We have already mentioned that when a galley was cleared for action she sent her big spars and sails ashore. One set of double halyards of course served for these, the larger sails and spars being no doubt for fair weather when near the shelter of the land. Mr. Torr in his excellent little book,[15] which is a mine of information, the result of considerable classical research, gives the name of akation to the smaller gear—mast, sail and yard included. He mentions the very interesting fact that the expression “hoisting the akation” became synonymous with “running away” from the enemy. Aristophanes made use of the phrase in a play produced in 411 B.C.

The names dolon in 201 B.C. and artemon found mentioned about 100 B.C., were also used to indicate the smaller masts and sails. We shall refer to this latter again presently. Anchors are supposed to have been among the inventions of Anacharsis. In the earliest times they were, as one would expect, merely a heavy weight of stone. Then they were made of iron, and later on of lead. Fig. 18 shows that the shape was a cross between a modern “mushroom” anchor and the ordinary one in everyday use. The triangular space at the crown was used for bending on a tripping line. The illustration is of a coin found in Apollonia (in Thrace), and now in the British Museum. The date is about 420 B.C. Two anchors were carried by galleys, and three or four by merchantmen. Even in those days the mariners understood the usefulness of marking the position of their anchors with cork floats. The cables were of chain and of rope. Flags and lights were used on the admiral’s ship, three being allowed for the latter and one for galleys.

The illustration in Fig. 19 has been taken from De Baïf’s book,[16] not so much because it gives a representative picture of what a Roman warship was like, as for the fact that the various parts of the ship may by this means be made somewhat clearer than if we had an ancient relief before us. I have, up till now, throughout this chapter, included Roman vessels under the description given to the Greek ships, there being for a long time but little difference. In Fig. 19, A is the fighting top; BB are the ends or “horns” of the sail yards; CC are the antennæ or yards; D is the mast; E is the carchesium or upper part of the mast to which the halyards led; F is the trachelus, being half-way up the mast; G is the pterna or heel of the mast; HH are the opiferi funes or braces; I is a rope—calos (ladder); KK are the backstays; L is the figurehead, the parasemon or distinguishing mark, so that in a fleet of ships, each alike as to rig and size, this would be very necessary; M is the stern; N is the turret or forecastle already discussed above; O is the prow; P is the all-vigilant eye which the ship was supposed to possess; Q is the rostrum, beak or boar’s head, while R is the rostrum tridens with its three-toothed ram; S is the epotides or cathead whence the anchor was let down. The word is used by Euripides and Thucydides. T is the katastroma or flying deck, that the marines might be able to fight without hindering the rowers; V, of course, shows the oars, X the hull; Y is the dryochus which properly means one of the trestles or props on which the keel for a new ship is laid; Z is the clavus or handle of the tiller; “&” refers to the tiller itself.

Fig. 20 is also taken from De Baïf, and is reproduced here not as being an accurate representation of a Roman sailing ship, but because it well illustrates by its exaggeration several points not easily discernible in other reproductions. The inclined mast in the bows carries the artemon sail, but it is out of all proportion. A is the steersman; BB are the oarsmen; C is the πρωράτης, or in Latin proreta—the look-out man; D represents the beak—τα ἀκρωτήρια, the extremities of the ship; E is the θρόνος, or seat of authority for the steersman. (Compare a similarity in the illustration of Furttenbach’s galley, in Fig. 58.)

Coming now to the ships of much later date, the dimensions were sometimes pushed to vast extremes. Exulting as we rightly are in these days of magnificent liners of immense tonnage and luxurious comfort, it seems astounding that the ancients, when they had embraced self-indulgence whole-heartedly and set forth to throw away their fine energies in wasteful and extravagant pleasures, should at so early a date have built mammoth ships fitted with the most luxurious deck-houses, with bronze baths and marbled rooms, with paintings and statues and mosaics in their sumptuous saloons, with libraries and covered walks along the decks, ornamented with rows of vines and fruit trees planted in flower-pots. Even the ample luxury and the small trees on the decks of the Mauretania have not yet reached to such excesses of civilisation. Throughout the third century B.C., several of these monstrosities were built by the kings of Sicily, Macedonia, Alexandria and Asia. The size of one of these “floating palaces” (to use here aptly a much abused expression) may be gathered from the dimensions of one of them, which was 280 cubits long, 38 cubits wide, while the stem rose to a height of 48 cubits above the water. Nevertheless, her draught, in spite of so much top-hamper, did not exceed 4 cubits, and she carried seven rams, was fitted with a double and stern, and had no less than four steering paddles.

