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2005 Spatial and Temporal Analyses of the Harbor at Antiochia ad Cragum Meredith Gretz Marten

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THE FLORIDA STATE UNIVERSITY

COLLEGE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES

SPATIAL AND TEMPORAL ANALYSES OF THE HARBOR AT ANTIOCHIA AD CRAGUM

By

MEREDITH GRETZ MARTEN

A Thesis submitted to the Department of Anthropology in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts

Degree Awarded: Fall Semester, 2005

The members of the Committee approve the Thesis of Meredith Gretz Marten defended on 27 October 2005.

Cheryl Ward Professor Directing Thesis

William Parkinson Committee Member

David Stone Committee Member

Approved:

Dean Falk, Chair, Department of Anthropology

Joseph Travis, Dean, College of Arts and Sciences

The Office of Graduate Studies has verified and approved the above named committee members.

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To Dad, Sharon and Mike, for your love, support and understanding.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I am very thankful for the many people who contributed their time, energy and support in the completion of this thesis. First of all, I would like to thank Dr. Cheryl Ward for the opportunity to work with the Rough Cilicia Maritime Archaeological Project at Antioch in 2004. It was an amazing adventure and a beautiful place, and allowed me to share in her passion for anthropology. More importantly, however, Cheryl has been a wonderful advisor and friend these past few years, and I am grateful for the opportunity to have studied with her at Florida State. I would also like to thank committee members Drs. William Parkinson and David Stone for their knowledge, guidance and patience with this thesis.

Thank you Dr. Nicholas Rauh of the Rough Cilicia Archaeological Survey Project for coordinating the summer 2004 season and for working toward the important goal of understanding a historically misunderstood cultural minority. Thanks for a wonderful field season. The project would not have been possible without the support of the National Science Foundation (Grant BCS-0240211), Florida State University and the Nautical Archaeology Research Fund at FSU, as well as the Academic Diving Program for equipment and training. The Turkish Ministry of Culture was instrumental in the success of our field season, thanks especially to G. Savran.

Graduate school may have given me a heart attack were it not for the funniest and most caring person alive residing in the next room, Beth Chambless. Thank you for holding my hand throughout comps, Parkinson’s final, Wilson Phillips and the occasional meltdown.

I am indebted to Rachel Horlings for her friendship throughout our adventures in Turkey, underwater and at 1820 Medart, and for her help and advice during the thesis process. To Erik, thank you for your friendship, companionship, and for reading endlessly about the “steep rocky bluffs.” And to Jim, thanks for the edits and the 2 am phone calls, but especially for keeping me sane.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Tables ...... Page vii List of Figures ...... Page viii Abstract ...... Page xi

1. Rough Cilician Piracy and Trade...... Page 1

Introduction...... Page 1 Piracy in Rough Cilicia...... Page 2 Historical Background of Roman Imperial Expansion and Rough Cilician Piracy...... Page 3 Geography of Rough Cilicia ...... Page 4 History of Early Occupation...... Page 6 Summary...... Page 14

2. Theoretical Overview ...... Page 15

Introduction...... Page 15 Capitalism as a Cultural System in Contemporary Theory ...... Page 16 A Theoretical Analysis of Piracy in Rough Cilicia ...... Page 25 Summary...... Page 32

3. Rough Cilicia Archaeological Survey Project and Maritime Survey...... Page 34

Introduction...... Page 34 Terrestrial Survey ...... Page 34 Maritime Survey ...... Page 38 Maritime Survey Methods ...... Page 40 Summary...... Page 52

4. Project Data, Artifact Identification and Analysis...... Page 54

Introduction...... Page 54 Artifacts Used in Analysis ...... Page 54 Ceramic Assemblage ...... Page 57 Anchor Assemblage...... Page 59 Identification and Analysis of Ceramic and Anchor Assemblages ...... Page 63 Miscellaneous Artifacts ...... Page 73

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Summary...... Page 75

5. Macroecology and Rough Cilicia ...... Page 77

Introduction...... Page 77 Artifact Distribution...... Page 77 Preliminary Conclusions...... Page 81 Harbor Archaeology ...... Page 87 Historical and Cultural Anthropological Applications ...... Page 96 Summary ...... Page 99

6. Conclusions...... Page 101

APPENDICES ...... Page 105

A Catalog of Ceramic Assemblage...... Page 105 B Catalog of Iron and Wooden Anchor Assemblage ...... Page 114 C Catalog of Stone Anchors ...... Page 122

REFERENCES ...... Page 130

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ...... Page 141

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LIST OF TABLES

Table 1: Stone anchor types and descriptions...... Page 60

Table 2: Stone anchor types, descriptions and locations within the harbor...... Page 61

Table 3: Iron anchor types, locations and measurements found in the harbor at Antioch...... Page 62

Table 4: Tentative identification of diagnostic shipping jar remains ...... Page 65

Table 5: Iron anchors found in the harbor at Antioch and associated date ranges ...... Page 72

Table 6: Comparative ship and anchor measurements ...... Page 72

Table 7: Harbor site comparisons ...... Page 90

Table 8: Catalog of Ceramic Assemblage ...... Page 111

Table 9: Catalog of Ceramic Assemblage, continued...... Page 112

Table 10: Catalog of Ceramic Assemblage, continued...... Page 113

Table 11: Catalog of Iron and Wooden Anchors...... Page 120

Table 12: Catalog of Iron and Wooden Anchors, continued ...... Page 121

Table 13: Catalog of Stone Anchors...... Page 127

Table 14: Catalog of Stone Anchors, continued...... Page 128

Table 15: Catalog of Miscellaneous Finds ...... Page 129

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LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1.1: Map of Southern Anatolia (after de Souza 1999:xiii) ...... Page 4

Figure 1.2: Bay of Pamphylia, Rough Cilicia (Cilicia Tracheia) and Flat Cilicia (Cilicia Pedias) (after Mitchell 1993: Map I) ...... Page 5

Figure 1.3: Coin minted by Sulla in 56 BCE in praise of Pompey the Great. The obverse is a portrait of Hercules, and the reverse symbolizes Pompey’s naval achievements, as it includes a stern ornament (de Souza 1999:174) ...... Page 12

Figure 2.1: Map of Southern Anatolia (Isauria-Cilicia), the Taurus and Anti-Taurus Mountains and the Adana Plain, or Flat Cilicia. Rough Cilicia is to the west ...... Page 30

Figure 3.1: Rough Cilicia Archaeological Survey Project area, 1996-1999 (RCASP) ...... Page 35

Figure 3.2: Satellite map of 2004 surveyed areas (RCASP) ...... Page 35

Figure 3.3: The fortified headland associated with Appian’s Kragos Mountain (RCMAP)...... Page 37

Figure 3.4: West harbor at Antioch, the primary summer 2004 survey area ...... Page 38

Figure 3.5: The harbor at Antioch (RCMAP) ...... Page 39

Figure 3.6: Side-scan image from Antioch harbor, typical of the eastern region with sand, poseidon grass and small rocks (RCMAP) ...... Page 40

Figure 3.7: Side-scan image showing areas typical of the central and western regions of Antioch harbor - very rocky with some large boulders and grassy patches (RCMAP) ...... Page 40

Figure 3.8: Stone net weight from Dor, Israel (Kingsley and Raveh 1996: Plate 38) ...... Page 43

Figure 3.9: Stone net weight from Dor, Israel (Kingsley and Raveh 1996: Plate 38) ...... Page 43

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Figure 3.10: Kapitän’s proposed evolution of ancient stone or stone and wood anchors. Numbers 1-7, 10 and 11 are sketches of reconstructed anchors or those found in archaeological and ethnographical contexts, while number 8 is hypothetical (Kapitän 1984:34) ...... Page 44

Figure 3.11: a) Stone weights used in an olive press, similarly constructed to stone anchors found in the harbor at Antioch (Frankel 1997:74-77). 3.11b). Stone weights used in an olive press, from the Alanya Museum (RCMAP) ...... Page 45

Figure 3.12: Wooden anchor types from Haldane’s typology: the Type I anchor stock made of stone, Type II with lead cores, Type III made of lead and Type IV with removable lead stocks (Haldane 1984:4) ...... Page 48

Figure 3.13: Model of a Type III wooden anchor with a) lead stock and b) lead collar (RCMAP) ...... Page 48

Figure 3.14: Archaeologists recovering lead artifacts with a lifting bag (RCMAP)...... Page 49

Figure 3.15: Evolution of iron anchor types (after Kapitän 1984:43) ...... Page 49

Figure 3.16: Iron anchors in different contexts: encased in wood, as typically used; drawing of a T-shaped iron anchor from the seventh-century shipwreck at Yassıada (van Doorninck 1982a:129); and a concreted T-shaped anchor found in the harbor at Antioch (RCMAP) ...... Page 50

Figure 3.17: Location and arrangement of Y-shaped iron anchors aboard the eleventh-century shipwreck at Serçe Limanı (van Doorninck 2004a:228) ...... Page 51

Figure 3.18: Y-shaped iron anchor from the harbor at Antioch (RCMAP) ...... Page 51

Figure 3.19: Iron grapnel anchor from the harbor at Antioch (RCMAP) ...... Page 51

Figure 4.1: GIS map of the harbor at Antioch, including artifact locations and associated marker buoys (RCMAP) ...... Page 55

Figure 4.2. Map of artifact distributions and associated dates...... Page 56

Figure 4.3. Enclosed areas in the artifact distribution map correspond to west, central, and east bays ...... Page 57

Figure 4.4. Artifact and lot numbers in the eastern bay...... Page 57

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Figure 4.5. Artifact and lot numbers in the western bay...... Page 57

Figure 4.6. Artifact and lot numbers in the central bay ...... Page 57

Figure 4.7. WA1, Type IV lead stock with one hole and stop; maximum length is 0.75 m (RCMAP) ...... Page 62

Figure 4.8. WA2, Type IVA lead stock with two holes and stop; maximum length is 0.63 m (RCMAP) ...... Page 62

Figure 4.9. C1, upper body fragment of a tentatively identified Will Type 10 shipping jar (RCMAP)...... Page 64

Figure 4.10. C1, interior of a body fragment lined with pitch (RCMAP) ...... Page 64

Figure 4.11. C8, Rhodian shipping jar handle and mouth fragment (RCMAP) .. Page 65

Figure 4.12. C2, locally produced Zemer 41 pinch handle jar (RCMAP)...... Page 65

Figure 4.13. C6, locally produced Zemer 41 pinch handle shipping jar toe; maximum length is 0.10 m (RCMAP)...... Page 66

Figure 4.14. Zemer 41 pinch handle shipping jar; maximum length is .75 m (Zemer 1978:52-53)…………………...... Page 66

Figure 4.15: C7 (top) and C5, handles of Syro-Palestinian shipping jars (RCMAP)...... Page 67

Figure 4.16: C4, upper body and handle of a Syro-Palestinian shipping jar (RCMAP)...... Page 67

Figure 4.17. C3, Late Roman Amphora I (LRA I) upper body (RCMAP)...... Page 68

Figure 4.18. WA2 and WA4, closely associated a) lead stock and b) collar (RCMAP)...... Page 71

Figure 4.19: AC 001, bronze horse socket (RCMAP) ...... Page 74

Figure 4.20: AC 002, composite lead and iron disk (RCMAP) ...... Page 74

Figure 4.21: AC 008, unknown lead object (RCMAP) ...... Page 74

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Figure 4.22: AC 001, limestone larnake (RCMAP) ...... Page 74

Figure 4.23: Column fragment (RCMAP) ...... Page 74

Figure 4.24: Mooring stone (RCMAP) ...... Page 74

Figure 4.25: Stone mortar (RCMAP) ...... Page 75

Figure 5.1. Map of the distribution of artifacts within the harbor at Antioch ..... Page 79

Figure 5.2. Steps carved into the rock on the eastern headland (RCMAP) ...... Page 80

Figure 5.3. Rough Cilicia Survey Pottery Totals, 1996-2003 ...... Page 84

Figure A.1: C1 (RCMAP)...... Page 106

Figure A.2: C2 (RCMAP)...... Page 106

Figure A.3: C3 (RCMAP)...... Page 106

Figure A.4: C4 (RCMAP)...... Page 106

Figure A.5: C7 (top), C5 (bottom) (RCMAP) ...... Page 106

Figure A.6: C6 (RCMAP)...... Page 106

Figure A.7. C8 (RCMAP)...... Page 106

Figure B.1: IA1 ...... Page 116

Figure B.2: IA2 ...... Page 116

Figure B.3: IA3 (RCMAP) ...... Page 116

Figure B.4: IA4 (RCMAP) ...... Page 116

Figure B.5: IA5 (RCMAP) ...... Page 116

Figure B.6: IA6 (RCMAP) ...... Page 116

Figure B.7: IA7 (RCMAP) ...... Page 116

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Figure B.8: IA8 ...... Page 116

Figure B.9: IA10 (RCMAP) ...... Page 116

Figure B.10: IA11 ...... Page 117

Figure B.11: IA12 ...... Page 117

Figure B.12: IA13 (RCMAP) ...... Page 117

Figure B.13: IA14 ...... Page 117

Figure B.14: IA15 ...... Page 117

Figure B.15: IA16 ...... Page 117

Figure B.16: IA17 ...... Page 117

Figure B.17: IA19 ...... Page 117

Figure B.18: IA20 ...... Page 118

Figure B.19: WA1 (RCMAP)...... Page 118

Figure B.20: WA2 (RCMAP)...... Page 119

Figure B.21: WA2, WA4 (RCMAP) ...... Page 119

Figure B.22: WA3 (RCMAP)...... Page 119

Figure B.23: WA4 (RCMAP)...... Page 119

Figure B.24: WA4 (RCMAP)...... Page 119

Figure C.1: S1 ...... Page 122

Figure C.2: S2 ...... Page 122

Figure C.3: S3 ...... Page 122

Figure C.4: S4 ...... Page 123

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Figure C.5: S5 ...... Page 123

Figure C.6: S6 ...... Page 123

Figure C.7: S7 ...... Page 123

Figure C.8: S8 ...... Page 123

Figure C.9: S9 (RCMAP) ...... Page 124

Figure C.10: S10 ...... Page 124

Figure C.11: S11 ...... Page 124

Figure C.12: S12 ...... Page 124

Figure C.13: S13 (RCMAP) ...... Page 125

Figure C.14: S14 (RCMAP) ...... Page 125

Figure C.15: S15 ...... Page 125

Figure C.16: S16 ...... Page 125

Figure C.17: S17 ...... Page 125

Figure C.18: S18 ...... Page 125

Figure C.19: S19 ...... Page 126

Figure C.20: S20 ...... Page 126

Figure C.21: S21(RCMAP) ...... Page 126

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ABSTRACT

In the late Hellenistic and early Roman periods, peoples from the Anatolian coast of Rough Cilicia were labeled pirates by the Romans after they embarked on a campaign of terror designed to indicate dissatisfaction with Roman rule. After more than 60 years of intermittent conflict, Roman general Pompey brought rebellion to an end, and a period of increasing prosperity based on local resources was initiated. In the summer of 2004, the Rough Cilicia Maritime Archaeological Project, in coordination with the Rough Cilicia Archaeological Survey Project, conducted an archaeological survey of one of the reported headquarters, the western harbor at Antiochia ad Cragum (Antioch). Ceramic and anchor data obtained from this survey are interpreted in this thesis, using similar artifact assemblages from the Mediterranean region for chronology and function. Spatial and temporal analyses, along with historical backgrounds and anthropological theories, are then used to construct preliminary conclusions regarding ancient social systems, particularly that of the pirates, operating in Rough Cilicia.

