CHAPTER I.
THE FATE OF THE _MELCART_.
The _Melcart_, the sacred ship of Carthage, was on its homeward voyagefrom Tyre, and had accomplished the greater part of its journey insafety; in fact, it was only a score or so of miles away from itsdestination. It had carried the mission sent, year by year, to thefamous shrine of the god whose name it bore, the great temple which theGreeks called by the title of the Tyrian Hercules. This was too solemnand important a function to be dropped on any pretext whatsoever. Never,even in the time of her deepest distress, had Carthage failed to paythis dutiful tribute to the patron deity of her mother-city; and,indeed, she had never been in sorer straits than now. Rome, in the earlydays her ally, then her rival, and now her oppressor, was resolved todestroy her, forcing her into war by demanding impossible terms ofsubmission. Her old command of the sea had long since departed. It wasonly by stealth and subtlety that one of her ships could hope totraverse unharmed the five hundred leagues of sea that lay between herharbour and the old capital of Phoenicia. The _Melcart_ had hithertobeen fortunate. She was a first-rate sailer, equally at home with thelight breeze to which she could spread all her canvas and the gale whichreduced her to a single sprit-sail. She had a picked crew, with nota slave on the rowing benches, for there were always freebornCarthaginians ready to pull an oar in the _Melcart_. Hanno, her captain,namesake and descendant of the great discoverer who had sailed as fardown the African coast as Sierra Leone itself, was famous for hisseamanship from the Pillars of Hercules to the harbours of Syria.
The old man--it was sixty years since he had made his first voyage--waswatching intently a dark speck which had been visible for some time inthe light of early dawn upon the north-western horizon. "Mago," he saidat last, turning to his nephew and lieutenant, "does it seem to you tobecome bigger? your eyes are better than mine."
"Not that I can see," answered the young man.
"She hardly would gain upon us if she has no more wind than we have.Well, I shall go below, and have a bite and a sup."
He wetted his finger and held it up. "It strikes me," he went on, "thatthe wind, if you can call it a wind, has shifted half a point. Tell thehelmsman to put her head a trifle to the north. Perhaps I may have ashort nap. But if anything happens, call me at once."
Something did happen before ten minutes had passed. When Mago had givenhis instructions to the helmsman, and had superintended a slightshifting of the canvas, he looked again at the distant ship. It hadbecome sensibly larger. The wind had freshened out at sea, and wasrapidly bringing the stranger nearer. Mago hurried below to rouse hisuncle. The old man was soon up on deck.
"I wish we were ten miles nearer home," he muttered, after taking a longlook into the distance. "Get the oars out. If she is an enemy, and wantsto cut us off, half a mile may make all the difference."
The order was promptly obeyed, and the rowers bent to their work with awill. But all the will in the world could not make the _Melcart_ movevery fast through the water. She was stoutly built, as became a shipthat had to carry a precious burden through all weather, and she wasfoul with the long sea-voyage. The goal of the race between her and thestranger, which could now be seen to be a Roman ship-of-war, was aheadland behind which, as Hanno knew, was the harbour of Chelys. Let herreach that and she was safe. But it seemed as if this was not to be. TheRoman ship had what wind there was right aft, and, notwithstanding allthe efforts of the _Melcart's_ crew, moved more rapidly through thewater. She would manifestly cut off the _Melcart_ before the headlandwas reached. But Hanno was not yet at the end of his resources.
"Call Mutines," he said to his lieutenant.
Mutines was a half-caste Carthaginian, whose thick lips, flat nose, andwoolly hair indicated a negro strain in his blood. "Mutines," said theold man, "you used to have as good an aim with the catapult as any manin Carthage. If your hand has not lost its cunning, now is the time toshow your skill. Knock that rascal's steering-gear to pieces, and thereis a quarter-talent for you."
"I will do my best, sir," said Mutines; "but I am out of practice, andthe machine, I take it, is somewhat stiff."
The catapult, which was of unusual size and power, had been built, so tospeak, into the ship's forecastle. It could throw a bolt weighing about75 lbs., and its range was 300 yards. While Mutines was preparing theengine, word was passed to the rowers that they were to give six strokesand no more. That, as Mutines reckoned, would be enough to bring himwell within range of the enemy. The calculation was sufficiently exact.When the rowers stopped, the two ships, having just rounded theheadland, were divided by about 350 yards. The impetus of the _Melcart_carried her over about 100 more. When she was almost stationary Mutineslet fly the bolt. He had never made a happier shot. The huge bulletcarried away both the tillers by which the steering-paddles were worked.The ship fell away immediately, and the _Melcart_, for whose rowers thefugleman set the liveliest tune in his repertory, shot by, well out ofrange of the shower of arrows which the Roman archers discharged at her.In the course of a few minutes she had reached the harbour of Chelys.
But her adventures were not over. The captain of the Roman ship wasgreatly enraged at the escape of his prey. To capture so famous a prizewould mean certain promotion, and he was not prepared to resign hishopes without an effort to realize them. As soon as the steering-gearhad been temporarily repaired, he called his sailing-master, andannounced his intention of following the Carthaginian into the harbour.
