The Emperor's Elephant(64)

‘What’s happening?’ I asked one of the crew, an older man with grizzled, close-cropped hair, and dressed in a torn dirty shirt and ragged trousers.

He understood my Latin well enough to answer. ‘Trying to find exactly where so much water is getting in. The leak is bad, and gaining on us.’

One of the men down in the hold looked up, saw the circle of faces peering down, and gave an angry shout. Beside me two of the crew hurried off to fetch extra buckets and lowered them on ropes. They were filled with bilge water, then hauled up hand over hand, and their contents dumped over the side.

Abram had come up to join me and, after questioning the old man in Greek, he turned to me. ‘The ship has a pump, but it is very old and it broke on the way to the salt jetty. That’s why they’re having to use buckets.’

‘Can’t the pump be repaired?’ I enquired.

The dragoman shook his head. ‘Apparently the pump is such an ancient design that the broken part is impossible to replace.’

Down in the hold Protis surfaced and waded across to the foot of the ladder. When he stepped out on deck, he was breathing heavily, his chest heaving. Water dripped from his sodden clothes and pooled on the sun-baked planks of the deck.

‘A major leak,’ he announced. ‘But God only knows where it is.’

Osric had joined us from where he had been helping Walo set out bowls of drinking water for the dogs tethered along the ship’s rail. They had to be kept well away from the aurochs’ cage as their barking still enraged the great beast.

Now my friend asked mildly, ‘Could the leak be something to do with the repair you mentioned earlier, the one that had delayed your arrival at the salt jetty?’

The young Greek treated Osric to a look that was both exasperated and condescending. ‘Unfortunately there’s no access to that section of the hull. There’s too much ballast in the way.’

Osric remained composed. ‘Maybe it would be worth stretching a canvas on the outside of the hull in that area, using ropes. That might slow the leak enough for us to reach harbour,’ he suggested calmly.

I recalled that, earlier in his life, my friend had voyaged on trading ships from Hispania. He must have learned this technique at that time.

Protis gave my friend another look, more of surprise this time. ‘I’ve heard of such a thing being done, but I’ve never tried it myself. I doubt if my men will agree. It’s new to them and some can’t swim.’

‘I’m willing to go over the side and set the sail in place,’ Osric volunteered.

Protis pursed his lips, uncertain what to do. It was the first time I had seen his self-confidence falter. ‘It means stopping the ship while she’s sinking and that uses up precious time. If it’s a failure, the vessel will take on so much water that she will founder before we reach land.’

Unexpectedly, Abram spoke up. ‘I will give Osric a hand if someone will tell me what to do.’

Protis seized his chance to reassert his captain’s role. ‘The principle’s straightforward. The crew on deck lowers a spare sail overboard close to where we think there is a leak. The swimmers position the sail correctly and the inflow sucks the canvas over the hole. We then hold the sail in place with ropes around the ship and get her into harbour and mend her properly.’

‘So there’s no time to waste,’ said Abram. He started to strip off his shirt.

Protis gave a quick grin of excitement. ‘If this succeeds, it’ll be the talk of Massalia!’

He shouted to the helmsman to bring the ship into the wind, and for the rest of the crew to lower the mainsail and bring aft the artemon.

The artemon proved to be a small square sail normally set on its own mast in the bow of the ship. While the men readied it as a patch for the hull, I reflected how strange it was to find ourselves in such serious danger when everything about us was so tranquil. The wind had fallen away to the slightest breeze and the sun still shone from a cloudless sky. Without the mainsail, the ship had come to a complete stop and lay rocking very gently on the calm sea. The gulls continued to circle and soar around us. A few settled on the glassy sea, stretching their wings for a moment before folding them in place, then paddling close around us and inspecting our activity with beady eyes, always hoping for scraps of food. Everything was placid, except that the land was uncomfortably far away and, if I listened carefully, I could catch the faintest sound of water lapping back and forth inside the hold.

Our ship was slowly sinking beneath us.

Osric and Abram got down into the small ship’s boat. Normally towed astern, the skiff was drawn alongside and tied close to the suspected area of the leak. From there the two men directed the path of the little sail as it was lowered overboard and pulled under the hull. When it had disappeared underwater they took turns to dive down and guide it into place. From the rail above, Walo and I looked down as they worked. Protis ran back and forth, now encouraging his men as they hauled on the ropes, now rushing to the side of the ship to demand a progress report from the two men in the water.