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CHAPTER 1

ROUGH CILICIAN PIRACY AND TRADE

Introduction

The Rough Cilician coast of the Mediterranean has had a dynamic history, experiencing a waxing and waning of imperial control, battles against political and cultural imposition, pirate activity and the naval forces that attempted to suppress it. Much of its historical importance has centered around elements of its geography: its inhospitable landscape, timber resources, lack of navigable harbors, and difficult access to the hinterland. The 2004 Rough Cilicia Maritime Archaeological Project (RCMAP), led by Cheryl Ward and working in concert with Nicholas Rauh of the Rough Cilicia Archaeological Survey Project (RCASP), seeks to understand the history of Rough Cilicia’s occupation, economy, trade and culture. After nine years of terrestrial survey beginning in 1996, the introduction of the maritime survey in 2004 and subsequent interpretation has helped expand our knowledge of how this region came to play an important role in the culture and history of the Mediterranean as a whole. The purpose of this thesis is to provide spatial and temporal analyses of the Rough Cilician harbor at Antiochia ad Cragum (Antioch) in the context of evolving social, political and economic conditions, emphasizing the period of pirate occupation and operation in the second and first centuries BCE. Harbor use will be examined by data from iron and stone anchors and shipping jar sherds found in the summer 2004 field season, principally for dates and spatial references. Historical and ancient textual evidence, anthropological theory, and other social scientific models will also be used to interpret the shifting occupation and control of the region and help to elucidate reasons for the prevalence of piracy in Rough Cilicia. Preliminary evaluation of the data indicates limited activity during the Late Hellenistic and Early Roman periods. The earliest evidence of occupation at Antioch

1 dates to the Late Hellenistic phase and is associated with the era of native rebellion and piracy described in ancient texts. A steady rise in population occurs in the Roman period and continues throughout Late Antiquity at Antioch. At this point, the Mediterranean experienced significant economic growth, expansion of trade and increased social interaction. Data from the harbor support this historical trend. Artifacts identified during the RCMAP survey suggests continuous diachronic use of the harbor at Antioch beginning in the Late Hellenistic period.

Piracy in Rough Cilicia

Perhaps the most significant historical time period in Rough Cilicia was from 133 – 67 BCE, when Cilician pirates came to dominate the eastern, and eventually entire, Mediterranean (de Souza 1999:97; Mitchell 1993:29; Rauh 1997a:266-7; Rauh et al. 2000:152). Rough Cilicia’s situation off principal trade routes and lack of accessible harbors or fertile land made it appealing to pirates, who flourished in the region. These pirates formed one of the most successful pirate operations in history, and forced Rome to attack several times before defeat in 67 BCE by Roman general Pompey the Great (Rauh 1997a:267; de Souza 1999:167). Antioch provided pirates with an ideal fortress with several hiding places, with its imposing rocky headlands that jut out into the Mediterranean. Officially founded by Antiochus IV, a regional king, in the middle first century CE, Antioch was likely one of the many harbors in Rough Cilicia used for pirate operations (Jones 1998:209, 212), and as Appian (Mith. 63) described, a likely headquarters (Rauh et al. 2000:133, 167). The harbor at Antioch was a primary focus of the 2004 summer field season. The natural harbor features identified in the survey provided many areas for mooring, construction of buildings, and access to the shore. Stairs, defensive walls, and a fortress on land, as well as submerged columns near the shore, give evidence for human occupation beginning in the Hellenistic period and expanding during the Byzantine period. In the harbor RCMAP archaeologists located approximately 45 stone, iron and wooden anchor remains, which may be able to provide dates for harbor use. Sherds of shipping jars were also found, the

2 characteristics of which, such as form and material, may provide dates for use and sources of production, depending on their completeness and preservation. These data and subsequent analyses may illustrate some of the systems at work in this particular harbor, and may be interpreted in the context of more extensive social systems operating within the Mediterranean region. Using Horden and Purcell’s (2000) connectivity model, the small-scale interaction and interdependence of microregions found in the archaeological record at Antioch may help to elucidate larger-scale interactions in the Mediterranean, both regionally and as a whole. The way in which the harbor at Antioch fits within the larger region surveyed by the Rough Cilicia Archaeological Survey Project is also important. An analysis of Rough Cilician piracy, trade and cultural interaction will be explored within the larger region of the RCASP survey area. The interpretations acquired may then be used in concert with that of the Rough Cilicia Archaeological Survey, and will contribute to a better understanding the region’s cultural history.

Historical Background of Roman Imperial Expansion and Rough Cilician Piracy

During the second and first centuries BCE, pirate rebellions against the Roman Empire in Rough Cilicia affected the entire Mediterranean region. One of the harbors at the center of these rebellions was at Antioch, situated within an active Mediterranean trade route from antiquity, in the centrally located Bay of Pamphylia in southern Turkey (Figure 1.1). Rough Cilicia comprises much of the eastern Bay of Pamphylia and is an important region for understanding ancient trade, cultural and political systems in the eastern Mediterranean. Events and historical particularities helped to form distinct cultural patterns among the Rough Cilicians that may play significant roles in the formation and success of piracy in the region. Material culture analyses are helpful and necessary parts of a holistic interpretation of ancient sites, but the archaeological interpretation of a site must also include historical and cultural contexts. One of the objectives of this chapter is to introduce the history of Rough Cilicia and propose possible paths leading to the

3 development of piracy among its inhabitants. Central to this discussion is the role of the Roman Empire and its expansion into the region. This expansion included taxation, territorial and political domination and cultural imposition. Compared to many other ancient sites, little is known of this region. One of the primary goals of the RCASP is to use archaeological evidence to fill the gaps in history left by these ancient sources in order to understand the cultural history of these peripheral societies. It was these societies, after all, that rose up against the Roman Empire with considerable success.

Geography of Rough Cilicia

Figure 1.1. Map of Southern Anatolia (after de Souza 1999:xiii).

There is debate over the actual boundaries of many regions in ancient Anatolia, including Cilicia, because of conflicting reports from ancient scholars (Rauh et al. 2000:154). The map in Figure 1.1 outlines perhaps the most agreed upon regional names for Southern Anatolia (de Souza 1999:xiii). Cilicia is often divided into two regions, defined and named by their geological characteristics. Flat or Smooth Cilicia, Cilicia

4 Pedias in antiquity, is the eastern region and derives its name from the flat alluvial plain of the Pyramus and Sarus rivers (Vann 1997:307). The alluvium afforded Flat Cilicia a rich agricultural base, where cereals, flax and muscatel grew in abundance (Jones 1998:192). To the west, however, ancient sources wrote that Rough Cilicia, or Cilicia Tracheia, was nearly uninhabitable (Jones 1998:192). The barren, rocky outcrops of the Taurus Mountains jut out into the Mediterranean; only the Calycadnus (Kalykadnus) River provides for easy access to the hinterland, and its generally small harbors are unable to accommodate large commercial ships (Jones 1998:192). The harbor at Antioch is one of a few large (250,000 m2) harbors in Rough Cilicia. Principal trade routes followed the coast of Flat Cilicia to the east, which was along one of the “easiest and most frequented land routes” (Jones 1998:192). Historically, timber was Rough Cilicia’s primary resource, though few cedar stands exist on the landscape today (Jones 1998:192; Doyle 2004).

Figure 1.2. Bay of Pamphylia, Rough Cilicia (Cilicia Tracheia) and Flat Cilicia (Cilicia Pedias) (after Mitchell 1993: Map I).

Robert L. Vann (1997) further subdivides Rough Cilicia. The western zone extends from Coraceseum (Alanya) to Anemurium (Anamur), or from the eastern Bay of Pamphylia to the southernmost tip of Turkey. This 125-km stretch includes the cities of Iotape, Selinus, and Antioch, the 2004 survey area. Rough Cilicia’s central territory stretches from Anemurium to Silifke and is defined by numerous bays along the coast divided by rocky promontories (Vann 1997:308). Seleucia on the Calycadnus is a major ancient city in the central zone. The eastern subdivision, between Silifke and Mersin, is

5 characterized by a smoother coastline with more accommodating natural harbors for smaller ships, and a gradually widening coastal plain (Vann 1997:308). The 2004 RCMAP survey area included sites in Vann’s western zone, particularly the harbor at Antioch. This region is historically significant because it was here that the Cilician pirates were organized and headquartered during the early periods of Roman occupation. Though occupied over time by several different rulers including the Attalids, Seleucids and Ptolemies, Rome did not take an interest in Rough Cilicia until trade and the maritime activities of the Eastern Mediterranean were threatened (de Souza 1999:166; Rauh 1997a:267). The threat of the Cilician pirates was enough to warrant occupation in a territory otherwise of little use or interest to the Roman Empire, because of its inhospitable geography. Rough Cilicia’s geographical position off principal trade routes and lack of accessible harbors or fertile land made it appealing to pirates.

History of Early Occupation

Based on ancient texts, the geographical region that is today called Cilicia is thought to have first been Kedi or Kode, as written in Egyptian records from the thirteenth century BCE (Jones 1998:192). By the eighth century BCE, the name Cilicia is first used in Assyrian texts, following what Jones (1998:192) describes as “the dark age of the migrations of the ‘peoples of the sea’,” during an intervening period between Hittite and Egyptian domination and that of the Assyrians. These “invaders” were most likely peoples from the Aegean. Myths surrounding the foundation of ancient Cilician cities by Greek heroes date to this period. “Invading” Aegean peoples likely pushed the local tribes of the Kedi or Kode into Rough Cilicia and the hinterland, based on the similarity of the names to the Cetae or Cietae, who Jones (1998:196) describes as the original Rough Cilicians. The more “civilized” tribes of the eastern part of the region splintered off to form separate communities, after which Cetae became a term reserved “the more barbarous western tribes” (Jones 1998:196). After the fall of the Assyrian Empire in the early seventh century BCE, Cilicia became an independent region ruled by the Syennesis dynasty of kings. The Persian emperor Cyrus the Great absorbed Cilicia into his territory, but left the kingdom intact

6 until the early fourth century BCE when Cilicia became a Persian satrapy (Jones 1998:197). There is some ambiguity over the official control of Rough Cilicia; it is likely that Flat Cilicia was the region that enjoyed the status of satrapy. Jones (1998:193,198) suggests that rather than being under Persian control, Rough Cilicia may have been governed by the high priests of Olba, a city which, in myth, was founded by Ajax, the son of Teucer. Flat Cilicia was later a battleground between the Seleucids and Ptolemies, two groups born from the dissolved Persian Empire, conquered by Alexander the Great in 332-331 BCE. The Seleucids initially held control of both Cilician regions, but because of Flat Cilicia’s vulnerable position along well-traveled trade routes, it soon was attacked by the Ptolemies who found Rough Cilicia’s timber resources desirable. Although Flat Cilicia remained largely under Seleucid control, Rough Cilicia, by the third century BCE, was, most likely, entirely incorporated into the Ptolemaic Empire for a short period of time (Jones 1998:200).

