MEDITERRANEAN PROGRESS
But before we proceed further, it is essential that we look carefully
into the building, administration, and handling of those fleets of
vessels which made history as they scudded across the blue waters
of the south of Europe. We want to know, also, something of the
composition of their crews, their officers, and the divisions of
control, of the tactics employed in naval warfare, of the limitations
in manœuvring, the methods of working the oars, of rigging the ships,
of steering, and so on.
Greece had accepted the ship as it had evolved in the hands of the
Phœnicians with certain modifications. We are no longer anxious to
trace that development, but rather to see, in the first place, how the
Greeks availed themselves of their inheritance. In the building of
their ships the Greeks gave neither sternpost nor stempost. The timbers
of the ships were held together by means of wooden pegs (or treenails,
as we should call them), and also by metal nails, bronze being chosen
in preference to iron nails for the most obvious of reasons. But in
those days, as any student of Greek history is aware, not infrequently
craft had to be transported. Therefore the fastenings were so placed
as to allow of the ship being divided into sections for carrying
across land to some distant water. The outer framework of the hull was
found in the keel and ribs. The ship’s planking, which varied from the
somewhat ample 2¼ inches to 5¼ inches thick, was fastened through the
ribs to the beams.
The warships had most necessarily to be built of the utmost strength to
sustain the terrible shocks in ramming. To prevent the damage incurred
being disastrous, cables--called hypozomata--undergirded the ship. The
Greek word signifies the diaphragm or midriff in anatomy, but in the
plural it is used to designate the braces which were passed either
underneath or horizontally around the ship’s hull. The reader may
remember that in “Sailing Ships and their Story” I called attention to
the Egyptian ships, which used to be strengthened by stretching similar
cables not girth-wise, but direct from stem to stern across the deck
over wooden forks amidships. Primarily, then, these braces on the Greek
ships were to counteract the effects of ramming; incidentally they kept
the ship’s hull from “working” when she pounded in heavy seas.
And then when the shipwright had finished his construction of the ship
she was coloured with a composition consisting of paint and wax, the
latter serving to give these speedy ships the minimum of skin-friction.
The colours chosen were purple, two whites, violet, yellow, and blue.
Green, for the sake of invisibility, was used for scouts and pirates.
The primitive Grecian ships had only patches of colour at the bows, the
rest of the hull being covered black with tar. Occasionally neither wax
nor tar was employed, but the hull was sheathed with lead outside the
planking, layers of tarred sailcloth being placed in between the two
materials. They made their sails either of linen, or, sometimes, of
papyrus fibre or flax, and there were two kinds of sailcloth which the
Athenian Navy utilised. The bolt-ropes of the sails were of hide, the
skins of the hyena and seal being especially employed. The ropes used
for the different purposes of the ship were of two kinds. Some were of
strips of hide; more frequently they were from the fibre of papyrus or
from flax or hemp. The sails were often coloured--black for mourning,
purple or vermilion for an admiral or monarch. Topsails were sometimes
coloured, the lower sail remaining uncoloured. The green-hulled
scouts also had their sails and ropes dyed to match the colour of the
Mediterranean. And sometimes the interesting sight would be seen of
sails with inscriptions and devices woven in golden thread into the
fabric.
There is a Greek word _askos_, which signifies a leathern bag or
wine-skin, from which the word _askoma_ is derived. The latter was
the word given to a leathern bag which was attached to the oar so as
to prevent the water from penetrating through into the ship, and yet
allowed, with only slight friction, the oar to be brought backward and
forward. There is something slightly similar to-day in the leather
flap which is found on the Bristol Channel pilot cutters, covering the
discharge from the watertight cockpits, the motion of the ship through
the water causing the flap to be pressed tightly against the hull, and
thus preventing any water from entering. But in the instance of the
Grecian craft the flap was much bigger. There were no rowlocks, but the
oar was fastened by a leathern loop to a thole-pin against which the
rower pulled his oar.
Bear in mind that, whereas the Greek merchant-ship mostly relied on
sails, the warship was essentially oar-propelled. And because she
must needs carry a large number of rowers they needed supervision.
