailing
vessels of the Greek model and rig sail very close to the wind; and in
every contrary breeze or calm, recourse must be had to the huge oars
piled up along the gunwales. Obviously it is weary work propelling a
large ship with oars unless you have a huge and expensive crew,—far
better then to keep to the smaller vessels.
[*] The Greeks reckoned their ships by their capacity in talents (=
about 60 lbs.), _e.g._ a ship of 500 talents, of 2000, or (among the
largest) 10,000.
103. The Three War Harbors and the Ship House.—Many other points about
these “round ships” interest us; but such matters they share with the
men-of-war, and our inspection has now brought us to the navy yard.
There are strictly three separate navy yards, one at each of the
harbors of Munychia, Zea, and Cantharus, for the naval strength of
Athens is so great that it is impossible to concentrate the entire
fleet at one harbor. Each of these establishments is protected by
having two strong battlements or breakwaters built out, nearly closing
the respective harbor entrances. At the end of each breakwater is a
tower with parapets for archers, and capstans for dragging a huge chain
across the harbor mouth, thus effectively sealing the entrance to any
foe.[*] The Zea haven has really the greatest warship capacity, but
the Cantharus is a good type for the three.[+] As we approach it from
the merchant haven, we see the shelving shore closely lined with
curious structures which do not easily explain themselves. There are a
vast number of dirty, shelving roofs, slightly tilted upward towards
the land side, and set at right angles to the water’s edge. They are
each about 150 feet long, some 25 feet wide, about 20 feet high, and
are set up side by side with no passage between. On close inspection
we discover these are ship houses. Under each of the roofs is
accommodated the long slim hull of a trireme, kept safe from sea and
weather until the time of need, when a few minutes’ work at a tackle
and capstan will send it down into harbor, ready to tow beside a wharf
for outfitting.
[*] Ancient harbors were much harder to defend than modern ones,
because there was no long-range artillery to prevent an enemy from
thrusting into an open haven among defenseless shipping.
[+] Zea had accommodation for 196 triremes, Munychia, 82, and the
Cantharus, 94.
104. The Great Naval Arsenal.—The ship houses are not the only large
structures at the navy yard. Here is also the great naval arsenal, a
huge roofed structure open at the sides and entirely exposed to public
inspection. Here between the lines of supporting columns can be seen
stacked up the staple requisites for the ships,—great ropes, sail
boxes, anchors, oars, etc. Everybody in Athens is welcome to enter and
assure himself that the fleet can be outfitted at a minute’s notice[*];
and at all times crews of half-naked, weather-beaten sailors are
rushing hither and yon, carrying or removing supplies to and from the
wharves where their ships are lying.
[*] This arsenal was replaced a little later than the hypothetical time
of this narrative by one designed by the famous architect, Philo. It
was extremely elegant as well as commodious, with handsome columns,
tiled roofs, etc. In 360 B.C., however, the arsenal seems to have been
a strictly utilitarian structure.
105. An Athenian Triearch.—Among this unaristocratic crowd we observe
a dignified old gentleman with an immaculate himation and a long
polished cane. Obsequious clerks and sailing masters are hanging about
him for his orders; it is easy to see that he is a _trierarch_—one of
the wealthiest citizens on whom it fell, in turn, at set intervals, to
provide the less essential parts of a trireme’s outfit, and at least
part of the pay for the crew for one year, and to be generally
responsible for the efficiency and upkeep of the vessel.[*] This is a
year of peace, and the patriotic pressure to spend as much on your
warship as possible is not so great as sometimes; still Eustatius, the
magnate in question, knows that he will be bitterly criticized (nay,
perhaps prosecuted in the courts) if he does not do “the generous
thing.” He is therefore ordering an extra handsome figurehead;
promising a bonus to the rowing master if he can get his hands to row
in better rhythm than the ordinary crew; and directing that wine of
superior quality be sent aboard for the men.[+] It will be an anxious
year in any case for Eustathius. He has ill wishers who will watch
carefully to see if the vessel fails to make a creditable record for
herself during the year, and whether she is returned to the ship house
or to the next trierarch in a state of good repair. If the craft does
not then appear seaworthy, her last outfitter may be called upon to
rebuild her completely, a matter which will eat up something like a
talent. Public service therefore does not provide beds of roses for the
rich men of Athens.
[*] Just how much of the rigging and what fraction of the pay of the
crew the government provided is by no means clear from our evidence.