Emergence of the Pirates Some autonomy was gained after the rule of the Seleucid king Antiochus IV in the early second century BCE. Upon his death, civil war erupted that “gradually reduced the Seleucid kingdom to anarchy” (Jones 1998:201). The resulting political chaos created opportunities for rulers in the Anatolian interior, namely Mithridates, Pontic king and eventual enemy of the Roman Empire, to attempt to seize territories previously controlled by the Seleucids,. The Cilician pirates materialized during this period, originally organized by Seleucid military officer Diodotus Tryphon in his attempts to gain power over his rivals (Rauh 1997a:264). From 146-138 BCE, Tryphon formed naval forces along the Rough Cilician coastline, particularly at Coracesium. Coracesium eventually became the headquarters of the pirates and their last stronghold during their sweeping defeat by Pompey the Great in 67 BCE. After Tryphon’s death in 138 BCE, however, these naval forces continued to attack Syria and Cilicia, “apparently acting as independent autonomous pirate bands” (Rauh 1997a:264). The new threat affected the Teucrids of Olba, the independent kingdom that controlled much of Rough Cilicia during the anarchic period of the Seleucids (Jones

7 1998:202). Rough Cilician geography granted the pirates their Eden: vast supplies of timber for shipbuilding and a position off principal trade routes (Jones 1998:202). The steep bluffs of the Taurus Mountains and small anchorages granted pirates several hiding places, defensible promontories and forbidding waters for large ships of opposing navies. Additionally, Rhodian sea-power fell apart in the Mediterranean in the mid second century BCE (Jones 1998:202). After that, Jones notes, piracy was rampant in the eastern Mediterranean with Rough Cilicia as the seat of pirate operations (1998:202). Pirate raids were at first tolerated by others within the Mediterranean, partially because of the contribution to the economy through slave trading and reselling stolen goods. Further, most attacks were directed at the Seleucid kings, the enemies of many in Asia Minor because of power struggles over territory (Rauh 1997a:264). Violence eventually became more indiscriminate toward the end of the second century BCE, creating unrest among much of the Mediterranean. Defensive walls were built around many vulnerable smaller coastal cities to fend off pirates, and some cities abandoned their coastal settlements to move inland during this particularly perilous time (Hohlfelder and Vann 1998:31-2). Some cities also found it beneficial to cooperate with pirates rather than contest their dominance in order to protect their citizens. Port cities and rich landowners benefited from slave-running and often entered into agreements for protection in return for establishing markets for plundered goods (Casson 1991:180). The island of Delos, for example, created a ready market for kidnapped slaves and other pirate booty in exchange for protection from pirate attack and enslavement (Casson 1991:180; Rauh et al. 2000:156). Rauh (1999:170) argues that wine and slave trading may have been intimately connected among the pirates and Roman merchants of Delos, especially before and immediately after Rome’s official ban of all pirate interactions in 102 – 100 BCE. He cites André Tchernia’s wine-for-slaves theory, in which Italian wine cargoes were traded for slaves that were raided particularly from Seleucid Syria (Rauh 1999:170; Tchernia 1986: 68-74). Textual evidence also supports this idea, as Strabo writes:

The exportation of slaves induced them most of all to engage in their evil business, since it proved most profitable; for not only were the slaves easily captured, but the market, which was large and loaded with cash, was not very far

8 away. I mean Delos, which could take in and ship out tens of thousands of slaves in a single day (Strabo 14.5.2 [669]).

The Cilicians were able to “supply some crucial ‘black market’ requirement in an otherwise ‘legitimate’ trading network” (Rauh 1999:170), which could, presumably, include the trade of wine. Rauh et al. (2000:164-5) note, however, the relative lack of Italian wine amphora sherds found during pottery surveys of Rough Cilicia, which they believe invalidates Tchernia’s model for this region of the Mediterranean and indicate other trade systems revolving around Cilician piracy that were much more complicated than allowed by current models. Pirate activity, in general, strangled the flow of trade and created a culture of fear throughout much of the Mediterranean. Rome, fearing its position of dominance over much of the Mediterranean was threatened, decided to counteract this rebellion through diplomatic pressure and force in 102 BCE (Rauh 1997a:265). The Roman province of Cilicia was created to provide legitimacy to these laws, though the actual geographical boundaries of this provincial “Cilicia” are unknown (Jones 1998:202). The Roman Republic commissioned general M. Antionius “the Orator” to curb the pirate menace in 102 BCE, though his efforts were decidedly unsuccessful. Side, one of the major hubs of pirate operations, was the focal point of these attacks (Rauh et al. 2000:152). The king of Pontus, Mithridates VI, also challenged emergent Roman dominance, and initiated a long series of wars from 89 – 63 BCE (Mitchell 1993:30). Following Rome’s initial attacks, the pirates found a strategic ally in Mithridates. By this alliance with Mithridates, the pirates were afforded political backing for their illegal efforts, while Mithridates had the support of an organized group of pirates that held a profitable and domineering position in the eastern Mediterranean (Rauh 1997a:265). In 87 BCE, Mithridates led an assault on Delos, Rhodes and Lycia that was countered by Roman general L. Cornelius Sulla. The pirates served in Mithridates’ army and for their efforts were given funding and naval supplies from the Pontic king (Rauh 1997a:265). Rauh argues that by this point, the pirates dominated the entire Bay of Pamphylia and pirate chiefs had achieved enough power to establish independent territories along the Rough Cilician coast. Zenicetes, in particular, established his territory in eastern Lycia in the harbors of Olympus, Corycus and Phaselis, where, under the “eternal flames of the

9 Chimaera,” he performed rites to the god Mithras (Rauh et al. 2000:153). Other pirate chiefs built “impregnable fortresses” at Antioch and Coracesium (Strabo 14.3.2 (664); Rauh 1997a:265). In 77-76 BCE the Roman commander P. Servilius Vatia Isauricus, during his campaigns in Isauria and eastern Lycia, attempted to suppress the pirate threat in the Bay of Pamphylia. At the coastal city of Attaleia (modern Antalya), Isauricus deprived citizens of their lands after they established alliances with pirates (Rauh et al. 2000:153). Following Isauricus’ success in Pamphylia, the pirates focused their efforts in the west in an attempt to draw the attention of the Romans and other potential enemies away from their Rough Cilician base (Rauh 1997a:267). These efforts culminated in what was termed the “Unholy Alliance,” the partnership among the pirates, Mithridates and the Roman general Sertorius (Rauh 1997a:267). Inland raiding of Roman cities, especially in southern Italy, as well as abductions of high-profile Roman dignitaries were part of this offensive. The Roman fleet at Ostia, for example, was destroyed by the pirates, thus creating problems for the importation of goods and impending famine among Romans (de Souza 1999:166). Among those kidnapped were the praetors Sextilius and Billinus, the daughter of M. Antonius the Orator and Julius Caesar (Rauh 1997a:267). Additionally, cities that had traded with pirates were attacked, notably Delos, sacked by Athenodoros the pirate in 69 BCE (de Souza 1999:163). Plutarch (Pomp. 24), states that 13 sanctuaries were plundered, and 400 cities at the height of their power were captured. Because this intolerable threat now reached the western Mediterranean and directly affected the seat of Roman power in Rome, a more comprehensive and strategic campaign was organized by the Romans to counter the pirates. In 67 BCE, Roman general Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus was commissioned by the senate to defeat the pirates under the Lex Gabinia (Rauh 1997a:267). The Lex Gabinia gave Pompey almost unilateral control of all naval activity in the Mediterranean, and he had the authority to override any magistrate within fifty miles of the sea (de Souza 1999:167). De Souza argues that this sudden desire to eradicate piracy was because of the threat to Rome, rather than to provide for the safety of its far-flung provinces and citizens. Pompey’s

10 appointment may have been spurred more from “the threat to Italy and Rome…which finally stung the Romans into more drastic action” (de Souza 1999:165). The most immediate cause of this offensive was, perhaps, the threat of grain shortages in Rome, home to one million citizens (de Souza 1999:166; Storey 1997:966). Cicero (Leg. Man. 35) explains that Pompey’s initial strategies were to secure the three granaries in Sicily, Africa and Sardinia with large fleets and armies. Plutarch outlined Pompey’s naval strategies, by stating:

Notwithstanding this achievement, he divided up the coast and seas into 13 regions, assigning a number of ships to each one, with a commander. His forces were spread out, threatening the pirate hordes from all sides so that they were swiftly caught and brought to land. The more elusive ones were driven together towards Cilicia, like bees swarming to their hive. Pompey made ready to move against them with 60 of his best ships (Pomp. 26.3)

Within three months, Pompey had beaten the pirates by cornering them in their harbors (de Souza 1999:168-9) and urging them to surrender with promises of leniency. Resettlement was also offered (Rauh 1997a:267-8). Ancient sources (Appian Mith. 96, and Plutarch Pomp. 28.1) write that the battles waged in Cilicia were hardly battles but nearly immediate surrenders, beginning with one of the largest strongholds at Kragos and Antikragos (Antioch ad Cragum). Coracesium was the final pirate stronghold where a naval battle and siege occurred (de Souza 1999:169-70). Pompey’s policy of leniency is considered the chief reason for the rapid suppression of Cilician piracy. Rather than condemn the pirates to death, as was typical under Roman rule (Plut. Pomp. 28.2; de Souza 1999:170), Pompey gave them the option of peaceful surrender. Pompey justified this under the assumption that he could distinguish between those who were innately “wicked” and those who were driven by impoverishment (de Souza 1999:170). To some he offered land for their ships, and settled many former pirates as farmers in inland Cilician regions, away from view of the sea (de Souza 1999: 170, 175-6). Ongoing wars with Mithridates served as an additional reason for a quick resolution to the problem of Cilician piracy (de Souza 1999:172). Pompey was to take control of the Roman military against Mithridates following his campaign against the

11 pirates. This was a high-profile position that could afford Pompey additional military glory and political favor. Indeed, his pirate resettlement plan and policy of leniency may be viewed as a political maneuver. As de Souza (1999:176) notes, Pompey treated “them more like political enemies than pirates.” Quick, sweeping success over the pirates established Pompey as a competent general capable of leading other high-profile military campaigns.

Figure 1.3. Coin minted by Sulla in 56 BCE in praise of Pompey the Great. The obverse is a portrait of Hercules, and the reverse symbolizes Pompey’s naval achievements, as it includes a stern ornament (de Souza 1999:174).

After the Pirates Mithridates committed suicide in 63 BCE, ending decades-long wars with the Roman Empire. The Pontic kingdom was then converted to a Roman province, attached to Bithynia (Mitchell 1993:31). Following the assassination of Julius Caesar in 44 BCE, internal political struggles for power reignited the pirate wars to a lesser degree under Sextus Pompey, General Pompey’s son (Rauh 1997a:268). Little is written about this resurgence, however, and so it would seem that for all intents and purposes the pirate threat was alleviated within the Mediterranean after Pompey’s thorough campaign. Confusion over territorial control of Rough Cilicia arises once again after Pompey’s eradication of the pirate threat. All of Rough Cilicia, except for Seleucia on the Calycadnus, was given to Cleopatra as a gift from Antony, primarily for timber used in ship-building. After Octavian defeated Antony and Cleopatra at Actium, Octavian did not

12 reannex the region, because he believed it was “unripe for direct Roman rule, a country of unruly tribes and robber chiefs which needed more constant and more intimate supervision than a Roman governor could give to it” (Jones 1998:209). Ajax of the house of Teucrid, a dynasty established before piracy dominated Rough Cilicia, was named ruler of the majority of territory, while Amyntas, king of Galatia, was awarded the rest. After Amyntas’ death, the western part of his territory was absorbed by Galatia (Jones 1998:209). Antiochus IV of Commagene was given the eastern principality formally ruled by Amyntas in 38 CE and ruled until 72 CE. Jones (1998:205) writes that the Cetae rebelled against the Romans in 52 CE, but were defeated by Antiochus IV of Commagene, who then founded Irenopolis, ‘the city of peace,’ in the land of the ‘pacified’ Cetae. Vespasian, according to Suetonius (Vesp., 8.4), made Rough Cilicia an official province of the Roman Empire, and relieved Antiochus of his position as king in 70 CE (Jones 1998:209; Shaw 1990:231). Antiochia ad Cragum, or Antioch on the Kragos, is named for Antiochus IV, which was also known as Antioch in Lamotis and Antioch on Sea, positioned west of Charadros on the “port of Lamus, on the promontory of Cragus” (Jones 1998:212). Iotape, another coastal city just west of Selinus, was named for Antiochus’ wife. Antiochus also founded Claudiopolis, accessible through the port of Nephelion immediately west of Antioch (Jones 1998:212-13). After Pompey’s campaign, the geographically divided regions of Rough Cilicia experienced vast differences in their subsequent settlements. The tribal Cetae maintained several small cities, while larger, more cohesive tribes of the Lalasseis and Cennatae settled in the cities of Claudiopolis and Diocaesarea (Jones 1998:213). Though these peoples seem to have maintained their reclusive and rebellious nature (as noted by periodic raids in the region by these groups in subsequent centuries), terrorism on the level of the Cilician pirates was never experienced again in Rough Cilicia. Flat Cilicia and Rough Cilicia eventually became the Byzantine provinces Cilicia Prima and Secunda, with several established cities in the interior, perhaps by resettled pirates after their defeat. This relative peace may have been an impetus for further settlement and expansion at Antioch, supported by an increase in cultural material dated to the Late Roman and Byzantine periods.

13 Summary

In 2004, the RCMAP conducted snorkel and diver surveys throughout the entire harbor at Antioch, and recovered and analyzed potentially diagnostic artifacts. Using data acquired during the 2004 season for anthropological analyses and interpretation, I consider the cultural history of these native Cilicians against the backdrop of Mediterranean history and anthropological theory. Of particular interest, and indeed the focus of much of the following analyses, is the historically documented occupation of the region by individuals the Romans identified as pirates rebelling against the encroaching Roman Empire. As a tool for the Romanization of native groups, systems of taxation and establishment of large farms and estates created debts to Rome among the natives who also lost title to their land in the process. Holistic theories of cultural interaction and theories of value are used in the next chapter to establish a framework for understanding social systems extant at Antioch, and to serve as the basis for a model to explain the motivation to engage in a rebellion against the Empire. Understanding the background and history of the Roman occupation and campaigns against the pirates is essential for understanding why this marginalized, semi- egalitarian society of bandits in a region otherwise ignored could rise to such power and create so much chaos. By combining the textual evidence of ancient sources with the material remains identified by the RCASP, a more thorough exploration of this region’s cultural history is attainable.