Hence a gangway was placed on either side of the ship, both for that
purpose and also for the placing of the fighting men. Illustrations on
ancient Greek vases clearly show that some warships were fitted with a
hurricane-deck above, and this extended down the length of the ship,
but not from one side to the other. This hurricane-deck, if we are to
give any credence to contemporary illustrations, was a fairly light
affair raised on vertical supports of sufficient strength. In addition
to the human ballast of the oarsmen, gravel, sand, and stone were used
for trimming the ship. For instance, it might be necessary to get the
bows deeper into the water so that the ram came into operation; or,
after ramming and receiving damage, it might be found advisable to
trim the ship by the stern so as to get the bows well out of water. To
what extent these craft leaked one cannot say; but one can reasonably
suppose that as they were built of unseasoned wood, as the shocks from
ramming were very injurious, and as they had to suffer a good deal
of wear and tear through frequent beaching, they made a fair amount
of water. At any rate, it is certain that they provided against this
in arranging an Archimedean screw, worked by a treadmill, or buckets
for getting rid of the bilge-water. It is probable, also, that the
drinking-water in cisterns or skins would be deposited as low in the
hull as possible.
The Greeks, in addition to their technical ability, had inherited a
similar sea-instinct to that of the Phœnicians, and this keenness is
by no means absent from Greek literature. What, for instance, could be
more enthusiastic than the following exquisitely poetic extract from
Antipater of Sidon:--
“Now is the season for a ship to run through the gurgling water, and
no longer does the sea gloom, fretted with gusty squalls; and now the
swallow plasters her globed houses under the rafters, and the soft
leafage laughs in the meadows. Therefore wind up your soaked cables, O
sailors, and weigh your sunken anchors from the harbours, and stretch
the forestays to carry your well-woven sails. This I, the son of
Bromius, bid you, Priapus of the anchorage.”[3]
It is an exhortation, at the return of spring, to refit the ships which
had been laid up since the winter, tethered to the “soaked cables.” It
is an invitation to get the ships properly afloat, to step the masts
and set up the forestay in all readiness for getting under way for the
sailing season.
Or again, listen to Leonidas of Tarentum in a similar theme.
“Now is the season of sailing,” he says, “for already the chattering
swallow is come and the pleasant west wind; the meadows flower, and the
sea, tossed up with waves and rough blasts, has sunk to silence. Weigh
thine anchors and unloose thine hawsers, O mariner, and sail with all
thy canvas set: this I, Priapus of the harbour, bid thee, O man, that
thou mayest sail forth to all thy trafficking.”[4]
“Mine be a mattress on the poop,” sings[5] Antiphilus with no less
ecstasy of the life on board a Grecian ship, “mine be a mattress on the
poop, and the awnings over it sounding with the blows of the spray,
and the fire forcing its way out of the hearth-stones, and a pot upon
them with empty turmoil of bubbles; and let me see the boy dressing the
meat, and my table be a ship’s plank covered with a cloth; and a game
of pitch-and-toss, and the boatswain’s whistle: the other day I had
such fortune, for I love common life.”
Three thousand years, indeed, before the birth of our Lord there were
ships sailing the Ægean Sea, but it was only the progress of time and
experience which made these craft and their crews’ ability anything
more than primitive. As you look through the poems of Homer you
find various significant references to craft, and he speaks of the
“red-cheeked” ships, referring to the vermilion-coloured bows, where a
face was frequently painted, red being the conventional colour in those
early times for flesh. The same idea is still seen in the Chinese junks
and the Portuguese fishing craft.
[Illustration: “MINE BE A MATTRESS ON THE POOP.”]
The earliest Grecian ships were crescent-shaped, and the stern so
resembled the horn of a cow that it was called the _korumba_ or point.
There is a reference in the Iliad to the high-pointed sterns of ships.
From Homer, too, we know that the timber employed in shipbuilding
consisted of oak, pine, fir, alder, poplar, and white poplar; that
the masts and oars were of fir, that the woodwork of the hull was
erected on shipbuilders’ stocks. The word used for the latter was
_druochoi_--meaning the props on which the keel (_tropis_) was laid.
The hull was secured by treenails and dowel-joints, the planking being
laid over the ribs. Further, we know also that the ship of Homer had
either twenty or fifty oarsmen.
The pre-Homeric Greeks did not use thole-pins, but the oars were
fastened to the gunwale by means of leathered hoops. It was not till
a later date that the pins already mentioned came into use. It is
noticeable, too, that Homer uses the word _kleides_ in referring to the
thwarts on which the rowers sat. For the singular of this word means a
hook or clasp, and is used in this sense for the thwart or rowing bench
which locked the sides of the ship together. _Zuga_ is also used in
the Odyssey to signify the same thing. In attempting to piece together
these fragmentary details of the Homeric ship, we must bear in mind
that below the _zuga_ or rowing thwarts the hold was undecked, but that
fore and aft there ran the half-decks--_ikria_, Homer calls them. The
forecastle formed at once a cabin and a look-out post, and helped to
keep the forward end protected when butting into a sea. Right aft, of
course, sat the helmsman, or _kubernetes_, and it is supposed that a
bench here stretched across the poop on which, as he sat on deck, he
could rest his feet and work the _oieion_ or handle of the rudder. A
Greek ship usually had two pedalia or steering oars, one being placed
on either quarter. These were joined together across the ship by means
of cross-bars (_zeuglai_), to which the tiller or handle was attached.