It is certain that a public-spirited and lavish trierarch could almost
ruin himself (unless very wealthy) during the year he was responsible
for the vessel.
[+] According to various passages in Demosthenes, the cost of a
trierachy for a year varied between 40 minæ (say $540 [1914 or
$9,304.20 in 2000]) and a talent (about $1000 [1914 or $17,230 in
2000]), very large sums for Athenians. The question of the amount of
time spent in active service in foreign waters would of course do much
to determine the outlay.
Eustathius goes away towards one of the wharves, where his trireme, the
_Invincible_, is moored with her crew aboard her. Let us examine a
typical Athenian warship.
106. The Evolution of the Trireme.—The genesis of the trireme was the
old _penteconter_ (“fifty-oar ship”) which, in its prime features, was
simply a long, narrow, open hull, with slightly raised prow and stern
cabins, pulling twenty-five oars to a side. There are a few
penteconters still in existence, though the great naval powers have
long since scorned them. It was a good while before the battle of
Salamis that the Greek sea warriors began to feel the need of larger
warships. It was impossible to continue the simple scheme of the
penteconter. To get more oars all on one tier you must make a longer
boat, but you could not increase the beam, for, if you did, the whole
craft would get so heavy that it would not row rapidly; and the
penteconter was already so long in relation to its beam as to be
somewhat unsafe. A device was needed to get more oars into the water
without increasing the length over much. The result was the _bireme_
(two-banker) which was speedily replaced by the still more efficient
_trireme_ (three-banker), the standard battleship of all the Greek
navies.[*]
[*] By the end of the fourth century B.C., vessels with four and five
banks of oars (quadriremes and quinqueremes) had become the regular
fighting ships, but they differed probably only in size, not in
principle, from the trireme.
[Illustration: AN ATHENIAN TRIREME
The scheme for the sails is conjectural, and no attempt is made to show
the exact number of oars.]
107. The Hull of a Trireme.—The _Invincible_ has a hull of fir
strengthened by a solid oak keel, very essential if she is to be hauled
up frequently. Her hull is painted black, but there is abundance of
scarlet, bright blue, and gilding upon her prow, stern, and upper
works. The slim hull itself is about 140 feet long, 14 feet wide, and
rides the harbor so lightly as to show it draws very little water; for
the warship, even more perhaps than the merchantman, is built on the
theory that her crew must drag her up upon the beach almost every
night.
While we study the vessel we are soon told that, although triremes have
been in general use since, say, 500 B.C., nevertheless the ships that
fought at Salamis were decidedly simpler affairs than those of three
generations later. In those old “aphract” vessels the upper tier of
rowers had to sit exposed on their benches with no real protection from
the enemy’s darts; but in the new “cataphract” ships like the
_Invincible_ there is a stout solid bulwark built up to shield the
oarsmen from hostile sight and missiles alike. All this makes the
ships of Demosthene’s day much handsomer, taller affairs than their
predecessors which Themistocles commanded; nevertheless the old and the
new triremes have most essentials in common. The day is far off when a
battleship twenty years old will be called “hopelessly obsolete” by the
naval critics.[*]
[*] There is some reason for believing that an Athenian trireme was
kept in service for many years, with only incidental repairs, and then
could still be counted as fit to take her place in the line of battle.
The upper deck of the trireme is about eleven feet above the harbor
waves, but the lowest oar holes are raised barely three feet. Into the
intervening space the whole complicated rowing apparatus has to be
crammed with a good deal of ingenuity. Running along two thirds of the
length of the hull nearly the whole interior of the vessel is filled
with a series of seats and foot rests rising in sets of three. Each
man has a bench and a kind of stool beneath him, and sits close to a
porthole. The feet of the lowest rower are near the level of the water
line; swinging two feet above him and only a little behind him is his
comrade of the second tier; higher and behind in turn is he of the
third.[*] Running down the center of the ship on either side of these
complicated benches is a broad, central gangway, just under the upper
deck. Here the supernumeraries will take refuge from the darts in
battle, and here the regular rowers will have to do most of their
eating, resting, and sleeping when they are not actually on the benches
or on shore.
[*] The exact system by which these oar benches were arranged, the crew
taught to swing together (despite the inequalities in the length of
their oars), and several other like problems connected with the
trireme, have received no satisfactory solution by modern
investigators.
