With the paddle biting in the opposite direction, the trireme swung in towards the shore. For the first time that night the captain allowed himself to believe they might yet emerge from this tempest alive. He even laughed with exultation at having defied the worst of the wrath that great Neptune could hurl at those who ventured into his domain. But with the safety of the shore almost within their reach, the sea finally had its way with them. A great swell rolled in from the dark depths of the ocean and lifted the trireme up and up, until the captain found that he was looking down on the shore. Then the crest passed beneath them and the ship dropped like a stone. With a jarring crash that knocked all the crew off their feet, the bows were impaled on a jagged sliver of rock some distance from the base of the headland. The captain quickly regained his footing, and the firm deck under his boots told him that the ship was no longer afloat. The next wave forced the trireme to pivot round, so that the stern was nearest the beach. A rending crash from forward told of the damage being wreaked. From below came the cries and screams of the slaves as the water cascaded down the length of the trireme. Within moments she would settle, and succeeding waves would dash her and all aboard onto the rocks.

‘What’s happened?’

The captain turned and saw Prefect Maxentius emerging from the hatch. The dark mass of land close by and the glistening black of spray-soaked rock were explanation enough. The prefect shouted down through the hatch for the passenger to bring her children up on deck. Then he turned back to the captain.

‘We must get them off! They must get to the shore!’

While the woman and her children huddled down by the stern rail, Valerius Maxentius and the captain struggled to lash several inflated wineskins together. About them the crew made ready with whatever they could find that might float. The screaming below deck intensified into spine-chilling shrieks of abject terror as the trireme settled further into the dark sea. Abruptly the screams were cut off. One of the crew on deck shouted and pointed to the maindeck hatchway. Not far beneath the grating, seawater glinted. The only thing preventing the ship from slipping beneath the water was the rock on which the bows were pinned. One large wave would finish them now.

‘Over here!’ Maxentius shouted to the woman and her children. ‘Quick!’

As the first waves began to break over the deck, the prefect and the captain lashed their passengers to the wineskins. At first the boy protested and wriggled in panic as Maxentius tried to pass the rope round his waist.

‘Stop it!’ His mother slapped him. ‘Be still.’

The prefect nodded his thanks, and finished tying the boy to the makeshift floats.

‘What now?’ she asked.