Finally, over the poop rose the tail-piece which is so noticeable
in some of the vase-illustrations of Grecian ships, and had its
counterpart in the lotus-bud seen in the ships of the Egyptians.
Homer speaks of “stepping the mast” (_histos_), and apparently the
step was affixed as low as possible, its heel being supported by a
prop and capable of being easily lowered before the galley went into
battle under oar-propulsion alone. The forestays, which just now we
saw Antipater urging the sailors to stretch, were two in number. The
Homeric word for these is _protonoi_, though the word was used by
Euripides in speaking of the braces which controlled the yards. On the
yard which stretched at right angles across the mast both merchantmen
and warships set the squaresail, and the use by Homer of the word
_meruomai_ for _drawing up_ or furling sails is sufficiently indicative
that the ancient Greek sailors stowed sail not by lowering it on deck
as in a modern fore-and-after, but after the fashion of a modern
full-rigged ship.
We find mention also of the halyards--one on each side of the mast is
shown in the Greek vase designs--which supported the yard to the top of
the mast, the sail being reefed by means of brailing lines. The same
word that we have just mentioned, for “drawing up” or “furling” sails,
was also employed for drawing up the cables. And here again there is a
further connection. The plural _kaloi_ is used to mean (1) cables, (2)
reefing ropes (i.e. brails), or even reefs as opposed to the sheets
(_podes_) and braces (_huperai_). Euripides employs the expression
_kalōs exienai_, meaning to “let out the reefs.” And (3) _kaloi_ also
means not merely generally a rope, but also a sounding line, which
again is evidence that these ancient seamen found the depth of water
as the modern sailor feels his way through shoal seas. The word just
given for sheets was applied to the lower corners of the sail--clews
as we nowadays call them--and thus naturally the ropes attached to the
foot (or lowest part) were also called _podes_. The braces were called
_huperai_, obviously because they were in fact the upper ropes.
As we have just seen from Antipater and Leonidas, the mariner used
cables and hawsers for securing his ship, these being sent out from
both bow and stern. Instead of anchors the early Greeks used heavy
stones for the bow cables, whilst other hawsers were run out from the
stern to the shore and hitched on to a big boulder or rock. If the
former, then there was a hole therein. An endless rope was rove through
this perforated stone, so that thus the ship could be hauled ashore
for disembarking, or when wishing to go aboard again, sufficient slack
of course having been left at the bow cables. A long pole was used for
shoving off, while a ladder, which is seen more than once in Greek vase
illustrations, was carried at the stern for convenience in descending
to the land from the high-pointed sterns.
There were two sailing seasons. The first was after the rising of the
Pleiads, in spring; the second was between midsummer and autumn. When,
after the setting of the Pleiads, the ship was hauled up into winter
quarters on land, she was supported by props to keep her upright, and
then a stone fence was put round her. This afforded her protection
against wind and weather. The _cheimaros_, or plug, was then taken out
from the bottom so as to let out all the bilge-water. The ship’s gear,
the sails, steering oars, and tiller were then stored at home till the
time came once more for the sailors to “stretch” their forestays.
About the year 700 B.C. the Greek warships were manned by fifty rowers;
hence these craft were called _pentekontoroi_. With the existence of
a forecastle and a raised horned poop, one can understand perfectly
well how easy was the transition which caused an upper deck to be added
about this century. This gave to the ship greater power, because it
allowed two banks of oarsmen, one on each deck. As far as possible
these rowers were covered in to avoid the attacks of the enemy. Such
shallow-draught vessels as the war-galleys could not possibly be good
as sailing craft. They must be looked upon as essentially rowing
vessels which occasionally set canvas when cruising and a fair wind was
blowing.
The _pentekontoroi_ were single-banked, and for a long time the Greek
fleets consisted solely of this type. But then came the additional
deck just spoken of which gave two banks, and subsequently the trireme
succeeded the bireme. The trireme was very popular till after the close
of the Peloponnesian War, when the quadrireme was introduced from
Carthage. Dr. Oskar Seyffert[6] asserts that before the close of the
fourth century B.C. quinquiremes and even six-banked craft, and (later
still) even sixteen-banked vessels are supposed by some writers to have
been in vogue. But as to the latter this seems highly improbable.
