Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 62, No. 386, December, 1847

Themistocles was the great founder of the Athenian navy. He first taught Athens to disregard the land, and to look on the sea as her national element of empire. His enemies said of him that he took the spear out of his countrymen's grasp, and replaced it with the oar.[13 - Plutarch in Vitâ.] But the contemporary historian explicitly attests[14 - Herodotus Polyhymnia, 144.] that the salvation of Greece from Persia arose from the Athenians having become a sea-faring people: and it was Themistocles who made them so.

He persuaded his fellow-countrymen to devote the produce of their silver mines to building a fleet, instead of dividing it among themselves. This fleet, well exercised in contests with Ãgina, was the nucleus of the navy of Athens, that taught the Greeks how to fight and conquer at Artemisium and Salamis. These victories, and the equally successful sea-fights in which Cimon afterwards led the Greeks against the remnants of the Persian navy on the Asiatic coasts, raised the zeal of the Athenians for their sea service to the highest pitch. And when they had acquired the supremacy over the Greek islanders and cities of the coasts of the Ãgean, they gained and sedulously employed fresh resources for augmenting the number of their galleys, and improving their own skill as mariners. For no nation was ever more thoroughly aware than the Athenians of the importance of assiduous training and perfect discipline in naval warfare. Their great orator, Pericles, mainly encouraged them to resist the combined powers of Lacedæmon and her allies, by reminding them of their long practice in seamanship compared with that of their enemies, who were more numerous, and might be equally brave, but never could equal their skill. He truly told them that seamanship is an art not to be acquired off-hand by landsmen, or to be picked up as a mere minor accomplishment, but that it requires long practice, uninterrupted by other occupations. "Athens had devoted herself to this since the invasion of the Medes; she had not, indeed, perfected herself; but the reward of her superior training was the rule of the sea – a mighty dominion, for it gave her the rule of much fair land beyond its waves, safe from the idle ravages with which the Lacedæmonians might harass Attica, but never could subdue Athens."[15 - See the speech of Pericles at the end of the first book of Thucydides, and also the great speech in the second book.]

An ancient Athenian trireme would make a poor figure beside a modern line-of-battle ship, the most majestic product of human skill and daring. Still, as we have seen, the number of men employed on board a naval armament in the old times far exceeded the united complements of a modern fleet. The slaughter in action was far greater, and, from the nature of the conflict, more depended upon discipline and seamanship, comparatively with mere animal courage, than is the case even in the sea-fights of the present time. The ancients contended in long light galleys, the prows of which were armed with sharp strong beaks, for the purpose of staying in an adversary's timbers, and more effectually running her down. Inexperienced crews sought only to grapple with an enemy, and to decide the affair by boarding. But the more highly-disciplined mariners avoided this unscientific mode of closing, in which numbers and brute force were sure to prevail, and sought by skill and speed, by manœuvring round their antagonists, by wheeling, halting, backing, and charging exactly at the right moment, to avoid the shocks intended for themselves, and to run an opponent down by taking her amidships or on the quarter, or to dash away and shatter part of her oars.

If we can picture to ourselves two hostile squadrons of modern steam-boats, without artillery, seeking to destroy each other principally by running down, we shall gain an idea in many respects analogous to the idea of a sea-fight of antiquity. But we must remember that the motive power of the old war-galleys, when contending, came entirely from oars, sails not being used in action: so that the efficiency of the manœuvres depended on the skill and nerve of the whole crew, and not merely on the excellence of machinery and the dexterity of one or two officers. Of the two hundred men who made the usual complement of a Greek trireme, at least four-fifths pulled at the oar; the proportion of mariners being continually diminished in the best navies, as they trusted more and more to swiftness and tactics, and less to hand-to-hand fighting. They pulled in three tiers, ranged one above another, the lowest having, of course, the shortest oars and lightest work; better men being required for the middle tier, and the most powerful and skilled rowers being alone fit to work the long oars of the upper rank.

