Lord of the Silver Bow by David Gemmell Read Free Book Online Page B

could attract a full crew to the Death Ship. He had heard the Kypriot carpenters whispering as they shaped the hull timbers: “She’ll sink when Poseidon swims.”
    When Poseidon swims!
    Why did men always have to hang a god’s deeds on the simple forces of nature? Khalkeus knew why longer ships sank in storms, and it had nothing whatever to do with angry deities. The rise and fall of a ship in heavy water would cause extra—and uneven—pressure at the center of the keel. Khalkeus had demonstrated this to Helikaon a year earlier as the two men sat on a jetty in the sunshine, overlooking the small Kypriot shipyard. Khalkeus held a long stick with both hands, then slowly bent it up and down, then side to side. Eventually the stick snapped. The longer the stick, the sooner it broke. When this happened to the hull of a ship in angry seas, he explained, the results would be swift and terrifying. It would tear itself apart in a matter of moments.
    The problem was exacerbated, Khalkeus continued, by the manner of shipbuilding. Under normal circumstances the hull was pieced together first with planking and dowels. Only then would an inner frame be inserted to strengthen the structure. This was, in Khalkeus’ view, idiotic. Instead, the frame needed to be established at the outset, then the timbers fastened to it. This would give added strength amidships. There were other innovations Khalkeus spoke of on that first meeting: a separate deck on which the oarsmen could sit, leaving the top deck open for cargo or passengers; staggered oar stations, running in a zigzag pattern up and down along the hull; support fins bolted to the hull at the front and rear so that when the ship was drawn up on beaches at night, it would not tilt too violently. These and more Khalkeus had described.
    Helikaon had listened intently and then asked, “How big a ship could you build?”
    “Twice the length of any galley now sailing the Great Green.”
    “How many oars?”
    “Between eighty and a hundred.”
    After that the Golden One had sat silently, his blue eyes staring into the distance. Khalkeus had thought him bored and waited to be dismissed. Instead Helikaon had begun a series of more specific questions. What timber would be used? How tall and how thick would the mast need to be? How would Khalkeus ensure that such a large ship would sit well in the water and retain maneuverability and speed? Khalkeus had been surprised. The Golden One was young, in his early twenties, and the shipwright had not expected such a depth of knowledge. They had talked for several hours, then shared a meal together, and the conversation had continued long into the night. Khalkeus had etched diagrams into wet clay, rubbed them away, and refined them, showing panels and support frames.
    “How could such a huge ship be beached at night?” Helikaon asked finally. “And if beached, how could it be refloated again come daybreak?”
    “It could not easily be
fully
beached,” Khalkeus admitted. “But that would not be necessary. Under most conditions it would be adequate to merely ground the prow, or the stern, on the beach and then use stone anchors and lines to hold her in place for the night. That would allow the crew to land and prepare their cookfires.”
    “
Most
conditions?” Helikaon queried.
    Here was the crux of the problem. Sudden storms could arrive with great speed, and most ships would flee for the shore. Being small and light, galleys could be hauled up onto the safety of the sand. A ship the size and weight of that planned by Khalkeus could not be pulled completely from the water when loaded with cargo.
    Khalkeus explained the problem. “You would not want to half beach a ship of this size during a storm. The thrashing water at one end against the shingle or sand at the other would tear her apart.”
    “How, then, would you run from a storm, Khalkeus?”
    “You would not run, Helikaon. You would either ride the waves or seek shelter anchored in