Occasionally there was a crash, followed by sudden peals of fright, telling of other ships ridden down, and their crews drowned in the vortexes.
Nor was the fight all on one side.

Now and then a Roman in armor was borne down the hatchway, and laid bleeding, sometimes dying, on the floor.
Sometimes, also, puffs of smoke, blended with steam, and foul with the scent of roasting human flesh, poured into the cabin, turning the dimming light into yellow murk.

Gasping for breath the while, Ben-Hur knew they were passing through the cloud of a ship on fire, and burning up with the rowers chained to the benches.
The Astroea all this time was in motion.

Suddenly she stopped.
The oars forward were dashed from the hands of the rowers, and the rowers from their benches.

On deck, then, a furious trampling, and on the sides a grinding of ships afoul of each other.