14 CHAPTER 2

THEORETICAL OVERVIEW

Introduction

As Rome conquered much of the classical world, it came to dominate classical literature and the imaginations of scholars and popular culture alike. All but forgotten in history were the stories of the conquered peoples, subsumed under the Roman government and robbed of their identities except when convenient to illustrate the “glories” of the vast and diverse Roman Empire. The story of the pirates of Cilicia paints a different picture, one that, perhaps inconveniently, illustrates the infinite complexity of human culture and social interaction in the ancient world. In 67 BCE, Roman general Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus was afforded almost unilateral control of the Roman navy to defeat this ring of pirates that operated out of Rough Cilicia for 72 years (Rauh 1997a:267). Over the course of their dominance, these formerly reclusive people kidnapped Julius Caesar, choked trade routes along the northeastern Mediterranean corridor, made strategic alliances with some of Rome’s greatest enemies, and sacked the port of Rome at Ostia. These brazen acts were likely the reaction to a political structure in Rough Cilicia shifting from a relatively autonomous society to a far-flung periphery of the expanding Roman Empire. The strategies utilized by Rome in order to subordinate newly incorporated regions like Rough Cilicia – such as taxation and sociocultural imposition – may have instead served to motivate this increasingly organized subaltern society. The collision of these two cultures and the exceptional incidence of piracy and rebellion that emerged from this interaction are perhaps best explored using theoretical frameworks that examine culture as a system or a network of factors that motivate social actions. Karl Marx’s philosophy of internal relations, used primarily in the context of capitalism, influenced many works concerned with the interaction of cultural groups and

15 social dynamics on both large and small scales. Viewing the Mediterranean as a complex system of interactions, beginning on a microregional scale, demonstrates the application of Marx’s theory used in Horden and Purcell’s (2000) connectivity model. Their model is a further refinement of similar, preceding models that endeavor to explain complex social relations. In contrast to earlier theories such as world-systems, Horden and Purcell attempt to explain social relations without falling into a deterministic trap – economic, environmental or otherwise – by maintaining that all elements of social activity may be mutually dependent. Likewise, all elements of social activity are equally as influential. Using these models that allow for analyses of several dynamic social systems, I examine the volatile relationship between the Roman Empire and the pirates of Cilicia in this chapter. The relationship originated during incipient colonization and was exacerbated by subsequent processes of imperial domination. In particular, I explore the Roman tributary system and its role in the hegemonic indoctrination and political stabilization of the imperial frontiers. In addition, I examine Roman taxation as a system of value that likely served to motivate the subjugated pirates to react in subversive and often violent ways toward the imperial system.

Capitalism as a Cultural System in Contemporary Theory

Contemporary theories that address systems of cultural interaction are organized principally around the phenomena of capitalism and globalization. Karl Marx’s 1867 Capital Volume I was one of the first analyses of capitalism in Western society. Immanuel Wallerstein (1974) applied Marx’s mode of production on a global scale to his conception of the modern world-system. While both use capitalism as a platform from which to examine cultural systems, the ultimate intent of their analyses seems to be an examination of culture as a system of interdependent relations. In this capacity, a relational model that explores the complex network of social factors may be applicable to societies that exist without capitalism, including pre-capitalist societies such as the Roman Empire and the smaller, isolated societies in Rough Cilicia. These analyses – Marx’s analysis of capitalism, Wallerstein’s modern world- system and Horden and Purcell’s concept of connectivity – are related by their use of

16 Marx’s philosophy of internal relations. Wallerstein adopted and expanded the idea of internal relations to involve several politically organized regions in a system dominated by a global capitalist economy. Horden and Purcell adopt a more faithful version of Marx’s philosophy to examine pre-capitalist Mediterranean society, an approach that may be particularly useful for examining the phenomenon of piracy in Rough Cilicia.

Marx’s Theory of Internal Relations An elemental idea of Marx’s theory of internal relations is that humans tend to reify abstract elements of society in order to understand them in useful and meaningful ways (Ollman 1971:12). While the existence of categories serves for useful interpretation, the acceptance of categories and their discrete boundaries denies their inherent relationships with the rest of reality. The cognitive structures of our mind that create these “natural” categories lead us to believe in their discreteness, but Marx argued that because of this “our contact with reality…is contact with a conceptualized reality” (Ollman 1971:12) which is not capable of seeing and understanding its relations in entirety. Marx was heavily influenced by contemporary philosopher Joseph Dietzgen, who was primarily interested in the establishment of factors that were used to explain structural theories (Ollman 1971:39). By beginning with larger systems of relations and working downwards, he determined that “the ways of dividing up the [whole] into distinct parts called ‘things’ is endless” (Ollman 1971:39). Any system (or entity) is fundamentally definable only as an interdependence of infinite parts. This interdependence is illustrated by the central theme of Marx’s theories of capitalism. To Marx, all things, structures, ideas, people, commodities, etc. are relations in themselves – they would not exist were it not for the network of relations their very beings represent. Everything is a microcosm of society at large, and everything contains bundles of relations that can be expanded infinitely on a larger or smaller scale. It is particularly useful to employ a model of internal relations to understand ancient global phenomena. Such a model allows for the recognition of the influence each social factor has in a system. Rather than giving primacy to one factor, such as the mode of production, and subsequently ignoring the rest, other factors not considered prime

17 movers may be found to influence the systemic processes in ways otherwise unknown unless accounted for. Rough Cilician society, by this model, is not only explained in popular economic or political terms, but is understood as a complex whole of human activity, both among social factors and as part of a larger system of cultural interaction with other cultural groups, such as the Romans and other neighboring towns. The argument for the inclusion of all relational factors, regardless of how significant they are thought to be within the social system, is also an argument against deterministic theoretical models.

World Systems-Theory Immanuel Wallerstein proposed the modern world-system as a new world economic order based on the success of European capitalism. The world economy, he argued, had eclipsed the older ruling institutions of religion and politics. As a result, the history of the western world since the fifteenth century could be explained entirely in economic terms, by way of global economic relations. Wallerstein’s idea of a world system was unique because it illustrated global relations as a dense network of interrelated factors; it took the internal relations model and applied it on a global scale. But at the same time, it gave primacy to one social factor over all others, potentially overlooking other relations within the system that were equally influential. Using this model to interpret ancient, pre-capitalist societies is particularly problematic (Schneider 1977). Is it possible, through the lens of a modern society entrenched in capitalism, to envision and explain a world that existed thousands of years ago without capitalism?

Wallerstein’s modern world-system. André Gunder Frank initially proposed the idea of a world-system by dividing the world into core nations and periphery nations, with an emphasis on the exploitation of the peripheries by the core in order to increase core wealth (Gunder Frank 1966:18-9). He explained that the poverty of peripheral nations and the great wealth of core nations were directly linked through the exploitative nature of capitalism (Gunder Frank 1966:18-9). Wallerstein’s thesis on the modern world-system in 1974 furthered Gunder Frank’s idea, stressing that the modern world-system was chiefly economic and that it

18 eclipsed the world-empire as the dominant world system. The modern world-system has a capitalist mode of production that was born from the breakdown of feudalism in Britain in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries (Wallerstein 1974:15). Following an economic crisis in England, Wallerstein argued that capitalism emerged as a way to generate capital for the elites at the expense of the peasantry. The German Calvinist movement, which promoted “continuous hard work and self denial” (Bodley 2000:305) and the era of European colonization also spurred a successful capitalist system, which ensured vast territory and new populations from which to exploit labor and resources. Wallerstein describes a world-system as “a social system, one that has boundaries, structures, member groups, rules of legitimation, and coherence” (1974:347). The modern world-system encompasses an area that supersedes political boundaries; it is united economically, as the economic structure supersedes the political. It is a world-economy in which capitalism is allowed to flourish unconstrained by political or religious constructs. Due to a lessening of these formerly powerful structures, the merchant class and its ability for capital accumulation was able to eclipse that of the other classes in states that would become the core. Wallerstein not only accepts Marx’s ultimate claim that the capitalist mode of production dominates much of modern society, he also provides a multi-faceted historical account of its development and evolution, involving political, social, religious, cultural and economic structures. His approach to the understanding of society is much like that of Marx – throughout his thesis he illustrates the interconnectedness of each related factor, culminating in a social system that seems to function solely to maintain the economic system. He similarly employs an organic model to explain the world-system, arguing that “its life is made up of conflicting forces…it has a life span over which its characteristics change in some respects and remain stable in others” (Wallerstein 1974:347). But this world-system per Wallerstein’s definition is also “largely” autonomous. He contends that “the dynamics of its development are largely internal” (1974:347). Its autonomy is hypothesized in Wallerstein’s statement that “if the system, for any reason, were to be cut off from all external forces (which virtually never happens), the definition implies that the system would continue to function substantially in the same manner” (1974:347).

19 This characterization is similar to what Ollman (1971:15) describes as the “common sense view” that Marx argues against in his theoretical analysis of social relations. Wallerstein diverges here from the internal relations philosophy and adopts a position that promotes giving primacy to one individual factor – the economic system of capitalism. Because Wallerstein’s modern world-system is economically determinist, it ignores other factors involved in systems of cultural interaction such as politics, geography, ideology, nationalism and identity. It is this determinist stance that divorces Wallerstein from Marx’s early philosophy of internal relations and creates a somewhat incomplete image of a cultural system.

Substantivism and Formalism: Two Ways to Interpret Social Systems A parallel debate still persists within economic anthropology between the so- called “formalists” and “substantivists.” These groups differ over fundamental issues concerning the role of economic systems within society and the variations of these systems that have emerged over time. Formalist reasoning asserts that universal laws govern exchange systems and relationships diachronically, and are seen as natural and uniform. All elements of society (including social relationships) are reducible to material things, and the study of culture is superfluous and clouds the formal rules of market exchange that are intrinsic to all societies. Like Wallerstein’s theory, the economy is the true governing system. The Hungarian economist Karl Polanyi coined these terms and was himself a substantivist, an approach that propounds the idea of multiple layers of “embeddedness” (Godelier 1972; Kingsley and Decker 2001) operating within society among social structures and institutions. Reified categories such as “politics,” “religion,” “economics” and the like are believed to be indistinguishable systems that operate together within a particular society (or perhaps a world-system). Similar to Durkheim’s functionalism, Graeber notes, “society is an active force in its own right, not just a collection of individual action” (2001:11). Opposing theories of the role of economics in society color any subsequent theories created on a fundamental level. These ideas are particularly significant when examining and interpreting ancient societies and systems of exchange, because whatever

20 approach is taken correlates with the belief that ancient systems operated either in the same way as capitalist systems or were distinctly different. The frameworks one uses to interpret these systems – ancient and modern – are then entirely different. The categorization of abstract social factors taken up by the formalists can be considered to be “the work of the human mind” (Ollman 1971: 38-9). It is not, according to Marx’s philosophy of internal relations, natural or true. The reductionist tendency of formalist theory serves as an example of Marx’s “fetishism of the commodity,” in which social relations are inaccurately reduced to autonomous things, such as commodities, land or territory (Ollman 1971:28; Graeber 2001:9). These relationships encapsulated within the “thing” are not only ignored but, in the capitalist system at least, “bear the unmistakable stamp of belonging to a social formation in which the process of production has mastery over man” (Marx 1976:174-5 [1867]). In other words, the modern capitalist system and its alienating tendencies color our conception of social relations in ancient systems of interaction as well. What Marx believed to be true was the limitless aggregation of relations that influence other factors – nothing can be understood discretely, but must be understood in context with all other relations. This model is closely related to the substantivist model of social relations, and can be helpful in understanding a system of mutually influential, active parts. Since 1974, a number of scholars have considered how best to approach world- systems theory from an archaeological viewpoint without the limitations of capitalism. Sherratt and Sherratt (1998) maintain Wallerstein’s idea of a modern world-system as fundamentally distinct from pre-capitalist societies, but emphasize political structures and the elite control of and access to material goods. The trade of luxury goods in ancient societies has been a point of contention among many scholars (Schneider 1977), and while Sherratt and Sherratt acknowledge its importance, they stress that imperial control of trade in subsistence goods was essential for the maintenance of social and political hierarchies. The role of material goods is further explained by Wilkie and Farnsworth (1999), who underscore the importance of creations of meaning and identity in society. They seek to explain ways to extract data of a complex and abstract nature, (i.e., identity, covert prestige and symbolic meaning) from the archaeological record.

21 Other important contributions to a thorough analysis of dynamic societies include environmental studies, geography and anthropological studies of “otherness” or Orientalism (Oldroyd 1996; Piot 1999:20-2). For this thesis particularly, analyses of systems of value that are both culturally descriptive and prescriptive of creative action are explored (Gregory 1997; Graeber 2001). What this post-world-systems trend shows is that rather than being constrained by economic deterministic theories or inherent limitations in the archaeological or historical records, we can interpret the similarly dynamic nature of ancient societies and social interactions using more elaborated theories of cultural ecology and structural interdependence, no matter how abstract. Because the rise and persistent success of the pirate subalterns in the Roman Empire was inevitably caused by several factors and the relations among them, it is important to use comprehensive models to examine Rough Cilician social complexity.

Connectivity Although Marx later advocated a materialist theory to explain social relations in capitalist society (which Wallerstein adopts in his world-systems theory), current interpretive trends are now oriented away from economic determinism and toward a more faithful application of Marx’s philosophy of internal relations. The connectivity model follows this trend away from exclusive materialism toward more comprehensive examinations of society, offering multiple interpretations and syntheses of the essentially interactionist approach taken by Wallerstein in world-systems theory. Eric Cline (1999:132) for example, applies the world-systems model to a study of ancient political economic systems. In it, he outlines the different levels of interaction, exploitation and political organization exhibited by different polities in the Mediterranean. Further, he argues that these different levels of interaction can be collapsed into a more multi-faceted theory emphasizing socio-political complexity. Horden and Purcell’s (2000) theory of connectivity is similar to Wallerstein’s theory in that it attempts to explain larger, relatively unbounded social systems, but does so from a directly opposite approach – by examining microregional relations among multiple societal factors. The connectivity model recognizes the importance of economics

22 and production, but only within a dynamic, fluid system of interdependent elements that operate on a smaller, local scale. It is one theoretical model of many that signals a trend away from excessive materialism toward more comprehensive examinations of society, offering multiple interpretations and syntheses of the essentially interactionist approach taken by Wallerstein in world-systems theory.