The man ventured on a remonstrance. "It's not safe, sir," he said; "Idon't know the place, but I have heard that the water is shalloweverywhere except in the channel of the stream."
"You have heard my orders," returned the captain, who was a Claudius,and had all the haughtiness and obstinacy of that famous house. Thesailing-master had no choice but to obey.
Chelys, so called from the fancied resemblance of its site to the shapeof a tortoise, was a small Greek settlement which lay within the regiondominated by Carthage. It was a place of considerable antiquity--older,its inhabitants were fond of asserting, than Carthage itself. For someyears it had maintained its independence, but as time went by thisposition became more and more impossible. Had Chelys possessed anyneighbours of the same race, a league might have given her at least achance of preserving her freedom. But she stood absolutely alone,surrounded by Phoenician settlements, and she had no alternative butto make her submission to her powerful neighbour. She obtained veryfavourable terms. She was free from tribute, no slight privilege, inview of the enormous sums which the ruling city was accustomed to exactfrom her dependencies.[1] She was allowed to elect her own magistrates,and generally to manage her own affairs. To contribute a smallcontingent to the army and navy of the suzerain state was all that wasdemanded of her. It was natural, therefore, that Chelys should be loyalto Carthage--far more loyal, in fact, than most of that city'sdependencies. Rome, which had more than once exacted a heavy sum as theprice of the little town's immunity from ravage, she had no reason tolike.
The incident described above had taken place within full view of thepiers and quays of Chelys. The excited population which crowded them hadhailed with an exulting shout the fortunate shot that had crippled theRoman vessel, and had warmly welcomed the _Melcart_ as she glided intothe shelter of the harbour. Their delight was turned into rage when itbecame evident that the enemy was intending to pursue her. The insolentaudacity of the proceeding excited the spectators beyond all bounds.Stones and missiles of all kinds were showered upon the intruders. Asthe ship was within easy range of the quays on both sides of theharbour, which was indeed of very small area, the crew suffered heavily.
Claudius perceived that he had made a mistake, and gave orders to therowers to back, there not being space enough to turn. It was too late,and when a huge pebble, aimed with a fatal accuracy, struck down thesteersman from his place, the doom of the _Melicerta_--for this was thename of the Roman ship--was sealed. A few moments afterwards shegrounded.
This was, of course, the signal for a determined atta
ck. Hundreds of menwaded through the shallow water and climbed over the bulwarks. The crewmade a brave resistance, but they were hopelessly outnumbered and werecut down where they stood. The magistrates of the city happened to be inconsultation in the town-hall. Disturbed in the midst of theirdeliberations by the sudden uproar they hurried down to the water-side,but were too late to save any but a very few lives. Claudius had stabbedhimself when he saw how fatal a mistake he had made.
Chelys was, of course, in a tumult of delight at its brilliant successin destroying a Roman ship-of-war. Its responsible rulers, however, werevery far from sharing this feeling. A defenceless city, and Chelys waspractically such, for its walls, never very formidable, had beensuffered to fall into decay, must take no part in the hostilities of acampaign. So long as it observes this neutrality it is really better offthan a fortified town, but to depart from this policy is sheer madness.
The magistrates did all they could. They sent back the few prisonerswhom they had been able to rescue from the hands of the populace, to thecommander of the squadron to which the _Melicerta_ had belonged. Theyoffered to pay an indemnity. They went so far as to promise that theringleaders of the riot should be handed over for trial. The Romanadmiral, a Flamininus[2], and so belonging to a family that had morethan once made itself notorious for unusual brutality, would not hear ofmaking any conditions. He determined upon a vengeance which was not theless pleasing because it would be as lucrative as it was cruel. Chelyswas to be visited with the severest penalty known in warfare--all themale inhabitants of the military age and over were to be put to death,the women and children were to be sold as slaves. The slaves fromChelys, as Flamininus, a shrewd and unscrupulous man of business, wellknew, would fetch a high price. They were Greeks, if not of the purestblood, and while barbarians in any number could be easily obtained,Greek slaves were a rare article in the market.
His resolve once taken, Flamininus took every precaution that itsexecution should be as complete as possible. The magistrates, who hadcome to intercede for their countrymen, were detained; no hint of whatwas intended was allowed to reach the doomed city. Landing the halflegion of marines which the squadron carried he occupied in irresistibleforce Chelys and all the roads by which it could be approached or left.His next step was to make what may be called an inventory of the preywhich had fallen into his hands. The census roll of citizens wasseized, and information about their families was purchased from someprisoners who were willing thus to redeem their lives. A few wealthy menand women were allowed to ransom themselves at the highest prices thatcould be extorted from their fears; and then, when a few days had beenallowed for the assembling of the slave-dealers, who, with other animalsof prey, human and non-human, followed the armies and fleets of Rome,Flamininus allowed the deputation to return, and proceeded to executehis sentence.
FOOTNOTES:
1: One paid a talent (£215) per day, making an annual amount, allowing for the difference in the value of money, of not less than a quarter of a million.
2: C. Flamininus was degraded from the Senate for killing a captive in cold blood to entertain his company at dinner.