And before we proceed any further, let us endeavour to get a clear idea
as to the nature of a trireme. This species of ship had been invented
by those great seamen who hailed from the port of Sidon. About the
year 700 B.C. this type was adopted by the Greeks, and then began to
supersede all other existing types of war-vessels. Themistocles in
483 B.C. inaugurated the excellent practice of maintaining a large
permanent navy. As a commencement he built a hundred triremes, and
these were used at the battle of Salamis. In the Greek word _trieres_
there is nothing to signify that it was necessarily three-banked, and
it is well to realise this fact from the start. The word just means
“triple-arranged,” neither more nor less. It is when we come to the
question as to the details of this triple arrangement that we find a
divergence of theory. It will, therefore, be best if we state first the
prevailing theory of the trireme’s arrangement, and then pass on to
give what is the more modern and the more plausible interpretation.
[Illustration: CAST OF A RELIEF IN ATHENS.
Showing the disposition of rowers in a trireme.]
The most general idea, then, is that the trireme was fitted with three
tiers of oarsmen. In this case the _thalamitai_ were those who sat and
worked on the lowest tier; the _zugitai_, those who sat on the beams;
whilst the _thranitai_ were the men who sat on the highest tier. (Homer
refers to the seven-foot bench, or _thrēnus_, which was the seat of
the helmsman or the rowers). Each oarsman, it is thought, sat below
and slightly to the rear of the oarsman above him, so that these three
sections of men formed an oblique line. This economised space and
facilitated their movements. A variation of this same theory suggests
that the _thalamitai_ sat close to the vessel’s side, the _zugitai_ who
were higher up being distant from the side the breadth of one thwart,
whilst the _thranitai_, higher still, were the breadth of two thwarts
away. The oar of each rower would pass over the head of the rower below.
But a better theory of the arrangement of the trireme may be presented
as follows, and it has the advantage of satisfying all the evidence
found in ancient literature and pictorial representation. Banish, then,
from your mind all thought of three superimposed tiers, and instead
consider a galley so arranged that the rowers work side by side. Each
of the triple set of oarsmen sits pulling his own separate oar. But
all three oars emerge through one porthole. In front of each bench was
a stretcher, and the rower stood up grasping his oar and pulled back,
letting the full weight of his body fall on to the stroke till at
its end he found himself sitting on the bench. On either side of him,
at the same bench, was another rower doing the same exertion. In each
porthole there would thus be three thole-pins to fit three oars. In
this case, then, the _thalamitēs_ would be he who rowed nearest the
porthole. Because he worked the shortest oar and thus had the least
exertion he received the least pay. Next to him sat the _zugitēs_, and
next to the latter came the _thranitēs_, who worked the longest oar,
and therefore did the most work, having to stand on a stool (_thranos_)
in order to get greater exertion on to his oar at the beginning of the
stroke. It is supposed that the rowers’ benches were not all in the
same plane, but that the second would be higher than the first, and the
third higher than the second.
The number of oars in an ancient trireme was as many as 170. These oars
were necessarily very long, and time was kept sometimes by the music
of a flute, or by the stroke set by the _keleustes_, who was on board
for that purpose. This he did either with a hammer of some sort, or his
voice. And there is at least one illustration showing such a man using
a hammer in an oar-propelled boat for that purpose.[7] The inscriptions
which were unearthed some years ago, containing the inventories of
the Athenian dockyards, belonging to the years between 373 B.C. and
323 B.C., have been collected and published. And it is from them that
we obtain such valuable information as the number of oarsmen which
the biremes carried. This number was usually 200, and was disposed
in the ship as follows: There were 54 _thalamitai_, 54 _zugitai_, 62
_thranitai_, and 30 _perineo_. The exact meaning of the latter word
is supercargoes or passengers, but they were carried perhaps as spare
oarsmen in case any became disabled.
All oars were worked together against the tholes, and as we know from
the old depictions there was a space left both at bow and stern beyond
the oarsmen, this space being called the _parexeiresia_. The number
of oarsmen just mentioned may seem very large, but having regard to
the speed required for manœuvring and for ramming effectively it is
not excessive. But when a war-vessel was employed on transport duty
so great a host of men was not essential. In the case of a vessel
engaged, for instance, in carrying horses in her hold only sixty
oarsmen were needed. Had you found yourself alongside one of the
war-galleys you would have been struck by its length and leanness more
than by anything else. As you passed round by the bows you would have
observed the two great eyes, one on either side of the hull, through
which in all probability the hawsers passed. Behind these two eyes
were very substantial catheads which projected like great ears from
the ship, and were used primarily for slinging the anchors just as in
the old-fashioned sailing ships of Nelson and after; but, secondly,
for convenience when ramming. Thus, when the terrible shock came, the
catheads would protect the oars of the ship from damage and allow the
utmost speed to be maintained till the last minute--a factor that was
naturally of the highest importance. But also they were sometimes
strengthened with supports so that they might catch in the topsides of
the enemy and do him considerable damage.