The interaction of microregions. The connectivity model, applied by Horden and Purcell to the interaction of Mediterranean microregions, mirrors Marx’s philosophy of internal relations because of its emphasis on the complementary interaction of infinite relations operating in a society, or between societies. Horden and Purcell’s (2000:151) model proposes that a more useful way of understanding the relationship among microregions is to focus “from the bottom up: by looking…at their recurrent, less glamorous, features instead of working from the top downwards.” Horden and Purcell argue that distinctions should not be made between high commerce and that of the small- scale activities of small coastal traders. Instead they apply “the concept of routes with a notion of shifting webs of casual, local, small-scale contacts radiating from slightly different centres in different ages but constant in their economic and social effect” (Horden and Purcell 2000:144). Horden and Purcell argue that the interpretation of history needs to include an ecological approach in two ways. First, incorporating a holistic approach that seeks to explain the entire political, social and economic context of a particular locality over time is necessary. Second, when these social systems are unraveled for more analytical purposes and more specialized interpretation, a recognition of their perpetual interdependence must be maintained (2000:54). A focus on microregions or microecologies may also make recognizing the effects of these individual elements of society such as politics and the economy clearer, because these microregions are always “responsive to the pressures of a much larger setting” (Horden and Purcell 2000:54). From a microregional starting point, one can then extend the ecological approach to larger geographical areas, and then to the region as a whole. Connectivity also applies to the geographical connections of microregions, through lines of communication whether by roads, sea or the interaction of the two:

23 coastal cities and their connections to the hinterland (Horden and Purcell 2000:10, 124, 142-4, 172). The modes and landscapes of production are included in this as well, they “ultimately constitute the weave of the world,” or the basis for interaction (Horden and Purcell 2000:79). Horden and Purcell’s approach is in contrast with world-systems theory, as connectivity stresses that there are no clear divisions between the core, semi- periphery and periphery. Rather, there is infinite variability among regions. Culture and society are best understood on a continuum, rather than separated into divisions based on economic might, as Wallerstein’s model suggests (Horden and Purcell 2000:144). Cultural variability also extends to the level of interaction among these regions. Whether inhabited by the caboteur or the Roman emperor, each region works in concert to create a sustainable economic or trade system. Connectivity works well in archaeology, since archaeological data are typically the remains of smaller social systems. It is difficult to construct a valid interpretation of the activities of the whole from materials found in a single harbor, such as at Antioch. Instead, by constructing valid interpretations on a smaller scale, we may combine these interpretations to explain more socially, economically and politically influential systems and societies, without using reductionist strategies which often ignore equally significant processes. What Horden and Purcell’s theory demonstrates is that, rather than being constrained by economic deterministic theories or inherent limitations in the archaeological or historical records, one can interpret the similarly dynamic nature of ancient societies and social interactions using more elaborated theories of cultural ecology and structural interdependence, no matter how abstract. Since the rise and persistent success of the pirate subalterns in the Roman Empire was inevitably caused by multiple factors and the relations among them, it is important to use these comprehensive models to explain Rough Cilician social complexity.

Economic determinism and western interpretations of society. The exchange of material goods is, historically, a principal forum of cultural interaction. Yet it is an economic venture, primarily, which may be why most theories explaining this interaction are economic at heart. Horden and Purcell’s connectivity model does not ignore the influence of economic systems, but allows for other factors such as politics, geography,

24 religion and technology to be part of the interpretation of society as a whole. Perhaps the application of a strong materialist perspective to the idea of a modern world-system is mostly a product of Western interpretation of society. This approach may preclude the interpretation of other social motivations that may exist but are ignored or unseen because of an economic deterministic perspective. The connectivity model accounts for this bias. While the world economy may well be the prime-mover of culture and global interaction, other cultural institutions have not entirely disappeared. As a result, purely materialist motivations of capital accumulation and exploitation are allowed to emerge.

A Theoretical Analysis of Piracy in Rough Cilicia

Elements of these theories may be used to approach the study of piracy in Rough Cilicia. Substantivist models, such as connectivity, and substantivist reinterpretations of more formalist frameworks, such as Greg Woolf’s (1990:45-7) reconstruction of Wallerstein’s world systems-theory, are particularly valuable frameworks that seek to holistically explain cultural phenomena. In this case, I use these models to analyze the idiosyncrasies of Rough Cilician piracy in the political and economic contexts of Roman taxation and imperial domination. Finally, I will implement Gregory’s (1997) and Graeber’s (2001) theories of value to examine and employ culturally unique variables in a theory of motivation and social behavior.

Historical Background A variety of large-scale political developments in the region motivated the organization of the pirates, particularly the encroachment of the Roman Empire. Before the Roman period, these pirate groups were largely comprised of the socially and geographically isolated peoples of the Taurus Mountains. Colonization and cultural imposition was met with hostility, creating an unstable periphery for Rome. Woolf (1990:48) notes that the instability of the imperial frontier directly affects the stability of the world-empire. Maintenance of frontier regions was particularly tenuous, especially as neighboring rival empires competed for the same territory and formerly autonomous groups rebelled against the colonization of the Empire. During this early period of Roman

25 colonization in Asia Minor, Rough Cilicia was on the frontier. According to this model, it was essential for Rome to secure Rough Cilicia for the overall stabilization of the Empire. This concern could partially explain the enormous amount of money and effort spent by the Roman Empire to eliminate the pirate threat in the Mediterranean.

The Roman Empire and the social meaning of money. Ideas about the social meaning of money seem to fall in line with those generated in substantivist-formalist debates. In his later theories, Marx saw the capitalist mode of production as the core of social relations. He similarly saw the money form as a commodity that carries with it these same tendencies, as a microcosm of the social relations it has come to govern (Marx 1976:168-9 [1867]). Money in this sense can be considered “an irresistible and ‘radical leveler,’ invading all areas of social life” (Zelizer 1994:8). Social relations, particularly the interdependence of social, symbolic, political and economic factors, is manifested clearly in the Roman tributary system. The Roman imperial practice of taxation, or the tributary mode of production, is considered by Wallerstein, “the logic of the world-empire” (Woolf 1990:47). It thus may be viewed as a tool for political dominance. The money form itself can be symbolic of many things, particularly when used as a vehicle for political propaganda as was often the case in Roman coinage (Zanker 1988). Ultimately the pattern of taxation within the Empire is telling of the social division of taxpayers and citizens, and seems to be neatly aligned with Wallerstein’s core-periphery framework. A more complex and dynamic adaptation of Wallerstein’s world-empire is applied to the Roman imperial structure by Woolf (1990). Before capitalism, world-economies were collapsed into world-empires that were strengthened by a “unified political structure” (Wallerstein 1974:16). In this model, the world-empire was comprised of, and governed over, countless distinct cultural groups that were unified primarily by the “political unity of the economy” (Wallerstein 1976:347). Formerly independent states were integrated into the Empire by the tributary system that was often immediately enacted once a region was conquered and colonized (Woolf 1990:47). The abrupt changes in the economic and political systems of indigenous groups through rapid acculturation resulted in several native revolts described by ancient historians (Dyson

26 1975:139-40). Woolf (1990:46) notes the importance of the imperial tributary system used to subsume newly conquered regions into the Roman political economy. While physical occupation was often initially difficult in these peripheral regions, a constant reminder of political dominance was demonstrated through systems of taxation and the use of Roman money. Through these systems, local, social hierarchies either developed or were exaggerated. As it expanded, the Roman Empire increasingly dominated regions and peoples of vastly differing cultures. Likewise, it became difficult to acquire and maintain loyalty of these diverse groups to the core. Loyalty was often sought through the societal elites of these formerly independent states, and as Woolf (1990:46-7) notes, “empire-formation may have entailed the cultural unification of the ruling strata…while the subject populations remained as segmented as before.” A symbiotic relationship often developed between local elites and Roman political leaders. This relationship is evident in imperial images and portraits (often statues) designed by localities to elicit favor from Rome, or to show gratitude (Rose 1997:109). These images serve to reinforce not only Roman dominance, but also the dominance of the locally appointed leaders. When symbols such as these are crafted on Roman coins, they serve to justify the economic order of the Empire as well. Coins were particularly effective as tokens of propaganda because of their ubiquity and size, and literally became pocket-size advertisements for Roman leaders and their accomplishments, as well as symbols of rivalry and war (Zanker 1988:33-57). Woolf also subscribes to the notion of symbolic domination. He argues that, in addition to Wallerstein’s world-empire and world-economy, symbolic domination has the potential to have been powerful enough to be considered a third type of world-system. The symbolic world-system may have been “supra-regionally” dominant, “achieved by a social formation in which symbolic or religious power has subordinated political and economic interests to its own” (Woolf 1990:54). Finally, the structure of the tributary system itself is telling of the imperial social division and hierarchy. Italian citizens, including the largest landowner – the Emperor, were not taxed on their land, while poor peasants and tenant farmers were taxed most heavily (Garnsey and Saller 1987:9; Finley 1999:32, 89-91). Land taxation formed the bulk of the Empire’s wealth, but as Finley (1999:55) explains, “the opportunity for

27 ‘political moneymaking’ can hardly be over-estimated…money poured in from booty, indemnities, provincial taxes, loans and miscellaneous exactions in quantities without precedent in Graeco-Roman history, and at an accelerating rate.” While Finley (1999:89) noted a common belief among historians that the early Roman tributary system was not oppressive, one must also consider that those bearing the brunt of the tax burden were not writing ancient history (Dyson 1975:140-1). The imperial strategy of taxation to subordinate conquered peoples may be counted as an integral part of the motivation for piratical activity in Rough Cilicia. Theories of value may be helpful starting points in order to understand the motivations of these ancient subalterns. As Graeber (2001:11) notes, the substantivist approach of looking at society as a whole to explain interrelated systems often fails by virtue of the over-complexity necessary to explain what motivational factors are at work that make one system or social trend successful over another. Inherently complex and abstract notions of social motivation (and in this case imperial resistance) may be elucidated by historical accounts of Roman bureaucracy, such as taxation, comparative analyses of other subaltern societies and theories of value likely attributable to the peoples of Rough Cilicia.

The Roman tributary system. Roman taxation in Rough Cilicia was likely the impetus for major, unwelcome structural changes that may have led to piratical rebellion. In 133 BCE, Attalus III gave Rome the Attalid kingdom, which began the gradual absorption of Asia Minor into the Roman Empire (Mitchell 1993:29). While the physical occupation of Asia Minor did not occur until 87 BCE, economic exploitation and taxation began in 123 BCE when a law of the tribune C. Gracchus gave the Roman equestrian order the right to collect taxes from the Asian provinces of Rome (Mitchell 1993:29-30). If Asian citizens were not able to pay these taxes, as many found they were not, they were given the option of borrowing from Roman banks and moneylenders (further engaging them in the Roman political-economic system), or selling off their land. Because of this, individual Romans began acquiring property in Asia Minor from recently conquered Asians unable to pay taxes by any other means (Mitchell 1993:30).

28 Slave trading and raiding was a byproduct of Roman economic exploitation, as slaves were often used as a source of payment when taxpayers had no more land or money left to give. Mithridates, in particular, was sympathetic to the native populations. Whether for his own political aspirations or for “justice” to be carried out upon the Romans, in 88 BCE he ordered the killing of all Romans or Italians in his newly acquired Asian province (Mitchell 1993:30). Perhaps Roman economic dominance over the region and the persistence of slave trading were two primary reasons for the development of piracy, particularly in Rough Cilicia.

Roman taxation and pirate motivation. Cultural variation may be the only constant feature in society, and from this, it follows that universally applied strategies of domination, such as taxation and governance, will be met with variable results. While it is possible that some regions were happy to become enveloped by the Roman Empire, the majority was likely not, and the vast army employed by Rome needed to conquer and contain rebellions serves as evidence. There are similarly variable means of rebellion, piracy being one, that meet various ends. Some may be successful and some may not, but all are influenced by these interactions, again, to varying degrees. Rome may have been guilty of assuming fundamental similarities among its conquered peoples, particularly that of hierarchical organizations necessary to establish political ties to local elites for governance. The imperial formula for regional “Romanization” may have instead created more hierarchical societies by allying with local elites and rewarding these elites with gifts, further elaborating the social hierarchical structure (Rose 1997:109). But this formula itself may have been met with antagonism in more egalitarian societies. Pirates, for instance, are known to have operated historically in a relatively egalitarian way, and groups that adopted this lifestyle may have done so to maintain formerly egalitarian social structures (Rediker 1981:208- 9). Local elites may also have been more powerful than regional Roman governors. Power struggles between the highland “bandits” and the lowland Roman polity in the neighboring Anti-Taurus Mountains of Isauria-Cilicia serves as an example. Shaw (1990:200) discusses power relations among these groups during the incipient period of

29 Roman rule, and notes that historically “a peculiar asymmetry of power…ebbed and flowed between the two zones.” For the Isaurians, the exaction of tribute unleashed highland offensives that, while successful initially, ultimately failed in defeating the Romans. Rome subsequently collapsed these mountain groups with the more peaceful coastal settlements into a single Roman province. For the Cilicians, a similar reaction to Roman taxation and domination may have culminated in piracy, although it may also have been a desperate attempt to preserve their lands that were quickly being absorbed into the Roman Empire.

Figure 2.1. Map of Southern Anatolia (Isauria-Cilicia), the Taurus and Anti-Taurus Mountains and the Adana Plain, or Flat Cilicia. Rough Cilicia is to the west.

