第六卷 双雄会 第一百三十三章 塔兰托大海战（五）

The lead rowers of the upper tier changed their stroke to match the flute's rhythm: arms pulled back, bodies leaning backward, legs extended, oars rising; arms pushed forward, bodies leaning forward, legs bent, oars slanting into the seawater, and with a low grunt naturally uttered by the rowers, the oars traced an arc backward through the sea...

Led by the upper tier, all rowers on the ship strained at their oars, their bodies constantly leaning forward and back. Even the leather cushions beneath them, due to the grease smeared underneath, slid slightly forward and back with the rowers' movements.

"Hu! Hu!..." The low chant soon merged into a single voice, echoing the rhythm of the flute.

Seven knots! Eight! Nine! Ten!... The warship's speed increased sharply.

Xanthiparis felt as if the whole ship were about to lift off. The waves crashing against the bow came faster and denser, shattering into sheets of spray that poured down on the deck with a continuous hiss...

"Brothers, hold on to the mast and the Corvus, and steady yourselves!" Captain Midorades shouted loudly to remind the ten deck sailors.

He had barely called out twice when seawater splashed over him, turning him into a drenched rat.

Now, no more bugle was needed. The lead ship's acceleration was a signal, and the other warships began to speed up in succession.

Rows of oars churned up angry foam; warship after warship split through the raging waves; the synchronized chant from every ship was a forceful condemnation of the invaders. Facing the fierce, charging Syracusan navy charging at them with ferocity, every man in the Daonian fleet stared wide-eyed, hearts filled with blazing anger, ready to fight to the death.

...

Though the Daonian civilians on the shore could not see the full battlefield, they were also tense, staring intently as both sides' warships rapidly closed in.

At that moment, whether they knew each other or not, they tightly clasped hands and shouted hoarsely, cheering on their loved ones...

As the Daonian warships drew closer, the "Corvus drawbridge" swinging above each ship's prow became clearly visible, causing great puzzlement among the sailors on the Syracusan ships. They had never seen such a strange device and were extremely curious.

Out of contempt for the Daonian "greenhorn navy," most believed it was a clumsy modification by people who didn't know shipbuilding. With that mindset, they charged even faster, barely maintaining formation—they didn't care, because they thought the Daonian warships were already theirs for the taking.

In Midorades's field of vision: a Syracusan trireme charged at him from an angle, its bronze ram aimed directly at the side of his ship.

He knew that making a wide evasive turn would be very dangerous. A few dozen meters behind that enemy ship, another warship followed closely, ready to ram his ship's fully exposed hull after such a dodge—this was the famous "double-column tactic" of the traditional Greek navy.

But Midorades showed a faint sneer. He needed no orders; the helm, trained over the past period, would make the right move.

Indeed, as they dashed forward, the ship turned slightly to the right and charged straight at the oncoming enemy.

Seeing the enemy ship rapidly grow larger, Midorades shouted down to the hold: "Oars in!"

"Oars in!" the boatswain echoed loudly.

The rowers immediately pulled their oars back in through the oar ports, a process that turned a bit frantic due to tension.

At the same time, the ten deck sailors had gathered by the foremast. Some had already untied the ropes securing the Corvus drawbridge to the foremast and were straining to haul it; others turned the pulley to rotate the bridge's base.

The Syracusan captain, seeing the Daonian warship charging at him from the prow, noticed that a few oars on its right side were still sticking out—he rejoiced: even if they didn't ram the hull, shearing off those oars would slow down the enemy ship's speed.

Just as the two warships were about to pass each other, he turned to duck into the cabin, for at such close range, the deck archers on both sides would unleash their arrows. At that moment, he heard a loud crash—the strange device on the Daonian ship's prow fell straight down, slamming heavily onto his own deck. The whole ship shuddered, and the immense force momentarily checked its forward momentum.

Then the captain heard shouts from the other side: "Brothers, it's our platoon's turn!"

Under the captain's stunned gaze, dozens of Daonian heavy infantry in black armor emerged from the enemy's hold and, using the device, quickly rushed onto the Syracusan ship.

So it was a small wooden bridge! The captain finally realized, but it was too late. The few Syracusan deck sailors who hastily advanced to meet them were no match for these wolf-like Daonian soldiers—some were felled by sharp short swords, others knocked into the sea by long shields...