As to the ram, which was the pivot of all the ancient naval tactics,
there was one projecting spur below, but above it was another ram to
catch the attacked ship at a second place. These rams were made of
bronze and had three teeth; or if not made of bronze they were of wood
sheathed with that metal. The stempost in these craft rose high in the
air, and each ship had a distinguishing sign consisting either of a
figurehead or some relief or painting at the bows. Of the two kinds of
sails which these vessels carried, the larger was put ashore prior to
battle, and only the smaller one retained. And as there were two sizes
of sails, so there were two sizes of masts to correspond. Besides the
halyards, brailing ropes, cables, braces, sheets, and forestay already
alluded to, there were also backstays to support the masts. This was
up to about the year 400 B.C., but, at any rate, by 330 B.C. triremes
had simply mast, yard, sail, ropes, and the loops of brailing ropes, a
simplified form of the earlier brails.
[Illustration: TERRA-COTTA VASE IN THE FORM OF A TRIREME’S PROW.
Showing eye and both upper and lower ram, each with triple teeth.]
But additional to the triremes which had been first built at Corinth,
were the quadriremes which first appeared in the year 398 B.C. As to
their nature, their complement, and other details we know nothing. But
it is legitimate to suppose that if the triremes rowed three men to a
bench these were manned by four men on each bench rowing four oars in
a similar manner. In the same year that first saw the quadriremes were
built also quinquiremes. As to their size and complement we know just
this much--that at the battle of Ecnomus the Roman and Carthaginian
quinquiremes carried about 300 rowers and 120 combatants each.
Probably, like the medieval quinquiremes, they rowed five men to each
oar; or, alternatively, the five men each pulled an oar through the
same porthole.
Some of the later developments of the marine instinct in the
Mediterranean and adjacent seas became grotesque. Personal pride and
a keen sense of rivalry caused the King of Sicily and his brother
sovereigns of Macedonia, Asia, and Alexandria during the fourth and
third centuries B.C. to construct men-of-war on a huge scale. A temple
in Cyprus commemorates the builder of a twenty- and a thirty-fold
vessel. But there was even a forty-fold vessel constructed by Ptolemy
Philopator about the year 220 B.C., which was the size of one of our
big liners of to-day. Two hundred and eighty cubits she measured in
length, thirty-eight she was wide. Her stem rose 48 cubits above the
water with only a 4-cubit draught, while the stern-ornament was 53
cubits high in the air. Fitted with a double prow which had seven rams,
a double stern with four steering paddles 30 cubits each in length,
the largest of her oars measured 38 cubits in length, but they were
nicely balanced by weighting them with an equipoise of lead near the
handles. Twelve strong cables 600 cubits long girded her together, and
her complement was far greater than any vessel of modern times, four
thousand oarsmen, 400 sailors, 2850 soldiers, to say nothing of the
retinue of servants and the stores which she carried besides. There
was also an enormous Nile barge 280 cubits long, built by Sesostris,
but such craft as the fore-mentioned must be looked upon less as an
opportunity for practising the seaman’s art than as a vulgar display of
wealth.
The true war-vessel was made in the proportions of length seven or
eight times her width, and drew about 3 feet of water. Light, shallow,
and flat, not particularly seaworthy, they were utterly different
from the round, heavy, strong, decked merchantman. The war-galley’s
triple-spiked ram had come into use as far back as 556 B.C. The galley
was most certainly fast and built of fir with a keel of oak. Competent
modern authorities agree in estimating the speed of the galley and
merchantman in those days as about 7½ to 4 (or 5) knots respectively.
[Illustration: PORTIONS OF EARLY MEDITERRANEAN ANCHOR IN LEAD FOUND OFF
THE COAST OF CYRENE.
(In the British Museum.)]
When stone was discarded and metal anchors began to be adopted
about the year 600 B.C., they were made first of iron. Some idea of
the weight of the holding tackle in vogue may be gathered from the
statement that an anchor weighing less than 56 lbs. was used in the
Athenian navy. (For the sake of comparison, it may be added that this
is about the weight of a modern 10-ton yacht’s bower anchor.) Stone
and lead were affixed to these anchors by iron clamps near the bottom
of the shank. The ships of the Athenian navy carried each a couple
of anchors, while large merchant ships carried several, as we know
from the voyages of St. Paul. Cork floats were employed for buoying
the anchors, as to-day, and also served the purpose of lifebuoys.