Cross-cultural historical comparisons may be ineffective for interpreting cultural history. Graeber (2001:12) warns that the substantivist model fails to explain the motivation for action in society, and without a theory of motivation, “one is left with a picture of automatons mindlessly following whatever rules society lays down for them.” The question of motivation may be at the heart of an anthropological theory of value, and perhaps by attempting to determine the system of value established among Rough Cilicians within this substantivist model, the motivation for their actions may be discerned.

Theories of value. Gregory (1997) and Graeber (2001) outline theories of value to further elucidate modern conceptions of worth, motivation or action. Gregory

30 (1997:12) opens his discussion of value with a definition, stating that “values are those invisible chains that link relations between things to relations between people.” Values can then be descriptive (i.e. clarify processes of social reproduction) and prescriptive (i.e. guide courses of action). The descriptive element of value for ancient societies may be found in historical accounts or in the archaeological record, and may also be useful for constructing the more elusive prescriptive element of value in ancient society – attempting to explain motivations for action. Graeber defines value as a system of relations as well, but adopts elements of Marx’s materialist theories to elaborate what is central to his theory of value as manifest in creative action (2001:54). Creative action is akin to labor, though it can exist outside the market and is therefore not necessarily alienated from the wage-laborer. Because this theory of value operates outside of the capitalist system, it may more readily be applied to pre-capitalist societies. Though Gregory’s prescriptive model of value can be applied to any structure within society, in the case of the organization and success of the Cilician pirates, a theory of value applied to the reaction of the encroaching Roman political system may be most germane. By combining it with Graeber’s similar ideas of value as creative action, hypotheses of pirate actions, values and motivations may be constructed. The rebellious actions of the pirates are consistent with Gregory’s (1997:12) conception of the prescriptive value, or the “actions taken to transform a found chaos into a desired order.” These values that initiate such action must be socially agreed upon, and pursued through collective action. Collective action does not entail universal social acceptance, however, as the unanimous adoption of particular values can never exist because of the self-conscious nature of the way in which humans reproduce society (Gregory 1997:12-13; Graeber 2001:58). The communities of Rough Cilicia were small, socially isolated and culturally segregated agricultural villages, much like many societies that came to be controlled by the Roman Empire. For these agrarian societies, as Gregory (1997:71) sees it, land is often considered to be the supreme good, or supreme object in a particular class of objects that “often have little intrinsic value; but from the insider’s perspective, they are highly valued and this is manifested in the reverential way the objects are handled and the strong emotional reactions they evoke.” Land is inherited through generations, ancestors

31 are buried there, labor is invested in its upkeep and material expressions of culture are constructed upon it. Land is central to a society’s identity in this way, as is autonomy. Like most societies, land and autonomy were likely valued by Rough Cilicians as well. Because of the value placed on land and its status as a good, Gregory (1997:77-9) considers this an inalienable possession, or a good that must never be given away (or taken, presumably). This is similar to Godelier’s concept of the sacred object observed among the Baruya of New Guinea. Sacred objects cannot be alienated, and give the Baruya “an identity [which is rooted] in the Beginning, in the time of the (imaginary) order of things, the time when cosmic and social order was first established” (Godelier 1999:121). Land, viewed cross-culturally as an inalienable, sacred and supreme good, was likely a value in the descriptive sense among the Rough Cilicians. The hostile, piratical response to the Roman Empire’s appropriation of Rough Cilician land was likely viewed by the Cilicians as a noble act, so much so that “freedom fighters” may be a much more appropriate categorization for the “pirate” groups dubbed so by the Romans. Land most likely provided much of the motivation necessary for collective creative action, or prescriptive value, be it piracy or fighting for one’s freedom. Data gathered from the harbor at Antioch may be able to further illustrate concepts of value and large-scale cultural interaction. The archaeological assemblage found at Antioch is a footprint of Rough Cilician social activity; when interpreted in historical and anthropological contexts, the material remains provide additional evidence of social processes that occurred here. In particular, ceramic and anchor remains may provide dates of use and evidence for patterns of trade, manufacture and consumption. In this capacity, as in Marx’s philosophy of internal relations, Antioch may represent a microcosm of the larger, Eastern Mediterranean macroecology. Similarly, comparative studies of other ancient ports in the Eastern Mediterranean may further define Antioch’s position within these larger social systems.

Summary

This chapter has endeavored to explain, through the lens of substantivism and theories of large-scale interaction, reasons for the establishment and success of pirate

32 activity in Rough Cilicia. The success of the pirates was largely the result of interdependent factors initiated by Roman systems of colonization and strategies for pacification (principally taxation) as well as local, culturally prescribed systems of value and motivation. Significant, far-reaching historical events and political trends like Cilician piracy are better understood through adaptations of large-scale theories that interject interpretations of smaller-scale interrelated factors. Determinist thinking can be useful (and may be essential) to come to this idea of a purely dynamic reality, but carries with it inherent limitations to understanding that reality as well. Graeber refers to Roy Bhaskar’s critical realist approach as an effective way to view reality. His idea of an open system is a particularly valuable model in which “different sorts of mechanisms, derived from different emergent strata of reality” are operating at any time (Graeber 2001:52-3). But rather than be paralyzed by the impossibility of fully comprehending every element and relation of society, we should acknowledge its enormous complexity, and as Graeber believes, be humbled by it.

33 CHAPTER 3

ROUGH CILICIA ARCHAEOLOGICAL SURVEY PROJECT AND MARITIME SURVEY

Introduction

The Rough Cilicia Archaeological Survey Project (RCASP) is a continuing survey conducted annually since 1996. The project is multifaceted, with architects, classicists, historians, geographers and archaeologists participating and contributing toward a holistic representation of Rough Cilician life, particularly during the Hellenistic and early Roman periods. Nicholas Rauh, Michael Hoff, LuAnne Wandsnider and Matt Dillon are primary investigators and coordinators of the survey project, who over the years have collaborated with established researchers to investigate the culture history of Rough Cilicia. In 2004, Rauh provided all on-site coordination. A description of the RCASP and its goals, various projects and methodologies are included in this chapter, as well as a more detailed description of the methodology used, and the artifacts interpreted, in the maritime archaeological analysis of the harbor at Antioch.

Terrestrial Survey

The research priorities of 2004 included geoarchaeological and architectural surveys, along with establishment of the maritime survey. Pedestrian “prospective” surveys were conducted as well, focused primarily in the Kaledran Canyon and areas in the southeast region of the permit area. The geoarchaeological survey, directed by Martin Doyle, studied deforestation and the exploitation of cedar stands that were historically the region’s most desirable resource (Jones 1998:192).

34

Figure 3.1. Rough Cilicia Archaeological Survey Project area, 1996-1999 (RCASP).

Figure 3.2. Satellite map of 2004 surveyed areas (RCASP).

Both the Biçkici and Kaledran river valleys indicated periods of change that may be due to degradation or aggradation of the main channel that affects the transport capacity of

35 the river (Doyle 2004). Because tree felling affects erosion and sedimentation in the region, the study of sedimentation in the river valleys may provide indications of periods of intense logging or increases in trade, regional architectural construction or boat building. Rauh led the pedestrian survey, which primarily emphasized the collection of ceramic sherds for diachronic analyses and the location of architectural sites in the Kaledran region. Surveys included the Biçkici River, the ancient city of Charadros, the Kaledran Canyon vicinity, Hasdere Canyon, Bozkaya Mountain, the harbor of Kestros and the coastal ridge of Nephelion (Rauh 2004a). Significant finds included the remains of an ancient road, tower and those of a Roman/Byzantine fortress at Kaledran along with a Roman necropolis and several settlements, a defensive “cross-wall” at Kestros and mole that was possibly constructed for the entrance to the harbor at Charadros.

Surveys at Antioch The harbor at Antioch is the easternmost harbor surveyed during the 2004 summer season, and lies at the eastern periphery of the RCASP area. The harbor is nearest to modern Güney, a small agricultural town much like other surrounding coastal villages in Rough Cilicia. Antiochia ad Cragum is the Latin form of Antioch on the Kragos, referring to the ancient city perched on an imposing headland named the Kragos mountain in antiquity (Figure 3.3) and the neighboring Antikragos immediately east (Rauh et al. 2000:167). The harbor at Antioch is approximately 250,000 m2 and is one of few large, safe harbors along the coast between Alanya to the northwest and Selinus to the southeast. On the eastern side of the Antikragos are two coves, each large enough to fit one or two small ships. The easternmost cove sometimes experiences wave action which may limit boating and fishing activities. Dominating promontories provided a defensible position against invaders.

36

Figure 3.3. The fortified headland associated with Appian’s Kragos Mountain (RCMAP).

Terrestrial survey of Antioch. Archaeologists conducted a land survey at Antioch in the summer of 1997 (Rauh 1997b; Rauh et al. 2000:167; Rauh 2004a) with a particular emphasis on finding vestiges of pirate activity. The pottery found at the site is principally Byzantine from the tenth to twelfth centuries, with one sherd from the late Bronze Age, one from the Hellenistic period, and a few from the Roman and late Roman periods. Some evidence of pre-Roman habitation was found at the upper city at Antioch, but little evidence of pre-Roman occupation has survived at the fortress of the Antikragos, or at pirate’s cove, a hidden sea cove near the base of the Antikragos (Rauh et al. 2000:167). Similarly, no architectural remains from the pre-Roman period have been found at Antioch, though this lack of evidence could be because of later Roman and Byzantine construction that has obscured the archaeological record. Banana terracing along the coasts of Rough Cilicia also may have erased some of the evidence for earlier pirate occupations (Rauh et al. 2000:167-8).

37 Maritime Survey

The western harbor was the focus of the 2004 maritime survey and the focus of this survey report and harbor analysis. The entire anchorage at Antioch likely included a greater area. The survey team also conducted a preliminary survey of the waterway or corridor east of the surveyed harbor at Antioch near the small island of Çıpçıklıkaya. Divers found several shipping jars, one of which was recovered (AC 014), several large, iron Byzantine anchors and a lead anchor stock from the Hellenistic period. The immediate goal of the Antioch surveys was to locate and date artifacts in order to consider diachronic harbor usage. Only diagnostic artifacts were recovered, as well as those in need of closer analysis by archaeologists. The maritime survey was invaluable to the assessment of maritime and coastal activities as a part of the larger RCASP.

Figure 3.4. West harbor at Antioch, the primary summer 2004 survey area.

38 Physical layout of the harbor at Antioch. The imposing Taurus Mountains terminate at the shore, which is marked by steep bluffs and high promontories or buruns, many of which are several hundred meters high (Rauh et al. 2000:154). Much of the coastline of Rough Cilicia is rocky and with sparse vegetation, though in the past four decades local farmers constructed banana terraces from archaeological material and rocks, as evident in Figure 3.5 (Rauh et al. 2000:167-8).

Figure 3.5. The harbor at Antioch (RCMAP).

The west harbor at Antioch (Figure 3.5) is approximately 250,000 m2. Much of the eastern end of the harbor is sandy or gravely, with pockets of poseidon grass and small rocks (Figure 3.6). Closer to shore are a few large boulders, some of which have small anomalies that may be evidence for use as mooring stones. Between the eastern and central bays, the harbor is rockier, with many large boulders and denser patches of grass covering the sea-floor in the western end (Figure 3.7). Side-scan images of the sea-floor

39 (Figures 3.6 and 3.7) were acquired using Marine Sonic Technology 6.0 PC Review software, transferred to Adobe Photoshop 7.0 for display purposes.

Figure 3.6. Side-scan image from Antioch Figure 3.7. Side-scan image showing harbor, typical of the eastern region with areas typical of the central and sand, poseidon grass and small rocks western regions of Antioch harbor - (RCMAP). very rocky with some large boulders and grassy patches (RCMAP).

Maritime Survey Methods

The survey incorporated inspection by both snorkel and diving teams in each of the survey areas, as well as extensive side-scan sonar surveys from Iotape in the northwest to Antioch in the southeast. Maximum depth reached 25 m with excellent visibility, allowing for preliminary snorkel surveys that were valuable in locating artifacts and assessing the spatial composition of the harbors. Once surveyors located an artifact, they tied buoys with numbered flags to small weights to mark artifact positions above

40 water. GPS coordinates were noted for inclusion into a satellite map with exact artifact locations. Team members also measured, noted, sketched and photographed unrecovered artifacts underwater, and compiled this data into the team’s field notebook. Divers conducted artifact recovery using net bags, baskets and lifting bags. Buckets and containers filled with seawater were ready on the boat deck for the immediate submersion of artifacts to protect them from drying and cracking. Surveyors also found a few organic samples, including a pitch lining on shipping jar sherds. Dr. Hulya Caner, palynologist associated with the RCASP, received the organic samples for analysis.

Shipping Jars Shipping jars, or transport amphoras, are some of the most useful indicators of ancient social and cultural activity for several reasons. Unlike other ceramic materials, shipping jars are good indices of commerce, patterns of trade and trade organization (Jones 1986: 839; Lawall 1998:76-7) and can be used to examine economic and political activity and change on multiple scales (Lawall 1998:77; Rauh 1999:172-3). Because these jars often contained bulk items that were consumed by the vast majority of the population (Garlan 1983:27), the trade and transport of these shipping jars can be indicative of systems of consumption by the lower and middle classes as well as the elites. Shipping jars can also tell us how materials were stored and transported and oftentimes traces of the actual materials themselves are preserved. Pitches primarily made of the sap of pine trees are often found in ancient jars. These pitch layers were used to season and preserve wine (Jones 1986:841) as well as to coat the interior of the jar to prevent seepage through the porous ceramic material. Tannins from plant pigments (Jones 1986:842), lipids (Jones 1986:842) and other organic remains found in shipping jars are useful indicators of the materials being shipped (Garlan 1983:27). These jars are also very durable, preserve well in many environments and are easy to identify in archaeological surveys and excavations (Garlan 1983:27; Jones 1986:839-40; Lawall 1998:76).

