Capreae was already on their right hand, and the broad bay of Parthenope,24 with its endless perspective of towns and villas, opened before them like a huge pearly shell; the dark ashy cone of Vesuvius25 stood up defiantly over the plain where, a short time since, it had engulfed the blooming towns of Herculaneum, Pompeii and Stabiae. Now there rose from its summit only a filmy cloud of smoke, ruddy in the light of the mounting sun. Farther on, the quays of Puteoli were discernible, the stately buildings of Baiae26 and the islands of Aenaria and Prochyta.27 On the left hand the distance was unlimited; vessels laden with provisions from Alexandria28 and merchant-ships from Massilia slowly crossed the horizon like visions; others, with every sail set, flew across the bay to disembark their precious freight in the emporium of Puteoli, whence it would be carried to lay at the feet of Rome, the all-absorbing and insatiable mistress of the world.
Meanwhile the slaves had laid the table under the awning with fine cloths, had arranged couches and seats and strewn the spot with a few flowers, and were now standing ready to serve the morning meal at a sign from their young master. The weary night-rowers had half an hour ago been relieved by a fresh crew, and the fine boat flew on with double rapidity, for a fresh breeze had risen and filled the sails. In an instant the whole face of the waters had changed, and as far as the eye could reach danced crest on crest of foam.
Aurelius wrapped himself more closely in his Tarentine travelling-cloak29 and involuntarily glanced at Magus, the Gothic slave who stood by his side; but Magus did not seem to see his master’s look, he was gazing motionless and with knitted brows in the direction of Baiae. Then he shaded his eyes from the glare with his right hand.
“Hva gasaihvis.30 What do you see?” asked Aurelius, who sometimes spoke in Gothic to the man.
“Gasaihva leitil skipκύβιον,” answered the Goth. “A little boat out there not far from the point. If it is the same in your southern seas, as in our northern ones, these good folks would be wise to get their cockleshell to shore as fast as may be. When the sea is covered with eider-down in such a short time, it generally means mischief.”
“You have eyes like a northern sea-eagle. It is indeed, a small boat, hardly visible among the tossing waves, it cannot have more than eight oarsmen at most.”
“There are but four, my lord,” said the Goth. “And with them three ladies.”
The wind was rising every instant; the trireme parted the water like an arrow, and the prow, now rising and now sinking on the billows, dipped in them far above the large metal ornaments.
“It may indeed be a serious matter,” said Aurelius; “not for us – it must be something worse than this that puts the proud ‘Batavia’31 in peril – but for the ladies in that little bark…”
He turned round. “Amsivarius,” he cried to the head oarsman. “Tell your men to give way with a will; and you, Magus, go and desire Chrysostomus to alter our course.”
In a few seconds the vessel’s head was turned round a quarter of a circle and was making her way straight into the bay. The accelerated thud of the time-keeper’s hammer sounded a dull accompaniment to the piping wind; the sea surged and tossed, and the deep-blue sky, where there still was not a cloud to be seen, beamed incongruously bright over the stormy main. They were now within a hundred yards of the small boat, which was one of the elegant pleasure-barks used by the gay visitors to Baiae for short excursions in the bay. As the trireme came up with them, the rowers gave up their futile struggle with the raging elements and only tried to avoid being capsized. The ladies, it could be seen were much agitated; two of them, a richly-dressed woman of about forty and a young and blooming girl sat clinging to each other, while the third, tumbled into a heap at the bottom of the boat, held an amulet32 in her hand, which she again and again pressed fervently to her lips.
Aurelius gave a shout from the trireme, which the boatmen eagerly answered, and a sailor on board the Batavia flung a rope with a practised hand to the fore[Pg 15]most of the men in the smaller vessel – the slave hastily tied it fast and cried out “ready,” the sailor pulled firmly and steadily, the rope stretched taut, the little boat came on and in a few minutes lay under the lee of the galley like a fish judiciously hooked and landed. In two minutes more it was fast to the side of the trireme, and the ladies and the crew were placed in safety.
Aurelius, leaning against the stern-bulwark, had watched the proceedings with anxious interest and now, as the ladies, exhausted by the tossing they had had, sank on to the couches under the canopy, he politely went forward and invited his unexpected visitors to go down into the more sheltered cabin rooms of the trireme. The younger lady rose at once, and with a dignified eagerness expressed their thanks. Nor was it long before the elder had quite recovered herself; only the old woman who held the amulet hid her pale face in the pillows as if she were stunned, while she trembled and quaked in every limb.
“Come, stand up, Baucis,” said the young girl kindly. “The danger is over.”
“Merciful Isis33 save and defend us!” groaned the old woman, turning the amulet in her fingers. “Preserve us from sudden death and deliver us in danger! I will offer thee a waxen ship,34 and sacrifice lambs and fruits as much as thou canst desire!”
“Oh, you superstitious simpleton!” said the girl in her ear. “How am I to bring you to your senses? Pray rather to the almighty Jupiter, that he may enlighten your ignorance! But come now – the noble stranger who has taken us on board his ship is growing impatient.”
A shrill cry was the only answer, for the vessel had given a sudden lurch and the old woman, who was sitting with her legs under her on the couch, was thrown off somewhat roughly.
“Oh, Isis of a thousand names!” she whimpered piteously. “That has cost me two or three ribs at least and a score of weeks on a sick-bed! Barbillus – you false priest – is that all the good your amulet is? Was it for this that I had my forehead sprinkled with water out of the sacred Nile,35 and paid fifty sesterces36 for each sprinkling? Was it for this that I laid fresh bread on the altars? Oh woe is me, what pain I am in!”
While she was thus besieging heaven with complaints, Magus the Goth had with a strong hand picked up the little woman and set her on her feet.
“There, leave off crying, mother,” said he good-humoredly. “Roman bones are not so easily broken! But make haste and get below; the storm is increasing fast. See, my master is leading your ladies down now.” And as Baucis gave no sign of acting on the slave’s advice, she suddenly found herself lifted up like a feather in his strong and sinewy arms and carried to the hatchway, to the great amusement of the bystanders.
“Madam,” said Aurelius to the elder lady, when his guests were snugly under shelter in the eating-room, “I am a Roman knight37 from the town of Trajectum in Batavia, far north of this, not far from the frontier of the Belgae. My name is Caius Aurelius Menapius, and I am on my way to Rome as being the centre of the inhabited world, in order to improve and extend my knowledge and perhaps