Arrunteius walked forward and mounted the "castle," a strong tower erected near the prow of Avenging Mars. Similar towers adorned the foredecks of the larger warships. Behind each tower stood a long bridge, one end hinged to a circular pivot on the deck, the other featuring a three-foot spike of iron. In battle it would be swung outboard and dropped so that the spike sank into an enemy deck; forming a boarding bridge for the marines manning every Roman ship. It was called a corvus: "crow."
In addition, every ship was built atop an extra-massive keel, its fore end tipped with a heavy ram of cast bronze.
The Romans had little confidence in their ability to maneuver in action and to ram, but they wanted both to be decisive when accomplished.
In all, the new, Italian-built fleet had nothing like the wildly imaginative innovations of the Alexandrian fleet, but its improvements had been well thought out, and some, like the tower and the corvus, had proven successful nearly two centuries before, in the first war against Carthage.
About the men, Arninteius was not so certain. The sailors were mainly Greek, each with an Italian understudy learning the craft. The rowers were Italians, working their way into Roman favor in the most arduous way imaginable. They had mastered the skills of the oar and now took pride in their work. They had formed their own guild with its special gods, rituals and sacrifices. Their loyalty they would prove in action.
The marines, likewise, were mostly Italians, with a leavening of legionaries for stiffening: They had been drilled with great intensity in the arts of Roman close combat. Every man was armed with heavy and light javelins, a short, razor-edged gladius and a dagger. They wore iron helmets and shirts of Gallic mail. These last were shorter than the legionary type, extending only to the waist, and they lacked the distinctive shoulder doublings of legionary armor. Their shields, likewise, were somewhat smaller and far lighter than those used on land. These changes had been deemed expedient for warfare at sea. The shields were painted blue for sea service, and adorned with pictures of tritons, Nereids, hippokampi, the trident of Neptune and other nautical designs.
"Admiral!" called the sailing master, a Greek like most of them. "Around that point," he jabbed a finger at a cape of land that jutted into the sea to the southwest, "lies a cove near the mouth of the Iberis. If the Carthaginian army is anywhere nearby inland, it is a natural place for their fleet to put in."
"Then we will go around the cape in battle order. If there are no hostile forces in sight, resume cruising as usual." The requisite orders were passed by flag, and the fleet prepared for action, as it had numerous times before: Yards and sails were lowered and stored away, but the masts were left standing, for the corvi were slung from them. Arms were prepared; the sky was scanned for omens. The ships took up position abreast with the heavy triremes in the first line, the smaller, swifter biremes in the second and the smallest vessels and the transports well astern. In a slow and stately maneuver, like a legion changing front on the parade ground, the great line of ships swept around the cape. On the other side they found the Carthaginians.
Despite himself, Arrunteius gaped at the sight, his hands gripping the rail of the castle's waist-high bulwark. Drill and training was one thing. This was the first time Romans had beheld an enemy fleet since before the days of their grandfathers. "How many?" he demanded of the sailing master.
"Forty triremes at least. Not the main fleet by at least a hundred warships."
Arrunteius felt the sweat of relief spring from beneath his helmet. His greatest fear had been that his untested fleet would be thrown against the far larger combined battle fleet of Carthage. He needed a smaller fight to get his men blooded first, and it looked like that fight would be big enough. He had thirty-four triremes in his command, and twenty of the smaller biremes. He was outnumbered and the enemy was more experienced at this sort of fighting, but his ships were already arrayed for battle and had caught the other fleet by surprise. That advantage, plus the heaviness and power of his capital ships, should be enough.
"Advance and take them all," he called. "I want none to escape." His signals officer barked orders and the flagmen transferred the admiral's commands. The triremes swept forward in a broad crescent, pivoting on the right, landward ship, swinging around like a huge door to close off the little harbor. A large detachment of the biremes broke away from the main formation and rowed southwestward along the coast. They would take up a position in line abreast to trap any vessel that tried to escape and carry warning to Hamilcar's fleet.
All this was one of several prearranged battle plans. The Romans, consulting with their Greek sailing masters, had concocted a number of these, each with its own signals, each precise but allowing for flexibility for individual initiative and contingencies. History had taught them the folly of rigid adherence to a battle plan.