In 500... (or less)

Amici Periculo

The trip seemed ill-advised. One does not sail toward the billowing cloud of smoke.

The old commander watched with awe and wonder from the deck of the ship.

"Any word on what has happened?" he asked one of the crew. "Perhaps this has something to do with the water supply being disrupted?"

The sailor shook his head, preoccupied with the seeming danger as they approached the shore.

They all had felt the earthquake that day. Then the water dried up. The old commander felt something terrible had happened.

"I should like to go and check after Pomponianus, my friend," he told his nephew that day as he readied a small fleet to investigate the seeming disaster.

"Be careful, uncle," the younger man said. "I fear for your safety."

As the ships approached the shore near the disaster, the old commander wondered if there was good reason for fear. From the billowing column of smoke, a fine layer of ash floated down like snow. In the midst of the falling ash, pebbles rained down.

"Truly this is an omen," one of the officers on the ship told the old commander. "Perhaps we ought to turn back."

The old commander would hear none of it. He had to check on the welfare of his friend.

"Fortune favours the brave," he said. "Steer to where Pomponianus is."

The commander's small vessel landed, and they quickly located Pomponianus. The senator was beside himself.

Seeing his friend in such a state, and in light of the fearful omens, the old commander threw his arms around the senator and gave him a hug.

"It warms my heart to see you safe, Pomponianus," he said.

"And you, my friend," the beleaguered senator replied. "We must find Rectina and leave."

"Load the ship to depart immediately," the old commander hollered. 

The group found the winds were not in their favor. The small boat was pushed back to the shore.

"What do we do now?" Pomponianus asked, clearly panicking as his attempt to flee the disaster had been thwarted.

"Come now, friend," the old commander said. "We should return to your villa. All of us could use a meal and some comfort. We shall return to the dock later, when the winds have shifted."

He dared not show his concern to his worried friend. The air was foul, like rotting eggs, and the ash continued to flutter down.

It became apparent that even the reassuring words of the commander were not enough to ward off the disaster. The roof of the villa creaked and groaned under the weight of the ash and stone on it.

"Send orders to the ship to meet us further down the shore," the commander told one of his men. "We might find suitable winds to launch from a different spot."

And so the group of friends departed. The old commander walked along the shore, but began to feel weary.

"I must sit for a moment," he said breathlessly. He plopped to the ground awkwardly, enough so that his friends were alarmed.

"Pliny!" Pomponianus yelled as he tugged the old man's arm. "We must keep moving!"

But the old man, Pliny the Elder, could not be roused. He died there, along with his friends, among the many victims of Mount Vesuvius in 79 A.D.