The probable mode of arranging the tiers of oars, so that the higher should sufficiently overstretch the lower, so as not to interfere in stroke with them, is excellently explained by Mitford in an appendix to the eighth chapter of his second volume. Adopting the views of General Melville, and illustrating them by a description of war-galleys actually in use among the islanders of the Pacific, Mitford says: – "Along the waist of the galley, from a little above the water's edge, a gallery projected at an angle of about forty-five degrees. In this the upper rowers were disposed, checkered with the lower. Space for them being thus gained, partly by elevation, partly by lateral projection, those of the highest tier were not too much above the water to work their oars with effect."

The system, too, of rowing with outriggers, which has lately been adopted in the boat-races on the Tyne, and thence in those of the Thames and Cam, suggests another mode by which sufficient sweep and space might have been gained for the oars of the upper tier, to keep them from clashing with those below them.

A galley thus manned, and built exclusively for speed, (for the war-ships seldom or never pushed across the open sea, but coasted along from point to point, landing their crews for meals and sleep,) must have moved with immense velocity and power. The boat-races at Cambridge, in which six or seven-and-twenty eight-oared boats may be seen contending close together, can give some faint idea of the speed with which a squadron of the old triremes must have rushed through the sea, and of the noise and wave which must have been raised in the water, by the displacing transit of such large and rapid bodies, and by the simultaneous lashing of so many thousand oars. One can understand the alarm with which their charge must have been watched by unpractised antagonists, and the shrinking back frequently caused, φοβω ῥοθιου και νεων δεινοτητος .[16 - Thucyd., iv. 10.] Steady bravery and alertness were therefore, essential qualities in the whole crew. For, if but a few of the oarsmen got frightened, and consequently pulled out of time, or if they failed to back water, to ease off, or to give all the way they could, exactly at the word of command, the calculated speed, or curve, or check, on the faith of which a manœuvre was attempted by the captain and steerer, would not be supplied; the manœuvre would fail; and the galley, instead of taking an antagonist at advantage, would herself lie at the mercy of some other of the enemy's ships that might be near enough to seize the moment of her confusion. Accordingly, besides assiduouslyο training their men to the use of the oar in rough as well as smooth water, the Athenian admirals inculcated as a seaman's prime duties order and silence in action, (Εν τω εργω κοσμον και σιγην περι πλειστου ἡγεισθε.)[17 - Speech of Phormio to his crews before the second battle in the Gulf. – Thucyd. ii. 89.] To be steady and patient in the presence of the enemy until the signal for engaging was given; to listen attentively for the word of command as passed on by the boatswains (κελευϛαι) to the various banks of oars; to, obey each command instantly, unhesitatingly, and quietly; to keep time, to back promptly, and, in charging, to throw the utmost amount of physical power into each stroke of the oar, were the qualities that distinguished the able Athenian seaman. Impatience, clamour, clumsy and uneven rowing, slowness and confusion in catching and obeying signals, and flurried unsteadiness in the heat of battle, betrayed the inexperience of the crews with which the Peloponnesians manned their fleets in the early years of their great war with Athens; though probably each Dorian among them was constitutionally as brave as any Athenian, and might have excelled him in an encounter with spear and shield on land.

However skilfully the triremes might be manœuvred, it was impossible to prevent their sometimes getting foul of their adversaries. And, for the hand-to-hand fighting which this involved, a small body of fully armed soldiers (Επιβαται), or Marines, according to our modern term) served on board each galley. There were also a few bowmen or slingers for galling the enemy as opportunity offered. And although the oarsmen must, of course, have been unencumbered with armour, each seems to have been furnished with some light weapons, a cutlass probably and javelin, to play his part with in the exigencies which continually occurred during an action at sea. For we must bear in mind that, when we read of the ancient galleys running each other down in action, we are not to suppose that the struck galley was instantly sunk by the shock. On the contrary, almost every account in the classics of a sea-fight proves that this was seldom or never the case. From the peculiarly light build of the triremes, and probably also from the effect of the lateral galleries in which the upper rowers were disposed, one of these vessels would be a long time before it foundered, even after receiving such a shock as to water-log it, and to leave it shattered and perfectly unmanageable. While the wreck thus kept above water, the crew clung to it in the hope of being rescued by successful friends. Sometimes, even after thus being run down, the crew would make a desperate effort, and carry their apparently triumphant opponent by boarding. A memorable instance of this is recorded by Herodotus as having occurred at the battle of Salamis, where a Samothracian galley in the Persian service was charged and run down by an Ãginetan; "but the Samothracians, being javelin-men, sent a shower of darts at the marines who assailed them from the ship which had run them down, cleared her deck, and boarded and took possession of her."[18 - Herod., Urania, 90.]