41 Despite these advantages, there are a number of problems with the use of shipping jars as indicators of trade. Differences in quality of production (Garlan 1983:28-9) can result in disproportional representations of identifying features of particular shipping jars in the archaeological record. Jones (1986:840) argues that the largely unrepresentative distribution and preservation of shipping jars can only direct us toward generalizations of ancient trade and may in the process lead us in the wrong direction. Many researchers agree that the most useful way to interpret archaeological data from shipping jars is to understand them in light of social, cultural and historical contexts (Garlan 1983:29; Arthur 1998:161, 172-5; Lawall 1998:95-6). A more comprehensive interpretation of history can be achieved through the closer collaboration of anthropologists, classicists and historians (Garlan 1983:29). Several types of shipping jars are represented among the artifacts from the summer 2004 maritime survey. Some broken jars and sherds were recovered and cataloged, but many were not because heavy concretion cemented them to boulders, to other shipping jars and to the sea floor. Those jars that were recovered are the only ones analyzed in this study, although several concentrations of ceramics and shipping jars that could not be recovered are noted as positive evidence of trade operating within the harbor.

Anchors An assemblage of anchors may also serve as evidence of cultural activity in several ways. The presence of anchors first and foremost indicates that watercraft used the harbor. Ships’ anchors were vital necessities, leading some to consider them “the most important resource on a merchant vessel” (Kingsley 2004:81). Because all ships used anchors, there is an abundance of anchors from all time periods lying on the sea floor, providing numerous opportunities to construct chronologies helpful in the interpretation of ancient shipping. Anchors are durable and can be dated by their technological features and composition, and may also contribute to the evaluation of cultural affiliations and ship size. Using shipwreck evidence and associated anchor types that span millennia, Kingsley (2004:81-2) summarizes the evolution of anchor types from the “poor man’s”

42 stone anchor (2004:82) to the Y-shaped iron anchor typical of the early eleventh-century. Kapitän’s (1984) classification of ancient anchors follows a similar evolutionary line, beginning with the various adaptations of stone and wooden anchors and ending with the principal iron anchor designs with removable stocks. At Antioch, evidence for shipping is represented by artifacts from each of these three anchor categories.

Stone anchors1. A stone anchor is a stone weight used to anchor a boat. Similarly constructed stone objects may also have been used to weigh down fishing nets (net weights), anchor lines (line weights), or as olive or grape press weights. Net weights (Figures 3.8 and 3.9) sometimes resemble stone anchors, but distinctions between the two types lie in their size (less than 0.40 m length, 0.10 m thickness) and weight (under 25 kg).

Figure 3.8. Stone net weight Figure 3.9. Stone net weight from Dor, Israel (Kingsley from Dor, Israel (Kingsley and Raveh 1996: Plate 38). and Raveh 1996: Plate 38).

Many net weights also are of irregular shape (Figure 3.8) or with large, centrally placed holes (Figure 3.9). These net weights, Kingsley and Raveh (1996:31) suggest, may be evidence for a “vibrant fishing community throughout its history.” Line weights may be identified by presence of two cylindrical holes through which an anchor line was passed. Some anchors, however, were constructed with two cylindrical holes as well, often one for rope attachment and the other to lodge a pointed wooden plug (Kapitän 1984:34-35; Figure 3.10).

1 All pierced stone objects are referred to as stone anchors because of traditional scholarly practice, not because they have been positively identified as anchors. It is often difficult to determine specific use.

43

Figure 3.10. Kapitän’s proposed evolution of ancient stone or stone and wood anchors. Numbers 1-7, 10 and 11 are sketches of reconstructed anchors or those found in archaeological and ethnographical contexts, while number 8 is hypothetical (Kapitän 1984:34).

On land, similarly constructed stone objects were used for other activities, particularly as press weights in olive oil production (Frankel 1997:74). Olive crushers operated with these large, round stones fitted on a shaft (Figure 3.11a, b), many of which closely resemble stone anchors. Because a number of architectural elements and even a larnake were found in the harbor, it is possible that like these terrestrial-use objects, press weights may have tumbled into the harbor. It is, however, more likely that any press weights found in the harbor represent their use as weights or anchors. Press weights seem to have smaller diameter holes than anchors (Figure 3.11b).

44 Stone anchors are identified principally by a presence of one or more holes through which a rope was attached. There is a wide range of sizes and types of stone anchors evident in the harbor at Antioch, contributing to considerable ambiguity that exists for their intended use and function. These anchors are clearly manufactured, as all have holes (most of which are positioned in a regular, proportional fashion), many have regular shapes, and several are similar to other stone anchors found by archaeologists within the region in similar contexts (Evrin et al. 2002:254-267). No stone anchors were recovered, but those that surveyors found were sketched, measured and recorded in the field notebook. A more comprehensive analysis of the stone anchor assemblage can be found in the following chapter and appendix C.

a)

b)

Figure 3.11. a) Stone weights used in an olive press, similarly constructed to stone anchors found in the harbor at Antioch (Frankel 1997:74-77). 3.11b). Stone weights used in an olive press, from the Alanya Museum (RCMAP).

45 Stone anchors are popularly called the poor man’s anchor, named so because “ships owned by impoverished sea captains might be forced to revert to the poor man’s substitute, an elementary stone version with a single hole through which the ship’s rope was passed” (Kingsley 2004:82). Stone anchors were not all constructed in an elementary fashion, as evident by the large stone anchors used on the Late Bronze Age ship at Uluburun in Southern Turkey (Pulak 1998:216), and those in excess of 60 kg (and up to 132 kg) found at the ancient harbor at Dor, Israel (Kingsley and Raveh 1996:31) and at Newe-Yam, Israel (Galili 1985:143-153). Dates for stone anchor use are speculative for several reasons. Stone anchors are the only positive evidence archaeologists have for anchor use in early periods of shipping, though this does not exclude the possibility of other forms of anchors used at this time. Though various dates have been assigned to bookend stone anchor use (2300/1800 BCE – 700 CE/800 CE), it is likely that stone anchors were in use long before the earliest date assigned and are still in use today (Kingsley and Raveh 1996:81; Kingsley 2004:82). In fact, during the 2004 season, fishermen were seen using stone net weights in one of the harbors along the Rough Cilician coast. Stone anchors may be fashioned and used (and reused) in situations that do not allow for meticulous manufacture following a particular form or style (Kingsley and Raveh 1996:92; Grossman 2001:108). Haldane (1990:20) notes that stone anchors were likely used in concert with later wooden and iron anchors. Honor Frost (1982) is credited with bringing the study of stone anchors and their usefulness towards dating archaeological sites to maritime archaeology (Kingsley and Raveh 1996:88). Her belief that stone anchors were the “potsherds of marine archaeology” caused many archaeologists to react with caution and skepticism to her ideas, what they believed to be “sweeping generalizations” that began to “pepper the literature” (Kingsley and Raveh 1996:88). Among the problems Kingsley and Raveh define with the comparison to pottery is the lack of sophisticated typologies rooted in extensive fieldwork (1996:88), inherent differences in the mediums of clay and stone (1996:89), and the limited range of schemes on which stone anchors can be distinguished, compared to pottery types (1996:89).

46 Stone anchors are the most common type of anchor found in the harbor at Antioch and unfortunately, may tell us the least about shipping and trade (Kingsley and Raveh 1996:87). This is a point of contention among some nautical archaeologists (Evrin et al. 2002:254-67), who argue that structural or stylistic patterns and lithic sourcing of stone anchors can be used to determine places of manufacture and possible trade routes. In an examination of Mediterranean stone anchors used in the Cilician region and other areas further east, Evrin and colleagues (2002:265-6) determined that stone anchors in the eastern Mediterranean were principally made of sedimentary rock, rather than the volcanic and metamorphic types used more regularly in Europe. The shapes and characteristic features of these stone anchors from the coast of Anatolia were also similar to those of the rest of the Eastern Mediterranean (Grossman 2001:108-10; Evrin et al. 2002:266).

Wooden anchors. Stone anchors were replaced by wooden anchors with stocks made of stone, followed by wooden anchors with lead stocks and collars. The latter type was used primarily from 150 BCE to 300 CE (Kingsley and Raveh 1996:81; Kingsley 2004:82; Haldane 1984:3-4). Because wooden anchors do not preserve as well as stone and iron types, it was not until the 1920s, when a wooden anchor was discovered in association with one of Caligula’s Lake Nemi shipwrecks, that wooden anchor construction was able to be studied (Haldane 1990:21). Lead anchor stocks and collars are often the only remains of wooden anchors found in the archaeological record. Haldane (1984:3-4; 1990:21) created a typology (Figure 3.12) using four stock types in wooden anchors: Type I of stone, Type II with lead cores, Type III of lead, and Type IV with removable lead stocks. The type of stock used seems to be partially dependent on the region (western or eastern Mediterranean), time period, or ship size, though no clear, established distinctions have been made to associate stock type with particular cultural groups (Haldane 1990:22).

47

Figure 3.12. Wooden anchor types from Haldane’s typology: the Type I anchor stock made of stone, Type II with lead cores, Type III made of lead and Type IV with removable lead stocks (Haldane 1984:4).

Figure 3.13. Model of a Type III wooden anchor with a) lead stock and b) lead collar (RCMAP).

At Antioch, archaeologists recovered two lead anchor stocks and one lead anchor collar (WA2, WA4 and WA1), but were unable to recover another heavily concreted lead anchor stock (WA3). Surveyors took GPS points of the numbered buoys associated with the lead artifacts and divers raised the artifacts using lifting bags attached to a plastic crate (Figure 3.14) after underwater photographs of the lead stocks and collars in their original context were taken.

48

Figure 3.14. Archaeologists recovering lead artifacts with a lifting bag (RCMAP).

Iron anchors. After the fourth century CE, iron anchors are the most popular anchor type. The increasing angle between the shaft and the arms among iron anchors over time provides a general basis for a chronology of anchor use. Beginning with the Roman Republican period, iron anchors with V-shaped arms were used (Figure 3.15), followed by bow-shaped anchors in the first and second centuries CE (Kapitän 1984; Kingsley 2004:81).

Figure 3.15. Evolution of iron anchor types (after Kapitän 1984:43).

49 The T-shaped or cruciform anchor (Figures 3.15 and 3.16) is widely used by the seventh-century (van Doorninck 1982a:141-2) as evident by the anchors associated with the Yassıada shipwreck. But anchors found in association with the Dramont F shipwreck near Var, France, suggest that this anchor type, or perhaps one with a slightly more decreased angle was in use much earlier, by the mid fifth or fourth centuries CE, (Joncheray 1975:116; Kapitän 1984:42-3; Kingsley 2004:81; van Doorninck 1982a:141). Similarly constructed T-shaped iron anchors were found at the Black Sea port of Tomis in Romania, dated to the sixth century CE (van Doorninck 1982a:141).

Figure 3.16. Iron anchors in different contexts: encased in wood, as typically used; drawing of a T-shaped iron anchor from the seventh-century shipwreck at Yassıada (van Doorninck 1982a:129); and a concreted T-shaped anchor found in the harbor at Antioch (RCMAP).

By the eleventh century CE the Y-shaped iron anchor (Figure 3.15 and Figure 3.18) was used, named for the obtuse angle of the arms to the shank (Kingsley 2004:82). The best examples of these anchors found so far are from the eleventh-century Serçe Limanı shipwreck in Southern Turkey. Nine Y-shaped anchors were found on this shipwreck, and their locations in the context of the wreck site give archaeologists clues to the arrangement of anchors stored on a ship (Figure 3.17) (van Doorninck 2004a:204, 228).

50

Figure 3.17. Location and arrangement of Y-shaped iron anchors aboard the eleventh- century shipwreck at Serçe Limanı (van Doorninck 2004a:228).

Figure 3.18. Y-shaped iron anchor Figure 3.19. Iron grapnel anchor from the harbor at Antioch from the harbor at Antioch (RCMAP). (RCMAP).

Archaeologists are unsure of the impetus for change in design of these iron anchors, though it seems that an increase in the angle of the arms to the shank allowed for easier loosening and recovery of anchors on the seabed (Kingsley 2004:82). Some have

51 proposed that the T-shaped anchor was instead in homage to Christ (Kingsley 2004:81). The iron grapnel anchor type (Figure 3.15 and Figure 3.19), the most recent type found in the harbor at Antioch, is found on many medieval to early modern shipwrecks and is still used today (van Doorninck 1982a:141). Anchors are constructed in several ways over time for different purposes. The variety of iron anchors found at the harbor at Antioch shows this change in construction, and may also suggest different uses, perhaps for different marine environments. In general, both iron and wooden anchors have a shank, the long, vertical shaft that attaches perpendicularly to the stock at one end and the arms at the other. Anchor arms chiefly serve to catch onto marine growth or rocks on the seafloor, while the stock serves to provide weight for setting (Steffy 1982:142). Loss of anchors may have been fairly common, as evident by the number of iron anchors found in the harbor. Partially because of anchor loss, and partially to act as ballast, ships carried many anchors on a voyage. The seventh-century ship at Yassıada, for example, wrecked with 11 iron anchors aboard (van Doorninck 1982a:137; Steffy 1994:80). The concretions of iron anchors found in the harbor at Antioch are divided into five types: V-shaped, bow-shaped, T-shaped, Y-shaped and grapnel anchors. A sixth category is added to the five types for undetermined iron anchor remains. Because of their size and heavy concretions, no iron anchors were recovered from the harbor. Surveyors noted GPS points and sketched, photographed and measured each anchor for inclusion into the field notebook.