Usually the ships rode to rope cables, but sometimes to chain ones. It
can readily be imagined that when these light ships pitched fore and
aft into a sea the two large steering oars at the high stern would be
frequently out of the water, and thus quite easily the vessel would
not be under command. In such instances another pair was placed at the
bows. Like the modern Arabs, the early seamen of the Mediterranean
had to go aloft as best they could by climbing the sail, the mast, or
hanging their weight on any rope they could find.
“Curiously,” says Mr. Torr in his invaluable little book “Ancient
Ships,” to which I am considerably indebted, “the practice was always
to brail up half the sail when the ship was put on either tack,
the other half being thereby transformed into a triangle with base
extending from the middle of the yard to the leeward end of it, and
apex terminating in the sheet below.” Apparently, when the yard was
braced round the sail was furled on the arm that came aft, but left
unfurled on the arm that went forward.
It is quite certain that the ancient Mediterranean seamen did perform
voyages at night when they had attained to experience and confidence,
and there is at least one plain reference in Greek literature to a
lighthouse, as in the following passage: “No longer dreading the
rayless night-mist, sail towards me confidently, O seafarers; for all
wanderers I light my far-shining torch, memorial of the labours of the
Asclepiadæ.”[8]
Some of the early vase paintings show the war-galley not with a ram as
developed subsequently, but a pig’s snout, and the _korumba_ or poop
extremity, shaped like a cow’s horn, could be lopped off by the victor
and retained as a trophy. And in looking at these ancient galleys one
must not forget that they were built not as the English shipbuilders
of, say, the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries laid down ships.
Galleys were built far more quickly and easily--whole fleets of
them--when the first rumour of war arrived. Capable as they were of
being put together with greater dispatch, launched with far greater
ease, and needing many tons less material than one of the famous wooden
walls which in later years were to sail the seas, it required not quite
so much enterprise if the ancients desired ships, and consequently
there was no small inducement for men to become expert in the things
of the sea. How important was the shipbuilding industry regarded by
the Mediterraneans may be seen from the careful arrangements made a
long time ahead for obtaining adequate supplies of timber. About the
year 380 B.C. a treaty was made between Amyntas III and the Chalkidians
regulating the export and import of shipbuilding materials; for it
must not be forgotten that southern Makedon, the Chalkidic peninsula,
and Amphipolis were the chief sources whence Athens derived its _xula
naupegesima_--ship-timber--for her dockyards. This record is found in a
marble which was discovered at Olynthos, and is now at Vienna.
At Corinth and other places there were all the accessories of a
shipbuilding yard on a big scale, including proper slips, and even
ship-tramways running down to the sea for hauling ships ashore. At such
yards long, narrow rowing galleys and round, broad sailing merchant
ships were put together with all the skill which the Greeks possessed.
Here hulls were built out of pine, cedar, and cypress, while the
interiors were constructed of pine, lime, plane, elm, ash, acacia,
or mulberry. Here we could have watched the masts and yards being
fashioned out of fir or pine, whilst others were busy caulking seams
with tow, or heating the wax and tar over the cauldrons.
But the picture of the ancient Greek shipbuilding activity is far
from complete owing to the comparatively scant material which
exists. In 1834, when the workmen were digging the foundations for a
building at the Piræus, they came upon a Roman or Byzantine drain,
and discovered it to be lined with slabs of marble which were covered
with inscriptions. These were some of the inventories of the Athenian
dockyards of the fourth century B.C., and will be found published in
August Böckh’s “Corpus Inscriptionum Atticarum,” Vol. II, Part II, p.
158.
In any consideration of the Greek seamen we must think of them as
existing almost exclusively for one purpose--not for trading or
exploring or fishing, but for fighting. Into the latter was poured
practically all their seafaring energy. Their general naval strategy
consisted of two kinds. The first consisted in reproducing afloat the
principles of fighting on shore. To this end the galleys were massed
with troops as many as they could hold, and so soon as the engaging
combatants could get close enough they attacked each other with spears
and shot arrows from their bows. The victory therefore came to that
floating army which had the most numerous and ablest soldiers. Brute
force rather than tactics: energy rather than skill won the day.