A mere successful charge, therefore, against an enemy's galley did not necessarily determine the fate of her crew; a flight or two of javelins and arrows were probably thrown in, especially if any resistance was shown, and then the victorious vessel generally moved of in search of fresh opponents until the event of the day was finally decided. The conquerors then had the easy task of rowing up and down among the half-swamped prizes, killing or taking off the men as prisoners, and towing the wrecks away in triumph, to be patched up or not for service, according to the extent of their respective damages.

The ascendancy is obvious, which skill and discipline must have exercised in such contests over equal courage and superior numbers. Often as this was displayed, the first victory of Phormio in the Corinthian gulf in the third year of the Peloponnesian war, as narrated by Thucydides, is one of the most splendid instances of it that history supplies. The Corinthians and other confederates of Sparta had prepared an armament of forty-seven galleys and a large number of transports on the Achaian side of the gulf, for the purpose of effecting a descent on the opposite coast of Acarnania, a country then in alliance with Athens. Phormio, the Athenian admiral who commanded in those seas, had only twenty galleys, with which he watched their movements from Chalcis and the river Evenus on the Ãtolian coast. The Peloponnesians, notwithstanding their superiority in numbers, sought to avoid an action, and endeavoured to push across the gulf in the night. But the Athenians were too vigilant, and came up with them in the middle of the passage just about day-break. The gulf is of considerable width in the part where the rival fleets encountered, though immediately to the eastward it narrows into a mere strait between the two opposite capes, each of which the Greeks called the Promontory of Rhion. Thus intercepted, and forced to fight, the Peloponnesian commanders drew up their fleet in a way which they hoped would neutralise the superior skill and swiftness of the Athenian galleys. The great object in a sea-fight was to charge an opponent amidships, or on the stern, or on some defenceless part. Of course, as long as the enemy kept their line with the bows opposed to all their assailants, this was impossible. The favourite manœuvre then was cutting the line, (Διεκπλους.) The assailing galley dashed rapidly between two of her adversaries; and then, smartly wheeling round, sought to charge one of them in rear, or on the quarter while turning. To prevent this, various tactics were adopted. Sometimes, for instance, the assailed fleet was drawn up in two or more lines of squadrons placed checker-wise behind each other. On the present occasion, the Peloponnesians formed in a circle, placing the transports and a picked squadron of five of their best war-ships in the middle, and with the rest of their galleys ranged outside, with their sterns toward the centre, so as to present all round a front of armed beaks to the enemy, and make a flank or rear attack impossible. But as our Nelson dealt with Villeneuve, so Phormio dealt with them. A novel mode of defence was overpowered by a novel mode of attack. The Athenian admiral formed his line-of-battle ahead, and rowed round them, continually threatening to charge, and cooping them into a narrower and narrower space, but having strictly enjoined his captains not to begin the engagement till he gave the signal. For he reckoned on the Peloponnesian galleys soon getting unsteady in their stations, and running foul of each other, so as to give, a favourable opportunity for charging them. And he also waited for the springing up of the east wind, which commonly blew out of the straits about sunrise; feeling sure that the enemy would never keep their array perfect in rough water. Even as he had anticipated, so fared it with the Peloponnesians. The wind came down upon them, and caught them (το πνευμα κατηει.) Their ships, already closely packed, fell foul of each other. The crews had to fend off, and mutual abuse and shouting confused the fleet, and drowned the officers' commands. The unpractised rowers also, as the water grew rougher, when they gave a stroke, could not clear their oars from the waves; (τας κωπας αδυνατοι οντες εν κλυδωνιω αναφερειν,) a difficulty which any one will appreciate, who learned to row on a river, and who remembers how many crabs he caught, when he afterwards first tried to pull a sea-oar in a fresh breeze. The helmsmen thus had no sufficient steerage-way on their ships; and any attempt at manœuvring became hopeless. When they were completely disordered, Phormio gave the signal to his captains, and the Athenian galleys, dashing forward, gained an easy victory, capturing twelve ships, one of which they dedicated to Poseidon.

