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STRATEGY AND TACTICS] fixed on the bulwarks, bows and arrows, weights dropped from a yard or pole rigged out, and the various means of setting an enemy alight; by shooting arrows with burning tow or by Greek fire or wild fire, blown through tubes (cannae, whence “cannon”). The nature of the “Greek fire” is still an unsettled question, and it is believed by some authorities that the Byzantines of the middle ages were acquainted with the use of gunpowder. However that may be, it is certain that even after the introduction of artillery in the 14th century, the

means of injuring an enemy at a distance were nil, or were very feeble. All actions, therefore, were fought at close quarters, where ramming and boarding were possible. But the use of the ram was only available for a vessel driven by oars. A sailing vessel could not ram unless she were running before a good breeze. In a light wind her charge would be ineffective, and it could not be made at all from leeward. Therefore, while fleets depended on the methods of battle at close quarters, two conditions were imposed on the warship. She must be small and light, so that her crew could row her with effect, and she must carry a numerous crew to work her oars and board or repel boarders. Sails were used by the triremes and other classes of warship, ancient and medieval, when going from point to point—to relieve the rowers from absolutely exhausting toil. They were lowered in action, and when the combatant had a secure port at hand, they were left ashore before battle. These conditions applied alike to Phormio, the Athenian admiral of the 5th century, to the Norse king Olaf Tryggveson of the 10th century, and to the chiefs of the Christian and Turkish fleets which fought the battle of Lepanto in 1571. There might be, and were, differences of degree in the use made of oar and sail respectively. Outside the Mediterranean, the sea was unfavourable to the long, narrow and light galley of 120 ft. long and 20 ft. of beam. But the Norse ship found at Gokstad, though her beam is a third of her length, and she is well adapted for rough seas, is also a light and shallow craft, to be easily rowed or hauled up on a beach. Some medieval vessels were of considerable size, but these were the exception; they were awkward, and were rather transports than warships.

Given a warship which is of moderate size and crowded with men, it follows that prolonged cruises, and blockade in the full sense of the word, were beyond the power of the sea commanders of antiquity and the middle ages. There were ships used for trade which with a favourable wind could rely on making six knots an hour—that is to say, twice the average speed attained by Captain Cook in his voyages of exploration. But a war fleet could not provide the cover, or carry the water and food, needed to keep the crews efficient during a long cruise. So long as galleys were used, that is to say, till the middle of the 18th century, they were kept in port as much as possible, and a tent was rigged over the deck to house the rowers. The fleet was compelled to hug the shore in order to find supplies. It always endeavoured to secure a basis on shore to store provisions and rest the crews. Therefore the wider operations were slowly made. Therefore too, when the enemy was to be waited for, or a port watched, some point on shore was secured and the ships were drawn up. It was by holding such a point that the Corinthian allies of the Syracusans were able to pin in the Athenians. The Romans watched Lilybeum in the same way, and Hannibal the Rhodian could run the blockade before they were launched and ready to stop him. The Norsemen hauled their ships on shore, stockaded them and marched inland. The Greeks of Homer had done the same and could do nothing else. Roger di Lauria, in 1285, waited at the Hormigas with his galleys on the beach till the French were seen to be coming past him. Edward III. in 1350, stayed at Winchelsea till the Spaniards were sighted. The allies at Lepanto remained at anchor near Dragonera till the last moment.

Given again that the fighting was at close quarters with ram, stroke of sword, crossbow bolt, arrow, pigs of iron or lead and wild fire blown through tubes, it follows that the formations and tactics were equally imposed on the combatants. The formation was inevitably the line abreast—the ships going side by side—for the object was to bring all the rams, or all the boarders into action at once. It was quite as necessary to strike with the prow when boarding as when ramming. If the vessels were laid side by side the oars would have prevented them from touching. It may be added that this rule prevailed equally with the sailing ship of later times, since they were built with what is technically called “a tumble home,” that is to say, their sides sloped inwards from the water line, and the space from the top of the bulwarks of one to the other was too great to be jumped. The extent to which ramming or boarding would be used respectively would depend on the skill of the rowers. The highly trained Athenian crews of the early Peloponnesian War relied mainly on the ram. They aimed at

dashing through an enemy’s line, and shaving off the oars from one side of an opponent. When successfully practised, this manoeuvre would be equivalent to the dismasting of a sailing line of battle ship. It was the , and it enabled the assailant to turn, and ram his crippled enemy in the stern ( ). But an attack with the ram might be exceedingly dangerous to the assailant, if he were not very solidly built. His ram might be broken off in the shock. The Athenians found this a very real peril, and were compelled to construct their triremes with stronger bows, to contend with the more heavily built Peloponnesian vessels—whereby they lost much of their mobility. In fact success in ramming depended so much on a combination of skill and good fortune that it played a somewhat subordinate part in most ancient sea fights. The Romans baffled the ramming tactics of the Carthaginians by the invention of the corva or crow, which grappled the prow of the rammer, and provided a gangway for boarders. After the introduction of artillery in the 14th century, when guns were carried in the bows of the galley, it was considered bad management to fire them until the prow was actually touching the enemy. If they were discharged before the shock there was always a risk that they would be fired too soon, and the guns of the time could not be rapidly reloaded. The officer-like course was to keep the fire for the last moment, and use it to clear the way for the boarders. As a defence against boarding, the ships of a weaker fleet were sometimes tied side to one another, in the middle ages, and a barrier made with oars and spars. But this defensive arrangement, which was adopted by Olaf Tryggveson of Norway at Swolder ( 1000), and by the French at Sluys ( 1340), could be turned by an enemy who attacked on the flank. To meet the shock of ramming and to ram, medieval ships were sometimes “bearded,” i.e. fortified with iron bands across the bows.

The principles of naval warfare known to the ancient world descended through Byzantium to the Italian Republics and from them to the West. With the growth of ships, the development of artillery, and the beginning of the great sailing fleets capable of keeping the sea for long periods together, came the need for a new adaptation of old

principles. A ship which depended on the wind for its motive power could not hope to ram. It could still board, and the Spaniards did for long make it their main object to run their bow over an enemy’s sides, and invade his deck. In order to carry out this kind of attack they would naturally try to get to windward and then bear down before the wind in line abreast ship upon ship. But an opponent to leeward could always baffle this attack by edging away, and in the meantime fire with his broadside to cripple his opponent’s spars. Experience soon showed the more intelligent sea officers of all nations, that a ship which relied on broadside fire, must present her broadside to the enemy; it was also soon seen that in order to give full play to the guns of the fleet, the ships must follow one another. Thus there arose the practice of arranging ships in the line ahead, one behind the other. For a time sea-officers were inclined to doubt whether order could be maintained among vessels subject to the forces of wind and tide. But in the very first years of the 16th century, a Spanish writer of the name of Alonso de Chaves argued with force that even an approach to order is superior to none—and that, given the accidents of