Could we but see some of these ancient mammoth ships, could we but wander through their saloons looking up at the wonderful statuary, marvelling at the spaciousness of the tiled galleries, how interesting it would be! How we should thrill with delight at being once more transported into the ships of Roman times! Of course, you will say, such a thing is impossible. Even if representations are preserved on tomb or mosaic of contemporary ships it would be ridiculous to expect that the ships themselves should still exist. But we all know that truth is sometimes wonderfully romantic, and in the history of ships there are some amazing surprises always ready for our attention. Let us say at once, then, that two of these floating palaces of the time of Caligula are in existence to-day in Italy. Their details are interesting to the highest degree, and the following account, based, as will be seen, on actual experiences of those who have been into the ships, agrees with the historical descriptions already referred to. For the valuable particulars of these two ships of Caligula, I am indebted to Mr. St. Clair Baddeley and to Señor Malfatti.[17]

Caligula possessed that overpowering passion for water and ships which throughout the world’s history has always manifested itself in explorer or privateer, yachtsman, or whomsoever else. Suetonius[18] says that this megalomaniac had built two galleys with ten banks of oars, each having a poop that blazed with jewels and sails that were parti-coloured. These “galleys” were fitted with baths, galleries, saloons, and supplied with a great variety of growing trees and vines. In one of these ships, Caligula was wont to sail in the daytime along the coast of Campania, feasting amidst dancing and concerts of music.

Now, in the northern end of the Lake of Nemi, not far from the Campanian coast, there still lie to this day, at right angles to each other, two such galleys as Suetonius describes. Recent research beneath the water has revealed much that is invaluable to us in the study of the sailing ship. From the inscriptions on several lengths of lead piping laid for the purpose of supplying the galleys with water, and which have been brought up by divers, it is proved that these belonged to Caligula, and that therefore they are of the remote period of 37-41 A.D. And this date has been further corroborated by the discovery of tiles and bronze sculptures found on board.

The history of the efforts to make these galleys speak to us from the depths of their watery grave is almost as interesting as their very existence. During the fifteenth century, owing to the fact that fishermen on the lake frequently in their nets drew ashore objects of wood and bronze, divers were sent below and discovered the undoubted existence of a ship of some sort. At last ropes were made fast and endeavours were made to draw the vessel to shallow water, but these efforts were only crowned with the unfortunate result of breaking off part of the stem. However, the nails were found to be of bronze, whilst in length some were as much as a cubit. The wood was discovered to be larch, and the vessel to be sheathed with lead, covering a stiff lining of woollen-cloth padding fastened on by bronze studs. It is important to note that the ancients in 37 A.D. had the good sense to realise what Sir Philip Howard, and other naval authorities in the time of Charles II., did not discover until the year 1682, that lead sheathing round a ship, used with iron nails, was bound to set up corrosion.[19]

Further operations on Lake Nemi were suspended until the year 1535, when an expert went below to the ship again. A large amount of her wood was brought to the surface, and was found to consist of pine and cypress, as well as the larch previously noticed. The pegs were of oak, and many bronze nails in perfect preservation were rescued from the deep. These, said the diver, fastened the plate of lead to the hull of the ship. There was also a lining of linen between the lead and the timber, whilst within the ship were pavements of tiles two feet square, and segments of red marble and enamel. He also makes reference to the rooms of this watery palace. As to her size, this was found to be about 450 feet long, and about 192 broad, whilst the height from keel to deck was about 51 feet.

Various attempts were made in 1827 by means of a diving bell, but no success resulted, and it was not until September of 1905 that a fresh search was made by divers, when both galleys were located at a depth of thirty feet of water. “By attaching long cords with corks to the galleys, the divers,” says Mr. Baddeley, “sketched out in outlines on the surface the shape of the vessels.” The length of the other vessel was found to be 90 feet by 26 feet beam. The decks were paved with elaborate mosaic work in porphyry, green serpentine and rosso antico, intermingled with richly-coloured enamel. The bulwarks were found to be cast in solid bronze and to have been once gilded, for traces of the latter were manifest. From the other vessel lying nearer in-shore, the divers brought up various beautiful sculptures. The outer edge of the vessel is covered with cloth smeared with pitch, and over this occur folds of thin sheet lead, doubled over and fastened down upon it with copper nails.