This battle is the subject of the following lines, which are intended to be taken as composed by one of the Athenians who served on board Phormio's galley. The metre is the splendid measure invented by Mr Mitchell for the rendering of the Aristophanic Tetrameter Anapest.

PHORMIO'S VICTORY IN THE CORINTHIAN GULF

Twas when our galleys lay along the winding bay,
Where Evenus with ocean is blended,
To watch the Dorian host, that 'gainst Acarnania's coast
At the mandate of Sparta descended.

In long and threatening line, at the margin of the brine,
Stretched the squadrons of proud Lacedæmon;
Our prows were but a score, yet we cooped them to the shore,
Oh they shrank from the clash with our seamen!

Not in the good daylight, not in fair and open fight,
Came over the boasting invaders;
But like thieves they sought to glide, to their booty o'er the tide,
With darkness and silence for aiders.

All voiceless was the deep; the winds had sunk to sleep;
The veil of the night earth was wearing;
But the stars had pined away; and the streaks of eastern gray
Told the morn was her chariot preparing.

A plash of distant oars as from th' Achaian shores
On our sentinel's ear faintly sounded;
Our watch was keen, and true, we were Phormio's chosen crew;
To his oar at the signal each bounded.

The warning cry speeds fast, "the foe, they come at last;"
Oh little they deem what will meet them;
Right soon equipped are we, and we push at once to sea,
On the mid-wave to baffle and beat them.

Now through the glimmering haze we strain our eager gaze; —
A dark mass on the dark water rises; —
'Tis a galley; – 'tis their fleet – how our joyous bosoms beat,
As the dawning revealed us our prizes!

Two score and seven prows were the squadrons of our foes,
There was sea-room and space for the meeting;
Yet they moved not to attack, but in troubled ring hung back
From the strife, whence was now no retreating.

Swift, swift, we glanced around them, and in closer circle bound them:
Still threat'ning the charge, still delaying:
For Phormio curbed our zeal, till the roughened main should feel
The breath of the east o'er it playing.

Blow, blow, thou Morning wind – why lingerest thou behind?
On high while the Day-god is soaring?
Come forth, and bid the Deep from the level slumber leap,
Its billows in majesty pouring.

Let the landsmen dread their swell – the mariner loves well
The laugh and the toss of the ocean;
Long time the gale and we have been comrades o'er the sea;
'Tis our helpmate in battle's commotion.

The shudder of the seas tells the coming of the breeze;
The ripples are glittering brightly;
Soon the purple billows grow, and their crests of foam they show,
As the freshening blast curls them lightly.

Swell higher, lusty gale – the Dorian crews are pale,
Their oars in the vexed surges drooping;
While our circling galleys halt, and veer round for the assault,
For the death-stroke each mariner stooping.

With heads bent forward low, with oars thrown back in row,
Trembling over the edge of the water,
With breathless gaze we watch from our captain's lip to catch
The word for the charge and the slaughter.

'Tis given – the oars dip – with a light half-stroke the ship
Glides off – the waves hiss in twain riven —
The trumpet clamours high; and our short sharp battle-cry,
As we strain every nerve, rings to heaven.