And thus it continued until about the end of the fifth century B.C.,
when another method of fighting was introduced and developed by the
Athenians to its most perfect state. This consisted as follows: The
well-manned, quickly-darting galley shot out against the enemy,
pecked deeply--viciously--with its beak, and then hurried out of
the danger sphere as quickly as it had entered. Connected with the
general strategy of ramming there were two distinct schemes of tactics
employed. The first was called _diekplous_, or sailing through. This
consisted of breaking the enemy’s line. A single line of galleys would
pass between the enemy’s line, make a sharp turn, and then swoop down
on to them from astern, doing the utmost damage with their rams. The
other was technically known as _periplous_, or sailing around, and
consisted in outflanking the enemy’s ships so as to charge them with
the beak against their broadside. Thus it will be seen that neither of
these manœuvres involved a direct prow-to-prow attack, for the reason
that the Athenian ships were too light as to the bows. Prior to a fight
protective awnings of sailcloth or horsehair were spread over the open
spaces on these galleys, and every protection that could be afforded
the essential oarsmen was provided. Everything points to the fact that
the Greek fleets were properly organised and drilled. An admiral’s
ship was distinguished by a flag as well as any purple or vermilion
sail which she might carry so as most easily to be discernible across
the waters. When the fleet was at sea doing a passage before a fair
wind bound for the battle area, the admiral’s sail would in itself be
sufficient for a sign. But, as already emphasised, sails were lowered
before the battle commenced, and it is probable that either the flag
was displayed somewhere about the ship in that case, or that some
other method, such as the colour of the hull, was employed to cause
the discrimination. It is probable that the Greek admiral’s ship at
night, like that of the Roman admiral, carried three lights, the other
warships having one light each, except the transports, which were
distinguished by two.
[Illustration: SHIELD SIGNALLING.]
In battle a national flag was used so as to facilitate recognition of
one’s own vessels from those of the enemy. And, as illustrative of
the development of the early naval tactics, it is well to notice that
there existed a signalling code--the displaying of a purple flag, for
instance, being the signal for going into action. Mr. Torr mentions the
interesting fact that attempts were made at semaphoring with a single
flag, and further at signalling by flashing the sunlight from a shield.
In addition to the above, signals were made for getting under way, for
altering the formation of the fleet, for bringing-to, as well as for
disembarking troops.
Their seamanship was necessarily simple, because their ships had no
complicated gear and were primarily rowing craft. We know that they
used the sounding lead armed with grease, and the numerous landmarks
of the Ægean Sea and the neighbouring waters would be more than well
known to those in command of the ships sailing. When one thinks of
the bare simplicity of the Mediterranean galley, the fighting ship of
Tudor times with all its sails and rigging and running gear points
to a far more elaborate species of seamanship with a corresponding
increase of anxiety. As to the division in supervising the ship’s work,
the officers consisted as follows: The captain of the trireme--called
_trierarchos_--was in supreme command of his ship. Under him came the
_kubernetes_ or helmsman. Then forward stood the officer in command of
the bow--the _proreus_ or look-out man. Under these three officers the
ship was manœuvred in such a manner that either the enemy’s hull might
be pierced or, at any rate, his protruding lines of oars smashed into
splinters, thus rendering him an easy prey.
For the most part the representations of ancient classical ships have
been so carefully made that they have every appearance of accuracy,
taking into consideration the possibilities of wind, sails, and sea,
but occasionally mistakes are made which show that the artist certainly
was not a seaman. In the accompanying illustration[9] we have an
instructive picture of a penteconter. She sets two sails with a bowline
shown on the mizzen, but interesting as the picture is in many ways,
yet the sails are clearly not set in accordance with the wind. The
steering oar at the side and the flag on the staff at the bows will be
immediately noticed.
[Illustration: GREEK PENTECONTER FROM AN ANCIENT VASE.
That the artist was not a seaman is obvious from the ludicrous way in
which the sails are depicted.]
To sum up, then, the Greek seamen evolved their ships as follows:
Like the Egyptians and Phœnicians before them, they began with a
penteconter, which means that each man pulled an oar and that there was
but one tier of twenty-five on either side of the ship. Next, inasmuch
as they wanted increased power and speed--possibly because the ships
were being built more strongly and thus needed more vehemently to be
rammed--so they had to increase the number of their oarsmen and to
lengthen their ship. This involved a risk of hogging, so the hull was
engirdled; or when that was dispensed with a deck was added to join
forecastle and poop, and gave facilities for a second tier of rowers.
In the next step we get the introduction of triremes, quadriremes,
and quinquiremes, which multiplied the number of men rowing from each
bench, but placed all the men on one bench pulling their oars through
the same porthole. After this come the monstrosities of the powerful
Egyptian, Sicilian, and other kings, in whose ships each oar was
probably pulled by any number of men from six to forty. But luxury
certainly came afloat at no late date. Professor Flinders Petrie
calls attention[10] to the extraordinary analogy between the work of
the Mykenæans and that of the Egyptians in the grandly embroidered
squaresails painted in the frescoes at Mykenæ. Certainly as far back as
232 B.C. there were mosaics to be seen on the magnificent ship of Hiero
II of Syracuse.[11]
Not less interesting were the ships and ways of ancient Rhodes, which
in like manner had its dieres, trieres, tetreres, penteres, even up to
seven- and nine-fold ships. In addition to these they had a swift type
of their own invention, having one bank of oars, called celoces. They
were wont, also, to use another fast type of craft called triemioliæ,
which had no fighting deck stretching from end to end. The usual
Rhodian naval tactics consisted in endeavouring to run through the
enemy’s line and break the oars of his ships as they passed. Afterwards
the Rhodians would then turn and ram them at the stern or else on the
beam, always carrying away something that was essential for working the
ship unless they could sink her forthwith.
