says that in going into action every vessel should make the greatest
possible display of colours; gonfalons and broad banners should float
from stem to stern, and gay pennons all along the bulwarks; whilst it
was impossible to have too much of noisy music, of pipes, trumpets,
kettle-drums, and what not, to put heart into the crew and strike fear
into the enemy.[24]
So Joinville, in a glorious passage, describes the galley of his
kinsman, the Count of Jaffa, at the landing of St. Lewis in Egypt:—
“That galley made the most gallant figure of them all, for it was
painted all over, above water and below, with scutcheons of the
count’s arms, the field of which was _or_ with a cross _patée
gules_.[25] He had a good 300 rowers in his galley, and every man
of them had a target blazoned with his arms in beaten gold. And,
as they came on, the galley looked to be some flying creature,
with such spirit did the rowers spin it along;—or rather, with
the rustle of its flags, and the roar of its nacaires and drums
and Saracen horns, you might have taken it for a rushing bolt of
heaven.”[26]
The galleys, which were very low in the water,[27] could not keep the
sea in rough weather, and in winter they never willingly kept the sea
at night, however fair the weather might be. Yet Sanudo mentions that
he had been with armed galleys to Sluys in Flanders.
I will mention two more particulars before concluding this digression.
When captured galleys were towed into port it was stern foremost, and
with their colours dragging on the surface of the sea.[28] And the
custom of saluting at sunset (probably by music) was in vogue on board
the galleys of the 13th century.[29]
We shall now sketch the circumstances that led to the appearance of our
Traveller in the command of a war-galley.
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[1] I regret not to have had access to Jal’s learned memoirs
(_Archéologie Navale_, Paris, 1839) whilst writing this section,
nor since, except for a hasty look at his Essay on the difficult
subject of the oar arrangements. I see that he rejects so great
a number of oars as I deduce from the statements of Sanudo and
others, and that he regards a large number of the rowers as
supplementary.
[2] It seems the more desirable to elucidate this, because writers on
mediæval subjects so accomplished as Buchon and Capmany have (it
would seem) entirely misconceived the matter, assuming that all the
men on one bench pulled at one oar.
[3] See _Coronelli, Atlante Veneto_, I. 139, 140. Marino Sanudo the
Elder, though not using the term _trireme_, says it was well
understood from ancient authors that the Romans employed their
rowers _three to a bench_ (p. 59).
[4] “_Ad terzarolos_” (_Secreta Fidelium Crucis_, p. 57). The Catalan
Worthy, Ramon de Muntaner, indeed constantly denounces the practice
of manning _all_ the galleys with _terzaruoli_, or _tersols_,
as his term is. But his reason is that these thirds-men were
taken from the oar when crossbowmen were wanted, to act in that
capacity, and as such they were good for nothing; the crossbowmen,
he insists, should be men specially enlisted for that service and
kept to that. He would have some 10 or 20 per cent. only of the
fleet built very light and manned in threes. He does not seem to
have contemplated oars three-banked, and crossbowmen _besides_, as
Sanudo does. (See below; and _Muntaner_, pp. 288, 323, 525, etc.)
In Sanudo we have a glimpse worth noting of the word _soldiers_
advancing towards the modern sense; he expresses a strong
preference for _soldati_ (viz. _paid_ soldiers) over _crusaders_
(viz. volunteers), p. 74.
[5] _L’Armata Navale_, Roma, 1616, pp. 150–151.
[6] See a work to which I am indebted for a good deal of light and
information, the Engineer Giovanni Casoni’s Essay: “_Dei Navigli
Poliremi usati nella Marina dagli Antichi Veneziani_,” in
“_Esercitazioni dell’Ateneo Veneto_,” vol. ii. p. 338. This great
_Quinquereme_, as it was styled, is stated to have been struck by a
fire-arrow, and blown up, in January 1570.
[7] _Pantera_, p. 22.
[8] _Lazarus Bayfius de Re Navali Veterum_, in _Gronovii Thesaurus_,
Ven. 1737, vol. xi. p. 581. This writer also speaks of the
Quinquereme mentioned above (p. 577).
[9] _Marinus Sanutius_, p. 65.
[10] See the woodcuts opposite and at p. 37; also _Pantera_, p. 46
(who is here, however, speaking of the great-oared galleys), and
_Coronelli_, i. 140.
[11] _Casoni_, p. 324. He obtains these particulars from a manuscript
work of the 16th century by Cristoforo Canale.
[12] Signor Casoni (p. 324) expresses his belief that no galley of
the 14th century had more than 100 oars. I differ from him with
hesitation, and still more as I find M. Jal agrees in this view. I
will state the grounds on which I came to a different conclusion.
(1) Marino Sanudo assigns 180 rowers for a galley equipped _ai
Terzaruoli_ (p. 75). This seemed to imply something near 180 oars,
for I do not find any allusion to reliefs being provided. In the
French galleys of the 18th century there were no reliefs except in
this way, that in long runs without urgency only half the oars were
pulled. (See _Mém. d’un Protestant condamné aux Galères_, etc.,
Réimprimés, Paris, 1865, p. 447.) If four men to a bench were to be
employed, then Sanudo seems to calculate for his smaller galleys
220 men actually rowing (see pp. 75–78). This seems to assume 55
benches, _i.e._, 28 on one side and 27 on the other, which with
3-banked oars would give 165 rowers. (2) Casoni himself refers to
Pietro Martire d’Anghieria’s account of a Great Galley of Venice
in which he was sent ambassador to Egypt from the Spanish Court in