It is thought that these galleys were designed by their builder Caligula in imitation of those he used along the Campanian coast which, though sailing ships, were rather of the nature of floating villas. As to their purpose, it is probable that they were connected with the worship of Virbius and of Diana. There, then, at the bottom of Lake Nemi, these two galleys lie—still in existence, though owing to their long immersion and the depth of the water their ultimate recovery is extremely doubtful.

Among the many interesting items of marine information which we are enabled to gather from the voyages of St. Paul, we find[20] that the lead-line was in use, for we are told that “they sounded and found it twenty fathoms: and when they had gone a little further they sounded again and found it fifteen fathoms.” Also they “were in all in the ship two hundred threescore and sixteen souls,” so she was a vessel of considerable size. Then in the morning, having espied a snug little creek with a good shore for beaching, “when they had slipped their anchors they left them in the sea, at the same time loosing the rudder bands, hoisted up the artemon, and made towards the beach.” They had, no doubt long previously, learned the action which has saved many hundreds of ships, at all times of the world’s history, from foundering, by detaching the cable from the ship and not waiting to heave up the anchor. Moreover, they had found a nice beach under their lee, so the artemon or foresail was hoisted up the small foremast, and she would be able to make the beach without too much way on, and without the enormous amount of work that would have been necessary had the mainsail been set—a proceeding, considering the weather about, that they were not anxious to attempt. “Artemon” is the word used in the Greek of the New Testament: the translation of this as “mainsail” in the authorised version is of course quite wrong. The later ships were fitted with a mainsail and mast, but also a small foremast tilted at an angle of perhaps twenty-three degrees projected out from the bows, on which another small square sail was set. This was the artemon or foresail, and it would be in just such a manœuvre as this, or for giving the ship a sheer when getting up the cable or when coming into port even in fine weather, that this headsail would be found of the greatest use. We must not forget that this kind of foremast and foresail continued right till the beginning of the nineteenth century on all full-rigged ships, in the form of bowsprit and spritsail, until the triangular headsails with which we are so familiar nowadays came in. Finally, before we leave the voyages of St. Paul, we must not omit to notice the reference to the statement that after the anchors had been slipped they loosed the rudder bands. Instead of leaving the rudders to get foul of the stern cables when they had put out the four anchors, or to run the risk of being dashed to pieces by the waves, the ropes extending from the stern to the extremities of the steering oars would be hauled up so that the blades were quite clear of the water. It was a similar operation to a Thames barge hauling up her leeboards. Therefore, having cast off their anchors and being under way again, the rudder-ropes would necessarily be lowered. The same method of “rudder-bands” obtained among the Vikings. If the reader will turn to Fig. 29, of the Gogstad Viking ship, he will readily appreciate this point.

I am not going to enter here into any discussion as to the authorship of the Acts of the Apostles, but whoever he may have been had an accurate knowledge of the ships of his time, for we are able to see just the same kind of ship as St. Paul’s in a merchantman of about the year 50 A.D. and another of seventeen years later. The artemon mast and sail are well shown. It was, of course, the artemon mast that was the forerunner of the modern bowsprit. One can estimate the size of the mercantile ships of the Mediterranean of about the first and second centuries from Lucian, who refers to a merchantman engaged in the corn-carrying trade between Egypt and Italy. Her length was 180 feet, her breadth a little more than a quarter of her length, while her depth from upper deck to bottom of hold was 43½ feet. The registered tonnage of the largest trading ships was about 150.

