Civil Wars

When all things were in readiness he set sail for Sicily, going himself from Tarentum, while Calvisius, with Sabinus and Menodorus, sailed from Etruria. The infantry was sent on the march to Rhegium and great haste was displayed in all quarters. Pompeius had scarcely heard of the desertion of Menodorus when Octavius was already moving against him. While the hostile fleets were advancing from both sides, he awaited the attack of Octavius at Messana, and ordered his freedman Menecrates, who was the bitterest enemy of Menodorus, to advance against Calvisius and Menodorus with a large fleet. Menecrates was observed by his enemies near nightfall on the open sea. They retired into the bay near Cumæ, where they passed the night, Menecrates proceeding to Ænaria. At daybreak they drew up their fleet, in the form of a crescent, as close to the shore as possible, in order to prevent the enemy from breaking through it. Menecrates again showed himself, and immediately came on with a rush. As his enemies would not advance to the open sea, and he could do nothing of importance there, he made a charge in order to drive them upon the land. They beached their ships and fought back against the attacking prows. Menecrates had the opportunity to draw off and renew the attack as he pleased, and to bring up fresh ships by turns, while the enemy were distressed by the rocks, on which they had grounded, and by the inability to move. They were like infantry contending against sea forces, unable either to pursue or retreat.

In this situation Menodorus and Menecrates came in sight of each other; and, abandoning the rest of the fight, drove against each other with fury and shouting, as though they had staked the issue of the battle on this encounter, whichever should be the victor. Their ships came into violent collision and were badly damaged, Menodorus losing his prow and Menecrates his oar-blades. Grapplingirons were thrown by both, and the ships, being fastened together, could no longer manœuvre, but the men, as in a battle on land, failed not in deeds of valor. Showers of javelins, stones, and arrows were discharged, and bridges for boarding were thrown from one ship to the other. As the ship of Menodorus was higher than the other his bridges made a better passageway for his daring crew, and his missiles were more effective for the same reason. Many men were already slain, and the remainder wounded, when Menodorus was pierced in the arm with a dart, which was, however, drawn out. Menecrates was struck in the thigh with a Spanish javelin, made wholly of iron with numerous barbs, which could not be readily extracted. Although Menecrates could no longer take part in the fight, he remained there all the same, encouraging the others, until his ship was captured, when he plunged into the depths of the sea. Menodorus towed the captured ship to the land, but was able to do nothing more himself.

This took place on the left wing of the naval fight. Calvisius directed his course from the right to the left and cut off some of Menecrates' ships from the main body, and when they fled pursued them to the open sea. Demochares, who was a fellow-freedman of Menecrates and his lieutenant, fell upon the remainder of Calvisius' ships, put some of them to flight, broke others in pieces on the rocks, and set fire to them after the crews had abandoned them. Finally Calvisius, returning from the pursuit, led back his own fleeing ships and prevented the burning of any more. As night was approaching, all returned to their former station. Such was the end of this naval fight, in which the forces of Pompeius had much the best of it; but Demochares, grieving over the death of Menecrates as the greatest possible defeat (for those two, Menecrates and Menodorus, had been the foremost of Pompeius' sea captains), abandoned everything[*](a(/panta meqei\s e)k xeirw=n: abandoned everything. All the codices read e)k ke/rwn (from the wings), which, being nonsense, led to much conjecture in the learned world. Schweighäuser solved the difficulty by striking them out, and marking a lacuna at that place. Tyrwhitt furnishes a happy solution (see preface to the Didot edition) by substituting xeirw=n for ke/rwn,, so that the phrase is equivalent to "released his hold" in English.) and sailed for Sicily immediately, mediately, as though he had lost not merely the body of Menecrates and one ship, but his whole, fleet.