108. The Rowers’ Benches of a Trireme.—With her full complement of
rowers the benches of the _Invincible_ fairly swarm with life. There
are 62 rowers to the upper tier (_thranites_), 58 for the middle tier
(_zygites_), and 54 for the lower (_thalamites_), each man with his own
individual oar. The _thranites_ with the longest oars (full 13 feet 6
inches) have the hardest pull and the largest pay, but not one of the
174 oarsmen holds a sinecure. In ordinary cruising, to be sure, the
trireme will make use of her sails, to help out a single bank of oars
which must be kept going almost all the time. Even then it is weary
work to break your back for a couple of hours taking your turn on the
benches. But in battle the trireme almost never uses sails. She
becomes a vast, many-footed monster, flying over the foam; and the pace
of the three oar banks, swinging together, becomes maddening. Behind
their bulwarks the rowers can see little of what is passing.
Everything is dependent upon their rowing together in absolute rhythm
come what may, and giving instant obedience to orders. The trireme is
in one sense like a latter-day steamer in her methods of propulsion;
but the driving force is 174 straining, panting humans, not insensate
water vapor and steel.
109. The Cabins, Rigging, and Ram of a Trireme.—Forward and aft of the
rowers’ benches and the great central gangway are the fore and stern
cabins. They furnish something akin to tolerable accommodations for
the officers and a favored fraction of the crew. Above the forecastle
rises a carved proudly curing prow, and just abaft it are high bulwarks
to guard the javelin men when at close quarters with the foe. There is
also on either side of the prow a huge red or orange “eye” painted
around the hawse holes for the anchors. Above the stern cabin is the
narrow deck reserved for the pilot, the “governor” of the ship, who
will control the whole trireme with a touch now on one, now on the
other, of the huge steering paddles which swing at the sides near the
stern. Within the stern cabin itself is the little altar, sacred to
the god or goddess to whom the vessel is dedicated, and on which
incense will be burned before starting on a long cruise and before
going into battle. Two masts rise above the deck, a tall mainmast
nearly amidships, and a much smaller mast well forward. On each of
these a square sail (red, orange, blue, or even, with gala ships,
purple) will be swung from a long yard, while the vessel is cruising;
but it is useless to set sails in battle. One could never turn the
ship quickly enough to complete the maneuvers. The sails and yards
will ordinarily be sent ashore as the first measure when the admiral
signals “clear ship for action.”
We have now examined all of the _Invincible_ except for her main
weapon,—her beak; for the trireme is really herself one tremendous
missile to be flung by the well-trained rowers at the ill-starred foe.
Projecting well in front of the prow and close to the water line are
three heavy metal spurs serrated one above the other, somewhat thus[*]:
[Illustration]
Let this fang once crush against a foeman’s broadside, and his timbers
are crushed in like eggshells.
[*] Probably at Salamis and in the earlier Athenian army the ram had
been composed of a single long, tapering beak.
110. The Officers and Crew of a Trireme.—So much for the _Invincible_
herself, but obviously she is a helpless thing without an efficient
crew. The life of an oarsman is far from luxurious, but the pay seems
to be enough to induce a goodly number of _thetes_ (the poorest class
of the Athenian citizens) to accept service, and the rest can be
supplied by hired metics or any kind of foreign nondescript who can be
brought into discipline. The rowers are of course the real heart and
soul of the trireme; but they are useless without proper training.
Indeed it was the superior discipline of the Athenian crews which in
the days of Themistocles and Pericles gave Athens the supremacy of the
seas. The nominal, and sometimes actual, commander of the trireme is
her trierarch; but obviously a cultivated old gentleman like Eustathius
is no man to manage the ship in a sea fight. He will name some deputy,
perhaps a stout young friend or a son, for the real naval work. Even
he may not possess great experience. The real commander of the
_Invincible_ is the “governor” (_kybernates_), a gnarled old seaman,
who has spent all his life upon the water. Nominally his main duty is
to act as pilot, but actually he is in charge of the whole ship; and in
battle the trierarch (if aboard) will be very glad to obey all his
“suggestions.” Next to the “governor” there is the _proireus_, another
experienced sailor who will have especial charge of the forecastle in
battle. Next in turn are two “oar-masters” (_toixarchoi_), who are
each responsible for the discipline and working of one of the long
rowers’ benches; and following in grade, though highly important, are
the _keleustēs_, and the _triērraulēs_, who, by voice and by flute
respectively, will give the time and if needs be encouragement to the
rowers. These are all the regular officers, but naturally for handling
the sails and anchors some common sailors are desirable. The
_Invincible_ carries 17 of these. She also has 10 marines (_epibatœ_),
men trained to fight in hoplite’s armor and to repel boarders. The
Persian ships at Salamis carried 30 such warriors, and often various
Greek admirals have crowded their decks with these heavy marines; but
the true Athenian sea warrior disdains them. Given a good helmsman and
well-trained rowers, and you can sink your opponent with your ram,
while he is clumsily trying to board you. Expert opinion considers the
_epibatœ_ somewhat superfluous, and their use in most naval battles as
disgracefully unscientific.