We have in Fig. 21 a very instructive illustration of two Roman merchant ships of about the year 200 A.D. This has been copied from a relief found near the mouth of the Tiber. The advance in shipbuilding since the times of the Egyptians has continued. The great high stern is still there, the bow remaining lower than the poop. The steering oar is very well shown, together with the “rudder bands” that we have just spoken of. They will be found to be two in number, coming down from the ship’s quarter, and passing through holes bored in the blade of the rudder. The tiller is of considerable length. The decoration under the stern with classical figures is very beautiful, while above is the familiar swan’s neck which accentuates the general duck-like lines of the ship. Three bollards aft and four forward, are seen for mooring purposes. The shape of the stem is worth noting for this must have been fairly common in big ships, and we shall find something very similar in the vessels of Northern Europe up to the fourteenth century. The rigging shows to what knowledge they had attained by now. The dead-eyes for setting up the shrouds, the purchase for getting the powerful forestay down tight, together with a similar arrangement on the artemon mast, are deserving of careful notice. The mainsail will be seen to be hoisted by two halyards, foot-ropes apparently being provided for the men sent up to furl it. I have noticed that in most of the old illustrations depicting men going aloft, the sailors usually ascend naked. This will be observed in the present illustration. The obvious conclusion is that they wished to be perfectly free and unfettered in their movements and to run no risk of their garments being caught in the rigging. The ships are moored to the quay by taking the stay of the artemon ashore. There is a different figurehead on the bows of each ship, while in the background, to the left of the middle of the picture, will be seen the warning beacon previously alluded to, the building below it with small windows being probably the leading lights for coming into the harbour. The sail has a triangular topsail in two pieces without a yard of its own. The yard of the mainsail appears now to be made in one piece instead of two, but the point where, owing to the binding together of the two pieces, the yard was thickest, is still so in the centre. The sheets and braces will be recognised at once, but we must say a word regarding the brails that were now employed. If the reader will examine the sail shown set in this illustration, he will find that the brails pass through rings on the fore-side of the canvas, then either through the top of the sail or just over it, between the yard and the edge of the sail itself, and so down to the stern. In the picture three of the brails are seen coming down so as to be within reach of the steersman. The action of brailing or reefing, then, must have been somewhat similar to the process of drawing up the domestic blinds that are familiar to us by the name of Venetian. The reader will no doubt have seen many drop-curtains in our theatres of to-day worked on the same principle as these brails worked the Roman sails.

The sails were not infrequently ornamented. The present illustration shows a sail bearing the devices of a Roman emperor. Topsails had come into use quite a hundred and fifty years before this ship, but they were far more popular on the Mediterranean than in the more boisterous waters of Northern Europe.

Fig. 22, taken from an earthenware lamp in the British Museum, shows another ship of this period entering harbour. The sail is furled to the yard, there is a crew of six on board, one of whom is at the helm, one is at the stern blowing a trumpet announcing their approach—an incident that one often sees depicted in the early seals of English ships—three men are engaged in furling the sails, and the man in the bows is standing by to let go the anchor. At the extreme left of the picture will be seen the lighthouse. I am sorry it is not possible to give the reader a better illustration of this lamp, but it is of such nature as almost to defy satisfactory reproduction. Fig. 23, taken from another lamp in the same museum, represents a harbour with buildings on the quay in the background. A man is seen fishing from his boat in the foreground, with another man ashore about to cast a net into the water.

I am fortunate in being able to supplement our previous knowledge of ships of this period by some important information that has been brought to light through excavations and discoveries near Tunis in Northern Africa. These were completed by M. P. Gauckler only as recently as the year 1904, and I am indebted to his very interesting account[21] for much of the information to be derived from these. In a building at Althiburus, near to Tunis, a mosaic was unearthed containing about thirty representations of several kinds of sailing and rowing boats. Below nearly every one the artist has thoughtfully put the name of each craft, usually in both Greek and Latin. Not one of these is a war-vessel. This is exceedingly fortunate, since hitherto we have possessed far less information of the trading vessels than of the biremes, triremes and Liburnian galleys. But the ships in the Althiburus mosaic all belong entirely to the mercantile marine. The discovery, in fact, has brought to light the most complete and precise catalogue we possess of ancient ships of Rome. M. Gauckler thinks that this list has been taken from some glossary or nautical handbook written about the middle of the first century before our era. He fixes the date of the mosaics as about 200 A.D., and the evidence of the ships themselves certainly confirms the view that they belong to some period not much before the time of the birth of our Lord.

