The trierarch cleared his throat. ‘Do you think he’ll give the order to put in for supplies today, sir?’

‘Who knows?’ Macro shrugged. ‘After yesterday’s little incident, I’m not so sure.’

The trierarch nodded. The previous evening the two ships had made towards a small coastal village to anchor for the night. As they had approached the shore the inhabitants of the cluster of mud-brick buildings had fled inland, taking their valuables and as much food as they could carry. A party of legionaries had cautiously searched the village and had come back empty-handed. No one had remained behind and any food had been carefully concealed. The only sign of something out of the ordinary was a number of freshly dug graves and the burned-out remains of a handful of buildings. With no one to interrogate, the legionaries had returned to the ships and during the night they had been attacked with slingshot. Macro had only been able to see a handful of dark figures against the lighter loom of the beach. The rap of stones on the hulls and decks and the plop of the shot landing in the water had continued all night. Two of the marines had been injured before the rest of the men were ordered to keep down. The sporadic attack ended shortly before dawn and the two ships had set sail at first light to continue searching for Ajax.

‘Deck there!’ the lookout called from the top of the mast. ‘The Sobek is spilling her wind!’

The trierach and Macro stared forward. The sail of the other ship was billowing as the crew released the main sheets to slow the ship.

‘Looks like the prefect wants to confer,’ the trierarch suggested.

‘We’ll know soon enough. Bring us alongside,’ ordered Macro. Then he turned and made his way back to the cabin to retrieve his sword and vine cane and put on his boots so that he would be more presentable in front of his superior. By the time he had returned to the deck, his own ship, the Ibis, was closing up on the other vessel’s quarter. He could see Cato at the stern, cupping his hands together as he called across the swell.

‘Centurion Macro! Come aboard!’

‘Yes, sir!’ Macro shouted back and nodded to the trierarch. ‘Polemo, I’ll need the tender.’