111. A Trireme at Sea.—A trireme, then is an heroic fighting
instrument. She goes into battle prepared literally to do or die. If
her side is once crushed, she fills with water instantly, and the enemy
will be too busy and too inhumane to do anything but cheer lustily when
they see the water covered with struggling wretches. But the trireme is
also a most disagreeable craft before and after the battle. Her light
draft sets her tossing on a very mild sea. In the hot southern climate,
with very little ventilation beneath the upper deck, with nigh two
hundred panting, naked human beings wedged in together below so closely
that there is scarce room for one more, the heat, the smells, the
drudgery, are dreadful. No wonder the crew demanded that the trierarch
and governor “make shore for the night,” or that they weary of the
incessant grating of the heavy oars upon the thole-pins.
Thus the _Invincible_ will seem to any squeamish voyager, but not so to
the distant spectator. For him a trireme is a most marvelous and
magnificent sight. A sister ship, the _Danaë_,[*] is just entering the
Peiræus from Lemnos (an isle still under the Athenian sovereignty).
Her upper works have been all brightened for the home-coming. Long,
brilliant streams trail from her sail yards and poop. The flute player
is blowing his loudest. The marines stand on the forecastle in
glittering armor. A great column of foam is spouting from her bow.[+]
Her oars, eighty-seven to the side, pumiced white and hurling out the
spray, are leaping back and forth in perfect unison. The whole vessel
seems a thing of springing, ardent life. It is, indeed, a sight to
stir the blood. No later sailing ship in her panoply of canvas, no
steam battleship with her grim turrets and smoking funnels can ever
match the spectacle of a trireme moving in her rhythm and glory.
[*] The Greek ships seem to have been named either for mythological
characters, or for desirable qualities and virtues.
[+] At her best a trireme seems to have been capable of making 8 to 9
knots per hour.
112. The Tactics of a Naval Battle.—Imagination can now picture a Greek
naval battle, fifty, a hundred, two hundred, or more of these splendid
battleships flying in two hostile lines to the charge.[*] Round and
round they will sail, each pilot watching the moment when an unlucky
maneuver by the foe will leave a chance for an attack; and then will
come the sudden swinging of the helm, the frantic “Pull hard!” to the
oarsmen, the rending crash and shock as the ram tears open the
opponents side, to be followed by almost instant tragedy. If the direct
attack on the foe’s broadside fails, there is another maneuver. Run
down upon your enemy as if striking bow to bow; the instant before
contact let your aim swerve—a little. Then call to your men to draw in
their oars like lightning while the enemy are still working theirs. If
your oarsmen can do the trick in time, you can now ride down the whole
of the foemen’s exposed oar bank, while saving your own. He is left
crippled and helpless, like a huge centipede with all the legs on one
side stripped away. You can now back off deliberately, run out your
oars, and in cold blood charge his exposed flank. If he does not now
surrender, his people are dead men. Excellent to describe! Not always
so excellent in performance. Everything depends on the perfect
discipline and handiness of your crew.
[*] A more detailed picture of an ancient naval battle and its tactics
can be found in the author’s historical novel, _A Victor of Salamis_
(Chap. XXIX).
113. The Naval Strength of Athens.—The strength of Athens is still
upon the sea. Despite her defeats in the Peloponnesian War she has
again the first navy in Hellas. All in all she can send out 400
triremes and since each trireme represents a crew of over 200 men, this
means that Athens can dispose of over 80,000 souls in her navy,
whereof, however, only a minor fraction are Athenian citizens. Athens
is quite right in thus laying stress upon her sea power. Her long
walls and the Peiræus make her practically an island. Even after
Chæroneia, Philip of Macedon will be obliged to give her honorable
terms,—she has still her great navy. Only after the defeat of her
fleet at Amorgos in 322 B.C. will she have to know all the pangs of
vassalage to Macedon.