Calvisius, as long as he expected that Demochares would renew his attack, remained at his station, unable to fight in the open sea, for his best ships had been destroyed and the others were unfit for battle. When he learned that his antagonist had gone to Sicily, he repaired his ships and coasted along the shore exploring the bays. Octavius, in the meantime, proceeded from Tarentum to Rhegium, with a large fleet and army, and near Messana came up with Pompeius, who had forty ships only. Octavius' friends advised him to improve this most favorable opportunity and attack Pompeius with his great fleet, while the latter had so few ships and before the rest of his naval force should arrive. He did not follow this advice, but waited for Calvisius, saying that it was not good policy to run a risk when he was expecting reinforcements. When Demochares arrived at Messana, Pompeius appointed him and Apollophanes, another of his freedmen, admirals in place of Menodorus and Menecrates.

When Octavius heard of his disaster at Cumæ he sailed out of the straits to meet Calvisius. After accomplishing the greater part of the distance and while he was passing Stylis[*](Schweighäuser gives this place the Latin name of Columna Rhegina, which is referred to by Strabo (III. v. 5) as a small tower erected by the inhabitants of Rhegium at the strait of Sicily,) and turning into Scyllæum, Pompeius darted out of Messana and fell upon his rear, pushed on to his front, attacked him all along the line, and challenged him to fight. Although beset in this way, Octavius' fleet did not give battle, since Octavius did not permit it, either because he feared to fight in the straits or because he adhered to his first determination not to fight without Calvisius. He gave orders, however, that all should hug the shore, cast anchor, and defend themselves with their prows toward the enemy. Demochares,by setting two of his ships by turns against one of the enemy's, threw them into confusion. They dashed against the rocks and against each other, and began to fill with water. And so these ships were lost, like those at Cumæ, without striking a blow, being stuck fast and battered by the enemy, who had freedom of movement to advance and retreat.[*](One of the mishaps to which ancient manuscripts were exposed is found here. Several codices add to this sentence the words e)mell', e)pei\ ou)de/pw kako/n g' a)pw/leto, very likely, since nothing that is bad ever perishes. Musgrave stamped it as erroneous. Schweighäuser recognized it as an iambic verse from some poet whom he could not recall, and inferred that somebody had written it on the margin of his copy, and that the next copyist had embodied it in the text. So he rejected it. Nauck points out the original in the Philoctetes of Sophocles (446). It is found in the editio princeps of Appian and in the Latin versions of both Candidus and Geslen, whose attempts to reconcile it with the text are ingenious but futile.)

Octavius leaped from his ship upon the rocks and pulled out of the water those who swam ashore, and conducted them to the mountain above. However, Cornificius and the other generals who were there, encouraged each other, cut loose from their anchors without awaiting orders, and put to sea against the enemy, thinking that it was better to be conquered fighting than to fall unresisting before the blows of their assailants. First, with wonderful audacity, Cornificius rammed the flag-ship of Demochares and captured it. The latter leaped upon another vessel. Then, while the struggle and carnage were in progress, Calvisius and Menodorus hove in sight, advancing from the open sea, although they had not been observed by Octavius' men either from the land or the water. The Pompeians, being farther out at sea, beheld them first, and, when they saw them, retreated, for darkness was approaching, and, fatigued as they were, they dared not encounter fresh men. This conjuncture happened very opportunely for those who had just now been in difficulties.

At nightfall, those who had reached the shore from the ships took refuge on the mountains and lighted numerous fires as signals to those who were still on the sea, and there passed the night without food, uncared for, and in want of everything. Octavius fared like the rest, and moved around exhorting them to endure their privations till morning. While he was undergoing these hardships it was not known that Calvisius had arrived, nor could anything thing needful be obtained from the ships in their wrecked condition. But good luck came to them from another quarter. The thirteenth legion was approaching by way of the mountains, and, learning of the disaster and judging of the road by the fire, they made their way through the crags. They found their commander, and those who had taken refuge with him, suffering from fatigue and want of food, and ministered to them, dividing the work, some caring for some, others for others. The centurions brought their commander into an improvised tent, as none of his body-servants were present, these having been dispersed in the darkness and disorder. He sent messengers in all directions forthwith, to announce that he was safe, and he learned that Calvisius had arrived with the vanguard of his fleet; and, in view of these two helpful and unexpected events, he allowed himself some rest.