The mosaic includes a number of craft that were not sailing ships, such as the schedia or raft, the tesseraria, a rowing boat called the paro, the musculus or mydion, and the hippago, a pontoon for transporting horses across a waterway. But whether sailing or rowing boats, they all bear unmistakable traces of the influence of the Phœnician, Greek and Roman war-galleys. Almost every craft shows an effort, not altogether successful, to break away from the design that had dominated the Mediterranean so long, for we must not forget that it is an historical fact that the Romans, though they brought the war-galley as near perfection as possible, did this at the expense of the merchant ships, which they sadly neglected. It is only natural, of course, that a nation that is always at war has no time to expand its merchant shipping. The reverse was the case with the Egyptians, who, being more of a peace-loving nature, developed their cargo ships far more, for it was not until fairly late in Egyptian history that the warship was attended to; we may even go so far as to assert that it was not until the time of the Middle Ages that the merchant ship both of the Mediterranean and the North of Europe, made any real progress. As long as civilisation was scanty and pirates were rampant on every sea, commerce was bound to remain at a standstill. Indeed, in the time of the early Greeks, it was thought no act of discourtesy to ask a seafaring stranger whether he was a pirate or merchant. So accustomed are we in these days to peace and plenty that we have need to remind ourselves constantly that there were no trade routes kept open, no policing of the seas, no international treaties nor diplomatic relations to prevent a peaceful merchant ship from disappearing altogether on the high seas, or staggering into port with the loss of her cargo and most of her crew.

The Egyptian stern still survives in these mosaics with modifications, but the greatest difficulty the naval architects appear to have had was with the bow. What to do with the ram-like entrance has obviously been a source of great worry. In the end, so that the merchant ship might not look too war-like, a curve has been added above the bulwarks at the bows to balance the curve at the waterline of the ram. The rowing arrangements exhibit a square hole in the gunwale for the oar to pass through.

Of the sailing boats and ships depicted in mosaic the corbita shows a freer design than the others. She is more or less crescent-shaped and not unlike the earlier caravels in hull. A ship of burthen, she has a mast, and the steering oar is seen at the starboard. Another illustration of this type of “corvette” is shown with a steering oar at each side, the sail furled to the yard, a couple of braces and the mast supported by six shrouds—three forward and three aft. The mast has a great rake forward, and there appears to be a narrow platform running round the hull as a side-walk, a relic, no doubt, of the flying deck that kept the marines separate from the rowers.

Another sailing ship called the catascopiscus obviously derived her name from the corresponding Greek word meaning to reconnoitre or scout; for she was famous as a light, fast-sailing ship. Her mast and sail are shown in the mosaic, as well as the halyards and the brailing lines.

The actuaria was a light, easily propelled ship, similar to the last. The mosaic (reproduced in Fig. 24) shows the sail furled to the yard and, what is significant, a rope-ladder, up which one of the sailors is ascending. Of the other two men one is sculling with two oars, while the captain is seen in the bows holding a mallet, which he knocks on the boat that the sculler may keep correct time and rhythm in a manner not very far separated from the exhortations of the “cox” of our University eights. This was the kind of ship which Cæsar employed during an expedition to Brittany, and will be referred to again in the next chapter.

Another sailing ship, called by the artist a myoparo, shows two halyards, and the sail divided curtain-like as we saw in the Phœnician ships. She also has the Egyptian stern and a modified galley bow. The myoparo was a light, swift vessel, chiefly used by pirates. The stem of the English word “peir” (meaning to attempt to rob) is thus found in the name of the ship. Plutarch makes use of the name of this species of ship. The prosumia contains just such a sail as we saw in Fig. 21, the brails being very clearly shown. A sailing ship called a ponto has a small artemon foremast and main. The former has shrouds to support it, but the yard and sail are not shown. They would be kept in the hold somewhere, and only fitted when specially needed. This ship is of Gallic origin, and is mentioned by Cæsar, who refers to the “pontones quod est genus navium Gallicarum.”[22] Finally, in these mosaics, we have the cladivata, a ship that resembles the vessel referred to by Mr. Torr in his “Ancient Ships” as having been found at Utica, and belonging to about the year 200 A.D. This cladivata has also two masts and sails of similar size, with the brailing arrangement of this period as already shown. There is some uncertainty concerning the derivation of the word, but it possibly owes its origin to being named after Claudius.

Such, then, was the development of the sailing ship in the waters of Southern Europe. We shall now, leaving behind the first ships that sailed the Mediterranean, proceed in our enquiry to the shores of Northern Europe, and consider what was the nature of their ships which had to voyage under conditions far less encouraging than those of the warm southern seas.