The journey from
Millawanda to the column wreck takes about two minutes. We glide over a
mountainous landscape of black peaks and green valleys, descending at last to a sandy desert
that disappears into the distance. The same scene is repeated over hundreds of kilometers of
the Anatolian coastline. A ship colliding with this shore would have sunk and slid down the
rocky cliffs, coming to rest (perhaps after spilling most of her cargo) where the rock meets
the more gentle sandy slopes, the upper limits of which were probably formed during the
Pleistocene Epoch. The fact that most Anatolian shipwrecks we know of lie at the rock-sand
interface at a depth of 30-40m is not a statistical accident but due rather to the geology of
the coastline. When a ship sinks onto the rock, its hull is quickly destroyed by the action of marine borers. But when a ship comes to rest on the sand, with a heavy non-perishable cargo on top, there is a good chance that the ancient hull will survive for thousands of years. Today we discovered that our column drums rest on a deeper stacked layer of building stones extending far beyond the main cargo mound. In the sand beneath, there can be little doubt, lies the hull of an ancient ship from the last tumultuous century of the Roman Republic.
What would such a ship have looked like? Most merchantmen of this period were fat and round,
with a square mainsail and perhaps an artemon (forward sail); other types of rigging were also
known. One or two large steering oars would have served her as well as any rudder, and she may
have carried a few oars for maneuvering in harbors or against the wind. All this we know from
ancient depictions of ships. The method of their construction, however, was virtually unknown
until the advent of underwater archaeology.Throughout the Greco-Roman period, mortise-and-tenon joinery (reinforced with treenails, or nails of iron or copper) was the most common method used to join together the planks on sea-going merchant ships. Caulking (with pitch, resin, or wax) and sometimes lead sheathing provided additional protection for the hull, and lead sheets 1-2mm thick were used for repairs. The level of craftsmanship on Classical ships has sometimes been compared to fine
cabinetmaking, but the art apparently declined as shipbuilders moved from shell-first to frame-first methods of construction in the Late Antique period. A comparison of the hulls of two ships that we have previously discussed - the 4th BC century Kyrenia ship and the 7th century AD Yassi Ada ship - reveals a huge difference in the amount of care and labor expended on their construction. Compared to Kyrenia’s Ferrari, Yassi Ada is an economy minivan: simple, cheaply built, and perfect for the increased regular trade in bulk commodities that reached its zenith under the Roman Empire.
The first centuries BC and AD are generally considered the period in which ancient Mediterranean shipbuilding reached its greatest sophistication. The scarcity of slave labor was probably a major cause of decline in later centuries, but it is possible that the move towards cheaper, less labor-intensive construction was already underway at the time of our
column wreck. In 25 BC, the Roman general Aelius Gallus built 130 new cargo ships to support his fleet for an expedition to Arabia Felix (Strabo 16.780). Were these ships built to last, or mass-produced for the task at hand? What sort of merchant ship carried a cargo of colossal column drums? And how should we interpret the presence of Lamboglia 2 amphoras, a type that has been found on over 60 shipwrecks and indeed all over the Mediterranean?
Somewhere under that mountain of marble, we have the nautical equivalent of a Ferrari, an economy minivan, or something in between. We leave it to your imagination.