The next morning, when Octavius looked out upon the water, he beheld some of his ships burned, others partly burned, others still burning, and others broken in pieces; and the sea filled with sails, rudders, and furniture, while, of the ships that were saved, the greater part were damaged. Having ranged the fleet of Calvisius in front, he made repairs on those of his vessels that most needed them, turning them on their sides,[*](e)peskeu/aze ta\ e)pei/gonta tw=n skafw=n plagia/sas. Schweighäuser's Latin version renders this: "He repaired those which especially required attention, sailing in the meantime near the shore on an oblique course." Yet in a note on this passage he inclines to the opinion that plagia/sas means, not sailing obliquely, but turning the ships on their sides -- a more rational method of making repairs. The Didot edition adheres to the former rendering.) the enemy meantime remaining quiet, either because they feared Calvisius, or because they had decided to attack again in the open sea. Thus they remained on either side until midday, when a south wind burst upon them, raising violent billows in that surging and confined channel. Pompeius was then inside the harbor of Messana. The ships of Octavius were again shattered on the rough and inhospitable coast, dashing against the rocks and against each other, for, as they were not fully manned, they were not under good control.

Menodorus, apprehending that this rising storm would increase in violence, moved farther seaward and rode at anchor where, on account of the depth of water, the waves were less boisterous; and even here he had recourse to hard rowing to avoid being driven ashore. Some of the others followed his example, but most of them, thinking that the wind would soon subside, as it usually did in the springtime, moored themselves with anchors on either side, landward and seaward, and thrust out poles to prevent collisions with each other. As the wind grew more violent everything was thrown into confusion. The ships collided, broke their anchors, and were upset on the shore one after another. Cries of alarm and groans of pain were mingled together, and exhortations that fell upon deaf ears. Orders could not be heard. There was no distinction between pilot and common sailor. Knowledge and authority were alike unavailing. The same destruction awaited those in the ships and those who fell overboard, the latter being crushed by wind, waves, and floating timber. The sea was full of sails, spars, and men, living and dead. Those who sought to escape by swimming to land were dashed against the rocks by the surf. When the convulsion seized the water,[*]((*ws de\ kai\ to\ spa/sma th=n qa/lassan e)la/mbanen. This refers to the whirlpool at Charybdis.) as is usual in that strait, they were terrified, being unaccustomed to it, and then their vessels were whirled around and dashed against each other worse than ever. As night came on the wind increased in fury, so that they perished no longer in the light but in the darkness.

Groans were heard throughout the entire night, and the cries of men running along the shore and calling their friends and relatives upon the sea by name, and mourning for them as lost when they could hear no responses; and anon the cries of others lifting their heads above the waves and beseeching aid from those on shore. Nothing' could be done on either land or water. Not only was the sea inexorable to those engulfed in it, as well as to those still in the ships, but the danger from the storm was almost as great on land, lest the surf should dash them against the rocks. So distressed were they by this unexampled tempest that those who were nearest the land feared the land, yet could not get sufficient offing to avoid collision with each other, for the narrowness of the place and its naturally difficult outlet, together with the force of the waves, the rotary motion of the wind, caused by the surrounding mountains, and the whirlpool of the deep, holding everything in its grasp, allowed neither tarrying nor escape. The darkness of a very black night added to their distress. And so they perished, no longer even seeing each other, some uttering confused cries, others yielding in silence, accepting their doom, some even hastening it, believing that they were utterly lost. The disaster so far surpassed their experience that it bereft them of the hope of saving themselves even by chance. Finally, at the approach of daylight, the wind suddenly relaxed its force, and after sunrise wholly died away; yet even then, although the storm had ceased, the surges rolled a long time. The fury of the tempest surpassed the memory of the oldest inhabitants. It was altogether unexampled, and the greater part of Octavius' ships and men were destroyed by it.

