“That is far enough,” the pilot said presently; “the water shoals fast beyond.  We must anchor here.”

The sail was lowered, the oars got out on one side, and the head of the galley brought to the wind.  The anchor was then dropped.  As the storm beaten galley ran right up the lagoon she had been viewed with curiosity and interest by those who were on board the ships at anchor.  That she was an Italian galley was clear, and also that she was crowded with men, but no suspicion was entertained that these were Carthaginians.

The anchor once cast Malchus held a council with the other officers.  They were in the midst of foes, and escape seemed altogether impossible.  Long before the gale abated sufficiently to permit them to put to sea again, they would be visited by boats from the other vessels to ask who they were and whence they came.  As to fighting their way out it was out of the question, for there were a score of triremes in the bay, any one of which could crush the Capuan galley, and whose far greater speed rendered the idea of flight as hopeless as that of resistance.  The council therefore agreed unanimously that the only thing to be done was to surrender without resistance.

The storm continued for another twenty-four hours, then the wind died out almost as suddenly as it began.

As soon as the sea began to abate two galleys were seen putting out from the town, and these rowed directly towards the ship.  The fact that she had shown no flag had no doubt excited suspicion in the minds of the garrison.  Each galley contained fifty soldiers.  As they rowed alongside a Roman officer on the poop of one of the galleys hailed the ship, and demanded whence it came.

“We are from Capua,” the pilot answered.  “The gale has blown us across thence.  I have on board fifty Carthaginian officers and soldiers, who now surrender to you.”

As in those days, when vessels could with difficulty keep the sea in a storm, and in the event of a gale springing up were forced to run before it, it was by no means unusual for galleys to be blown into hostile ports, the announcement excited no great surprise.

“Who commands the party?” the Roman officer asked.

“I do,” Malchus replied.  “I am Malchus, the son of Hamilcar, who was killed at the Trebia, a cousin of Hannibal and captain of his guard.  I surrender with my followers, seeing that resistance is hopeless.”

“It is hopeless,” the Roman replied, “and you are right not to throw away the lives of your men when there is no possibility of resistance.”

As he spoke he stepped on board, ordered the anchor to be weighed, and the galley, accompanied by the two Roman boats, was rowed to the landing place.  A messenger was at once sent up to Mucius to tell him what had happened, and the praetor himself soon appeared upon the spot.  The officer acquainted him with the name and rank of the leader of the Carthaginian party, and said that there were with him two officers of noble families of the Carthaginians.