The remaining sailors and lookouts, faced with the Daonian heavy infantry right before them, could only raise their hands in panic, but the Daonians clearly had no intention of taking prisoners—they stabbed them one by one.

The captain's legs turned to jelly, and he collapsed on the deck.

One of them said, "He's the captain; we need him to steer this ship."

"The helmsman is enough!" Another spoke, and a cold short sword slashed across his neck, blood gushing.

Two soldiers headed to the stern to capture the helmsman, while the others charged directly into the hold.

The rowers in the hold were already panicked, scrambling up from their leather seats, trying to escape.

Soldiers of the First Platoon, First Battalion, First Army Corps of Daonia shouted loudly, "Get back to your seats!" as they brandished long shields and short swords, beginning a slaughter.

Though there were over 170 strong men in the hold, they only thought of fleeing, scattered like grains of sand, and their naked bodies had no protection at all.

Soon, the hold was littered with corpses and groaning, writhing wounded. The entire space was stained red with blood.

The remaining rowers, terrified out of their wits, crouched in the cramped hold with their hands raised high.

"Get back to your seats, now!" The Daonian soldiers' harsh shouts did the trick.

The remaining rowers on this Syracusan trireme, trembling all over, sat back down on their leather cushions.

Xanthiparis and Platoon Leader Inias exchanged glances—their eyes held both joy and disbelief: this was the first time they had experienced such an easy fight, and they had captured a trireme so effortlessly!

Although Seclian had often claimed during training that "the Corvus drawbridge would change naval tactics and bring glorious victory to Daonia!"

It was only after personally experiencing this battle that Xanthiparis truly realized how effective that seemingly ugly "Corvus drawbridge" was!

All thanks to King Davos's brilliant idea! Xanthiparis sighed inwardly, but this was no time for praise. He collected himself and whispered to Inias, "Take thirty brothers back to our ship; I'll watch things here."

"Battalion commander, will twenty soldiers be enough?" Inias asked with slight concern.

Xanthiparis gave a contemptuous glance at the still-shivering Syracusan rowers: "Actually, ten would be enough."

Inias did not argue further, for they both knew the battle had only just begun.

Inias led thirty soldiers quickly onto the deck, crossed back via the Corvus drawbridge, and returned to their own ship. The remaining soldiers laboriously pulled out the spikes that had been driven into the enemy deck from the Corvus's head. Meanwhile, the deck sailors hauled on the ropes tied to the drawbridge, lifting this 1.2-meter-wide, 12-meter-long wooden bridge with low rails on both sides back up and lashed it to the foremast, freeing the Syracusan ship.

"Turn the helm toward the shore, or you die!" Under the threat of the Daonian soldiers' gleaming short swords, the Syracusan helmsman had no choice but to obey.

In the hold, Xanthiparis stood on the aisle littered with corpses and blood, surrounded by fifteen fierce soldiers, and barked, "Listen up! Take your oars and row obediently! Or else—" As he spoke, he thrust his short sword downward to the side, piercing the chest of a wounded rower lying there.

The rower's dying scream echoed through the hold. The already terrified rowers dared not disobey.

"Normal... normal speed..." the flute player stammered, his teeth chattering.

The warship veered erratically toward the coast, while a few soldiers stood on the deck at the bow, waist, and stern. Their conspicuous black armor signaled to other Daonian ships to avoid mistaking them for the enemy.

Just as Midorades's ship had used the Corvus to connect with the enemy, another Syracusan warship was rapidly closing in. The captain and sailors did not understand why the two ships had not separated after colliding and instead remained locked together. But rich combat experience and habitual "double-column" coordination made them hesitate—they made a slight turn, preparing to ram the vulnerable midsection of Midorades's ship.

Not far behind and to the left of Midorades's ship, a Daonian warship was also surging forward.

"Full speed!" the captain shouted.

"Didi-didi! Didi-didi!..." The flute player blew the double-reed pipe almost without pause.

At that moment, the rowers were highly excited and tense, constantly leaning forward and back, so that the spray from both sides had barely faded before another layer of foam arose, forming two parallel white lines...