Octavius, who had lost heavily in the battle the previous day and had sustained two severe calamities together, took the road in haste to Vibo that same night, by way of the mountains, being unable to repair this disaster, for which there was no help at hand. He wrote to all his friends and generals to be on the alert lest a plot should be formed against him here or there, as is liable to be the case when adversity comes. He despatched the infantry he had with him to all points on the Italian coast, lest Pompeius should be emboldened by his good luck even to invade the mainland. But the latter had no thought of an expedition by land. He did not even attack the ships that were left from the wreck, nor those that went away after the storm had subsided. On the contrary, he paid no attention to the enemy while they were tying their ships together with ropes as well as they could, and sailing with a favorable wind to Vibo. He neglected them either because he thought that the disaster was all-sufficient for him, or because he did not know how to follow up a victory, or, as I have said elsewhere, because he was altogether inefficient in attack and cared only to defend himself against assailants.

Less than half of Octavius' ships were saved, and these badly damaged. He left certain officers in charge of them and proceeded to Campania much cast down, for he had no other ships and he needed many; nor did he have time to build them, pressed as he was by the famine and by the people, who were again harassing him about a new treaty and mocking at the war as being in violation of the old one. He needed money, but had none. The Romans were not paying the taxes, nor would they allow the use of the revenues that he had devised. But he was always clever at discovering what was for his advantage. He sent [*](Y.R. 717) Mæcenas to Antony to change the mind of the latter respecting [*](B.C. 37) the things about which they had lately had some bickering, and to bring him to an alliance. If Mæcenas should not succeed, he intended to embark his infantry on merchant vesels, cross over to Sicily, abandon the sea, and wage war on land. While in this state of dejection the news reached him that Antony had agreed to the alliance, and he heard of a splendid victory over the Gauls of Aquitania, gained under the leadership of Agrippa. His friends and certain cities also promised him ships, and built them. Accordingly, Octavius cast off his despondency, and made more formidable preparations than his previous ones. [*](Y.R. 718)

At the beginning of spring, Antony set sail from Athens to Tarentum with 300 ships to assist Octavius as he had promised. But the latter had changed his mind and postponed his movement until his own ships should be finished. When called upon again and told that Antony's forces were ready and sufficient, he advanced other reasons for delay. It was evident that he was again offended with Antony about something, or that he disdained his assistance because his own resources were abundant. Antony was vexed, but he remained, nevertheless, and communicated [*](Y.R. 716) with Octavius again, because the expense of his fleet was [*](B.C. 36) burdensome. Moreover, he needed Italian soldiers for his war against the Parthians, and he contemplated exchanging his fleet for a part of Octavius' army; for, although it was provided in their treaty that each of them might recruit soldiers in Italy, it would be difficult for him to do so when Italy had fallen to the lot of Octavius. Accordingly, Octavia betook herself to her brother to act as mediator between them. Octavius complained that he had been abandoned by Antony when he was overtaken by danger in the straits. She replied that that had been explained through Mæcenas. Octavius said that Antony had sent his freedman Callias to Lepidus in Africa to induce the latter to make an alliance against him. She replied that she knew that Callias had been sent to make arrangements about a marriage, because Antony desired, before setting out on his Parthian expedition, to marry his daughter to the son of Lepidus, as had been agreed. After Octavia had made this statement Antony sent Callias to Octavius with permission to put him to torture [in order to learn the truth]. Octavius would not receive him, but said that he would go and have an interview with Antony between Metapontum and Tarentum, at a place where there is a river of the latter name between them.[*](The river Taras.)

They both chanced to reach the river at the same time. Antony sprang down from his chariot and leaped alone into one of the skiffs moored near by, and rowed toward Octavius, showing confidence in him as a friend. When Octavius saw this he followed the example. So they met in the stream and contended with each other which of them should disembark on the other's bank. Octavius prevailed because he was going to make a visit to Octavia at Tarentum. He took a seat with Antony in the latter's chariot, and proceeded to his lodgings at Tarentum unprotected, and passed the night there without guards. On the following day Antony made the same exhibition of trust. Thus they were continually changing from suspicion born of rivalry to confidence due to their mutual needs.