They were very fond of one device in particular. When they were
positively compelled to ram stem to stem they used to make provision
by depressing their own bows as deep as possible in the water, so
that while the enemy’s ram struck them high above the water-line, the
Rhodian teeth holed the other ship well _below_ the water. After the
impact was over and the two ships fell apart the enemy was in a sinking
condition, whereas the Rhodian could, by removing his ballast and some
of his men aft, elevate his bows well above the water-line. But just as
was discovered in modern ironclads fitted with rams, it was found that
the rammer often came off as grievously as the rammed. At the battle
of Chios in 201 B.C. one galley left her ram in the enemy’s ship,
promptly filled and sank. At the battle of Myonnesos in 190 B.C., when
a Rhodian ship was ramming an enemy the anchor of the former caught
in the latter. The Rhodian ship endeavoured to go astern to clear
herself, but as she did so the cable got foul of her oars so that she
was incapacitated and captured. During this same battle the Rhodians
affixed braziers of fire which hung over the bows. In trying to avoid
these, the Syrian ships exposed their broadsides to the Rhodian rams,
so that it became a choice of two evils.
The Rhodians were fine, able seamen, and well they needed to be. But
even with the smart handling of their fast little craft they had all
their work cut out to keep off the embarrassing attentions of the
Cretan pirates during the second century B.C. On the biggest of their
galleys the Rhodians erected deckhouses with portholes for their
powerful catapults and archers. The custom of employing fireships,
which remained in vogue for many centuries down to the time of the
Armada and after, was already being employed by about the year 300
B.C. The Rhodians, too, had their proper organisation in naval matters
as distinct from any desultory measures. In the port of Rhodes they
had their dockyards, which were kept up at a great cost. And there
is something curiously modern in the stringent regulations kept
for preserving the dockyard secrets. Any unauthorised person who
intruded into certain parts thereof was punished with death. And this
strict rule was not peculiar to Rhodes, but obtained at Carthage and
elsewhere. In order to protect their harbours against the assaults
of the enemy, booms were laid across the entrances, and engines were
mounted on merchant ships moored near the harbour-mouth.
The Rhodians were great shipbuilders, and in their sheds was kept many
a craft ready to put to sea. But as Britain to-day builds warships for
nations other than herself, so it was with Rhodes, and to this end she
used to have brought to her immense quantities of timber, iron, lead,
pitch, tar, resin, hemp, hair (for caulking), and sailcloth. Even human
hair was employed in the service of the ship, and at the time of need
the ladies of Rhodes, Carthage, and Massilia cut off their tresses
and yielded it up for the making of ropes. The Rhodian squadrons were
usually of three ships or multiples of three, and every year a squadron
went forth for its sea experiences. The trieres, which carried as
many as two hundred men, each voyaged as far as the Atlantic. Fine
swimmers, fine seamen, their sea prowess was the cause of the greatest
admiration on the part of the Greeks. “It was a proverb,” says Mr.
Torr in his “Rhodes in Ancient Times,”[12] “that ten Rhodians were
worth ten ships,” and we must attribute their natural instinct and
acquired skill for marine matters to that fortunate accident of being
an island nation--a circumstance which has always, in all parts of the
globe, meant so much to the progress and independence of a nation.
Furthermore, the port of Rhodes was an important point on the line of
commerce, and this fact also must be taken into account in reckoning up
the influences at work for encouraging the marine arts, especially in
inculcating an interest and admiration for the things of the sea. For
those great merchant ships which used to sail to Egypt and come back
to Greece laden with corn were accustomed to make Rhodes their port of
call, and we cannot doubt that the sojourn of these big vessels with
their impressive bulk and remarkable spars would make a powerful appeal
to the imagination of the local sailormen and shipwrights always on the
look-out for new ideas. Then, too, they had their own overseas trade,
for large quantities of wine were exported from Rhodes to both Egypt
and Sicily. Even by the third century B.C. the Rhodians were strong
both as a naval and commercial nation. Their maritime laws were so
excellent that they were afterwards adopted by Rome, and even to-day
much of the world’s best sea law can be traced back to the people of
that Mediterranean island.