The wind strengthened during the day and the ships ploughed through a choppy sea, sending clouds of spray exploding into the air as the bronze-capped rams punched through the swell. The rigging, taut under the strain, hummed as it vibrated and the yardarm stretching across the deck bowed under the pressure from the sail, all under the anxious eye of the trierarch. Then, in the middle of the afternoon, there was a faint crack and Cato turned to see that one of his ships, the Thoth, had slewed to one side. The yard had shattered and the sail collapsed beneath the splintered ends of the length of timber.

‘Heave to!’ the trierarch ordered. ‘Signal the order to all ships!’

Cato bit back on his frustration as the flotilla rolled gently on the waves. The trierarch hurriedly went below to consult his charts and then came back on deck to report to Cato.

‘There’s a small naval station only a short distance along the coast, sir, on the Tanitic mouth. The Thoth can put in there under oars to pick up a spare yard and then catch up with us tonight. She’s the fastest sailer in the flotilla, sir. It shouldn’t take her long.’

‘Very well, pass the word to the trierarch of the Thoth. As soon as it’s done, we continue on course.’

The trierarch nodded and hurried to the stern of the warship where he picked up a speaking trumpet and bellowed the instructions back to the Ibis, who passed them on to the Thoth. Shortly after, the oars emerged from the hull and began to drive the vessel through the waves towards the shore as the crew on deck cut away the shattered yardarm. The rest of the ships braced up their sails and continued to the west.

The flotilla was beached well before sunset in order to give the Thoth a chance to catch up before night set in. The crews set to work building their fires for the night and then cooking some of the fresh rations they had taken on at Casium. The sun crept down towards the horizon and as it touched the palms on the distant headland, Cato came across Hamedes staring out to sea.

‘I thought you’d be at prayer.’ Cato smiled, jabbing his thumb towards the setting sun.

The priest flashed a guilty smile. ‘I’m worried about the other ship. It hasn’t arrived yet. It hasn’t even been sighted.’

‘No. The repairs are probably taking longer than was thought. I don’t suppose a small naval station gets many visitors other than . . .’ Cato fell silent. A cold tide of dread seeped up through his guts. He turned and hurried down the beach towards his ship, seeking out the trierarch.

‘The supply station you sent the ship to. Tell me about it.’