Nicander’s spine stiffened. He couldn’t do it! Not meekly resign to what was coming.
He began pacing the deck but when he reached the stern he stopped abruptly.
Surely it was not so simple!
‘Sir, where exactly will Taprobane be?’ he asked the captain innocently.
Surprised, the man hesitated and sniffed for the wind, a tiny zephyr coming in over the bow.
‘There!’ he pointed.
Nicander strolled over to where Marius stood glumly. ‘Ready to leave? We have to move fast!’
Marius stared at him as if he was mad.
‘Come with me – don’t look around.’
He led the way aft. ‘Marius, we’ve got just one chance to get away now before we land at Taprobane.’
He nodded almost imperceptibly to past the stern.
Marius followed the direction then went rigid and hissed, ‘No! I’m not! I can’t do it, you know I can’t!’
Nicander gave a cynical smile. ‘You might not like it, but there’s times when you have to, Marius.’
‘But… but…’ he looked again in dismay at the two ship’s boats which bobbed and snubbed at the end of the painter.
One had oars in, probably to act as the lifeboat, the other was bare.
‘You can pull an oar, you told me.’
‘Yes, but…’ spluttered Marius.
‘Sea’s flat calm – we’d make Taprobane in a few hours. I know where it is. Then we lay low until the compulsors have quit the place.’
‘They’d see us get our gear!’
‘That’s why we can’t get it. We act now, this minute.’
‘Leave our gear? Including the letter?’
Nicander looked at him with a twisted smile.
‘Of course it’s no bloody use, is it?’ Marius said weakly.
‘I want you to watch down the deck. Tell me the instant no one is looking. I’ll pull the boat in and cut the rope ready. You jump in and take the oars, I’ll push it off.’
‘Yes, Nico, I’ll do it.’
‘Stout fellow,’ Nicander said, recognising the courage behind it.
He turned to gaze out into the white mist astern as though in contemplation.
For long minutes he held his pose, then blurted nervously, ‘Hurry up!’
‘It’s the captain,’ Marius came back. ‘He’s talking to someone.’
‘This fog won’t stay for ever – we’ve got to get away before it lifts or they’ll be after us!’
There was no answer – then a single word. ‘Now!’
Nicander bent to the bollard where the lines were secured and pulled for his life. He strained and heaved but the boats were a dead weight.
‘Help me!’ he gasped.
Marius hesitated then, shouldering him out of the way, braced against the bollard and hauled mightily. There was movement, then more until it was hand over hand and they came up fast.
Nicander swivelled to glance forward. No one was looking their way.
Marius fended the boats off with his foot.
‘Get in!’ Nicander croaked.
Marius lowered himself in, clambering to the further one, with the oars.
Nicander snatched a look back – the captain was staring aft in astonishment. ‘Quick! Get going!’ he yelped, tumbling in the boat.
There was a commanding shout, then the sound of running feet.
Nicander fumbled for his knife and began a frantic sawing at the rough, hairy rope but it was strong and thick.
Marius had the oars in their pins ready to pull. ‘Cut the fucking thing now!’
Finally the rope parted and fell away.
‘Go!’ shrieked Nicander.
With several quick digs on one oar Marius pivoted the boat about and then with deep, powerful strokes he had the little craft surging away.
As they disappeared into the embrace of the blank, cool whiteness of the fog, angry hails came across the water.
Nicander remembered the captain’s direction: fine to the left of the bow. In the last seconds before the long shape was swallowed up, he had oriented. ‘Cut around, Marius. Head that way.’
There were no sounds, only the rippling of water as they sped on into nothingness.
Nicander sank back. ‘Do you know, I think we’ve made it?’
Marius continued to pull viciously.
‘You can ease off now,’ Nicander said. ‘That is, we don’t know how far you’re going to have to row.’
‘No!’ Marius gasped between pants. ‘If they see us when the fog goes, they’ll sail after us. Those fucking compulsors will force ’em to.’
He lasted a full hour before he lifted the oars. ‘I’m beat. Your turn.’
The last time Nicander had been at the oars had been on the lake along from Leptis Magna, entertaining a lady before he had left for Rome. She had an infuriating giggle, he remembered. He took the oars and settled to the task, leaning far forward and back to get the longest stroke as his brother had taught him. It was tiring but, pacing himself, he endured.
‘When will we know we’ve reached Taprobane?’ Marius grunted, trying to peer into the unbroken white wall.
‘Look down into the water. When you see the bottom shallowing, give a shout.’
Marius stared into the translucent green depths.
After some time they allowed themselves a break. Lying as best they could across the unforgiving wood of the thwarts they sank into blessed rest.
Nicander groaned that they must continue, and he took the hateful oars to start the painful business again.
At least the fog remained. Thick and concealing, it was enabling their escape.
Their world had now shrunk to just them, their boat and a watery void.
‘I think it’s coming on for evening,’ Nicander said nervously, noting the subtle change in the light.
‘What if we don’t make it to Taprobane soon?’ Marius grunted.
‘Only two choices: keep on or stop for the night.’
In the dark they could find themselves in trouble, perhaps careering onto a reef. It was decided that when it became too dim to see down into the depths they would drift until morning. Probably the fog would be gone by then anyway.
Evening drew in. After their exertion at the oars they felt the fog’s clammy embrace keenly, condensation soaking their thin clothes until they shivered with cold. Pangs of hunger increased their misery. It became a trial of endurance.
During the night Nicander realised that by drifting they had lost their sense of direction. When they resumed the oars in the morning would they be on course, or heroically making for the boiling sea? Other horrors reared up in his imagination – sea monsters, a terrible storm, making landfall on a cannibal shore, a giant whirlpool from which none ever returned.
Dawn came at last: the fog was still all about them and as the light increased, their world seemed exactly as it was the previous day. The depths were innocent of sea bottom and there was a deathly silence.
With nothing to give a clue to direction they were helpless. Even if the fog lifted, would it disclose the same never-ending seascape?
He felt the prick of desperation. Without a scrap of food or anything to drink they would be unlikely to last long in this watery wilderness.
The sun rose – and the fog began thinning. The warmth was restoring but what would they see?
The mist began burning off in the tranquil calm.
‘A ship!’ he screamed, standing up.
By the gods, they were saved!
‘Wave, wave!’ Nicander urged in a delirium of relief.
‘That, Greek, is our own fucking ship,’ Marius said dully.
Nicander stared. They must have gone in a complete circle during the night. ‘If we don’t… we won’t survive in this pawky boat,’ he mumbled, his eyes fixed on the distant vision.
Without waiting for comment Marius took to the oars and began pulling to the ship.
By the time they reached it the side was lined with excited figures.
‘Where’ve you been to, you madmen?’ the captain blustered as they were helped aboard.
‘Oh, Marius here was touched by the sun, wished by all means to be off the ship,’ Nicander told him. ‘He got in the boat and tried to get away. Just in time I leapt in and have persuaded him to return.’ He looked around apprehensively for the compulsors.
The captain glared at them. ‘You’ve caused a lot of trouble for us.’
‘But we did return, didn’t we?’ Nicander said innocently.