Summary

In this chapter, I introduced both the RCASP and RCMAP, two surveys joined in a collaborative effort to gain a regional understanding of Rough Cilician culture history. The terrestrial and maritime surveys are two important, complementary elements necessary for a holistic examination of cultural interaction in a maritime society such as that based at Antioch. Much of the information gleaned from the maritime survey is not easily understood out of the context established by the terrestrial survey, and without the maritime data, any interpretation of cultural relations is incomplete. The two work in

52 concert to attempt to understand the social complexity of Antioch and Rough Cilicia. Maritime survey methodology and this work’s focus on shipping jars and anchors are linked to the history of shipping jar and anchor interpretations and an explanation of the artifacts’ role as indicators of trade and interaction. Data gathered throughout the maritime survey may be used to address the question of piracy at Antioch, and constitute the core of material evidence used in an analysis of systems of interaction operating at Antioch. After a detailed description of survey finds in the next chapter, analyses of these systems will then be interpreted using the connectivity model, to extrapolate Antioch’s role within systems of a larger scale in the Eastern Mediterranean.

53 CHAPTER 4

PROJECT DATA, ARTIFACT IDENTIFICATION AND ANALYSIS

Introduction

Archaeological anthropology uses material remains to test theories of cultural processes and behavior, often without the aid of historical or textual evidence. References to Rough Cilicia or the Cilician pirates are particularly rare in historical documents. Archaeological survey and artifact recovery and analysis are the greatest opportunities for scientists and historians to learn of this historically significant culture. The artifacts found in the maritime survey, many of which were well preserved for millennia underwater, add additional depth to the ongoing terrestrial survey by including more information to the maritime culture extant in region. Because of the emphasis placed on pirate occupation throughout this thesis, particular attention is given to artifacts that may represent pirate activities, though the majority of diagnostic artifacts indicate later occupation, principally during and after the Byzantine period. Ceramic remains and anchors are evidence of shipping activity and cultural interaction, and for many reasons are the focus of this artifact analysis and interpretation. All artifacts within these categories are represented in this chapter, however, regardless of their diagnostic applications, date or material.

Artifacts Used in Analysis

The artifacts best used for the determination of harbor use are the stone anchors, iron and wooden anchors and shipping jar remains. These artifacts are the most abundant found in the Antioch assemblage, comprising approximately 99% of the total sample (Figure 4.2). Relative to other artifact categories, these remains appear more frequently throughout the Mediterranean as well, and their abundance provides a useful measure for dating and tracking systems of trade and transport in the region. Many scholars of ancient

54 trade and maritime culture such as Avshalom Zemer (1978), Gerhard Kapitän (1984) and Patricia Sibella (2002) have created typologies of anchor and shipping jar remains, and from these typologies archaeologists seek to discern, for example, trade patterns and social trends in particular regions. Because of the number and variety of artifacts found in the summer 2004 survey, I will only use shipping jars and anchors as primary data sources for this analysis of harbor usage.

Figure 4.1. GIS map of the harbor at Antioch, including artifact locations and associated marker buoys (RCMAP).

Shipping jars or transport amphoras are perhaps the most readily cataloged, likely because a large quantity of remains is evident in both Mediterranean terrestrial and underwater landscapes. Mediterranean scholars have used these jars to create chronological typologies of use, origin, production and consumption, which can then be used to elucidate systems of trade in multiple contexts. Anchor data are used in similar

55 ways, and may also be useful in suggesting ship size and function. Information gleaned from stone anchors is probably the most difficult to apply to larger social systems, as these artifacts are used in many different ways over long periods of time.

Figure 4.2. Map of artifact distributions and associated dates.

56

Figure 4.3. Enclosed areas in the artifact distribution Figure 4.4. Artifact and lot map correspond to west, central and east bays. numbers in the eastern bay.

Figure 4.5. Artifact and lot numbers in the western Figure 4.6. Artifact and lot bay bay. numbers in the central bay.

Ceramic Assemblage

The vast majority of ceramic remains RCMAP archaeologists found and recovered were shipping jar sherds, but also included ceramic tile pieces, coarseware sherds and cookware. Ceramic remains were catalogued according to lot numbers taken

57 from buoy numbers established at the site. Marker buoy 006, for example, indicated an aggregation of ceramic artifacts in the water, some of which archaeologists recovered as lot 006. Archaeologists measured each artifact’s maximum height, width, thickness and diameter when available, provided a rough sketch and indicated any diagnostic features such as combing or decoration, or any handles, mouths and toes that were present. Color and texture of the fabric, using a Munsell color chart and estimated frequency of inclusions in the clay, were also noted and included in the artifact catalog, located in Appendix A.

Shipping jars. Shipping jar sherds are identified as such by diagnostic features of handles, necks, mouths, toes and other jar parts, size and thickness, curvature (which may indicate whole size), combing or ridging and pitch, resin or other organic residues. Quality in production may also be considered, including evidence of construction for utilitarian use. Shipping jar sherds represented the majority of recovered ceramic artifacts in the harbor. The harbor yielded 36 shipping jar sherds from 12 different lots (of 39 total ceramic artifacts, 92% of sample). Sherds from six shipping jar lots were not recovered, three from the central bay and three from the western bay. Of the 36 shipping jar sherds, 32 sherds were recovered from the eastern bay (89%), two from between the eastern and central bays (5.5%), two from the central bay (5.5%) and none from the western bay (0%). Five of the eight diagnostic ceramic sherds came from the eastern bay, including C1, C2, C5, C6 and C7; two from the central bay, C3 and C4; and one from between the eastern and central bays, C8. The majority of shipping jar sherds recovered are non-diagnostic body sherds (28 sherds, 78% of sample), several of which have traces of pitch (11 sherds, 31% of sample) particularly sought out because of their diagnostic potential. Nineteen body sherds have combing or ridging (53%). Six sherds are handles or handle fragments (17%), four sherds are shoulder pieces (11%) and five sherds are mouth or rim fragments (14%). Twenty- five of the sherds measured are longer than ten cm in height or width (69%) and eight are longer than 0.20 m (21%). The largest sherd measured (C9) is 0.457 m in height and 0.225 m in width.

58 Cookware. Cookware sherds were identified by size, thickness, shape, a light, fine fabric and potential presence of carbon residue. Archaeologists found one cookware sherd (C40) with a heavy carbon layer on the exterior in the eastern bay.

Coarseware. Coarseware sherds may be identified by size, thickness, shape, light fabric, decoration or extant glaze. Archaeologists found one small, red coarseware sherd (C41) in the eastern bay.

Tiling. Tile pieces may be identified by regular size (often square), thickness, rough, gritty fabric and dark orangish-red coloring. Archaeologists found one ceramic tile piece (C42) in the eastern bay.

Ceramic scatter areas. Surveyors identified six ceramic scatter areas defined by dense aggregations of sherds with heavy concretion. One defined area (lot 80) had several aggregation sites within 7-8 meters. Many sherds appeared to be large shipping jar body fragments, some were handle and neck pieces, but no diagnostic sherds were recovered. Three scatter areas (lots 80, 81 and 99) are located in the western bay and three (lots 75, 83 and 128) are located in the central bay.

Anchor Assemblage

Stone anchors, the lead components of wooden anchors and iron anchors are another abundant source of information about the harbor at Antioch. Like the ceramic remains, the anchors located by archaeologists were marked with buoys and later assigned corresponding lot numbers for cataloging purposes. Anchors were measured, sketched and documented to allow characteristic features to be compared with other published anchor types for identification purposes. When available, measurements included the approximate angle of the arms to the shank and the length and diameter of all anchor parts. Lead remains of wooden anchors, such as collars and stocks, were recovered for further analysis because of their rarity. Details of each anchor are provided in the catalog in Appendices B and C.

59 Stone anchors. I divided these anchors into five types, classified by size, shape, hole placement and size, and other characteristics (Table 1).

Table 1. Stone anchor types and descriptions. Type Description

I Large size, long, irregular shape. Single hole at one end. II Oblong with pierced, tapered end. III Medium - small size, centrally-placed holes. IV Small size, rounded body and distinctly small holes. V Large size, two holes.

Eight stone anchors are included in the Type I classification (S1 – S8). These anchors are characterized principally by their relatively large size, having the longest average length (0.56 m). Many are irregularly shaped, but all are oblong, rectangular, or long and triangular. Two of these anchors are in the eastern bay, three between the eastern and central bays, two in the central bay and one in the western bay. The Type II classification includes four (S9 – S12) moderately large stone anchors (average length 0.47 m). One anchor (S9) exhibits a regular shape, while the others appear irregular in shape with curves (S10, S12) and seemingly extraneous projections (S11). All four of these anchors are located in the eastern bay. Type III stone anchors (S13 – S15) are characterized by their centrally-placed holes and similar size. Each anchor is within a few centimeters of the average length of 0.35 m. These anchors differ mostly in shape: one is rounded (S13), one somewhat oblong (S14) and one appears triangular (S15). All three were found in the eastern bay. Three anchors (S16 – S17) are classified as Type IV stone anchors, all of which are located in the central bay. These anchors are the smallest of the five types, with an average length of 0.3 m, and have distinctively small holes, between 0.02 and 0.04 m in diameter. Two anchors (S16 and S17) are nearly the same size and shape, with small, rounded bodies and similarly positioned holes. S18 is somewhat different because of its half-moon shape and a second hole in the center. This two-holed anchor is different from the Type V anchor because the holes are so closely arranged.

60 Table 2. Stone anchor types, descriptions and locations within the harbor. Measurements (l.=length, w.=width, Catalog # Type Location Description th.=thickness) S1 I E bay rectangular body, irregularly shaped hole l. 0.53; w. 0.36; th. 0.05; hole diam. 0.175 x 0.05 S2 I E bay long, triangular body l. 0.48; w. 0.41; th. 0.14; hole diam. 0.10 S3 I C bay irregular shape l. 0.47; w. 0.28; th. 0.09; hole diam. 0.135 S4 I E/C bay long, irregular shape l. 0.61; w. 0.28; th. 0.09; hole diam. 0.011 S5 I E/C bay long, irregular shape l. 0.70; w. 0.43; hole diam. 0.14 S6 I E/C bay long, triangular body l. 0.49; w. 0.39; hole diam. 0.09 S7 I C bay long, triangular body 0.73x0.66x0.53; th. 0.20 S8 I W bay long, rectangular body l. 0.50; w. 0.34; hole diam. 0.15 S9 II E bay oblong, tapered end with hole l. 0.54; w. 0.33; th. 0.12; hole diam. 0.1 S10 II E bay oblong, irregularly shaped body l. 0.40; w. 0.20; th. 0.12; hole diam. 0.08 S11 II E bay oblong, irregularly shaped body l. 0.37; w. 0.22; hole diam. 0.045 S12 II E bay long, irregularly shaped body l. 0.55; w. 0.48; th. 0.21; hole diam. 0.11 S13 III E bay round; centrally placed hole l. 0.37; w. 0.33; th. 0.07; hole diam. 0.05 S14 III E bay oblong; large, centrally placed hole l. 0.35; w. 0.27; th. 0.16; hole diam. 0.13 S15 III E bay triangular body; large, centrally placed hole l. 0.34; w. 0.38; th. 0.17; hole diam. 0.10 S16 IV C bay small, rounded body; small hole l. 0.30; w. 0.24; hole diam. 0.04 S17 IV C bay small, rounded body; small hole l. 0.35; w. 0.21; hole diam. 0.03 S18 IV C bay small, squat body, 2 small holes l. 0.25; w. 0.13; hole diam. 0.02; 0.03 S19 V E bay 2 holes l. 0.50; w. 0.36; th. 0.06; hole diam. 0.05, 0.04 S20 V E bay 2 holes l. 0.49; w. 0.33; th. 0.09; hole diam. 0.07; 0.10 S21 V E bay 2 holes no data

The Type V anchors (S19 – S21) are rectangular in shape with two cylindrical- shaped holes ranging from 0.04 to 0.10 m in diameter, positioned at opposite ends. They are also the second largest group of anchors, with an average length of 0.49 m and were all found in the eastern bay.

Wooden anchors. In the harbor, archaeologists found two Haldane Type IVA lead stocks and one variant, and one lead collar, all from the western bay. Each stock has a stop (a raised lead ledge that abuts a wooden shank), and WA1 (Figures 4.7 and B19, p. 118) and WA3 (Figure B22, p. 119) have two small holes, one in the center and near one end. WA2 (Figures 4.8; 4.18, p. 71; B20 and B21, p. 119) only has a single central hole and a clearly defined stop. This variant is not represented in Haldane’s typology. WA3 could not be recovered because it was concreted to the rock. Lead collar WA4 (Figures 4.18, p. 71; B21, B23 and B24, p. 119) has three holes to accommodate the wooden shank and arms that once fit through them (Figure 3.13, p. 48). It was found in direct association with one of the lead stocks (WA2) and is likely part of the same anchor.

61

Figure 4.7. WA1, Type IVA lead stock with Figure 4.8. WA2, Type IV lead stock two holes and stop; maximum length is 0.75 with one hole and stop; maximum m (RCMAP). length is 0.63 m (RCMAP).

Iron anchors. Twenty iron anchors and anchor fragments were found and documented in the harbor from 16 lots. Of the 20, 16 were identifiable as to type. One is V-shaped (6% of the identifiable sample), one is bow-shaped (6%), seven are T-shaped (44%), one is Y-shaped (6%), and six are grapnel (38%). Nine of the total 20 artifacts (45%) were located in the eastern bay: one V-shaped (11% of bay sample), six T-shaped (67%), one grapnel (11%), and one undetermined (11%). Two anchors (10%) were located in the central bay: one grapnel (50%) and one undetermined (50%). Nine anchors (45%) were found in the western bay: one bow-shaped (11%), one T-shaped (11%), four grapnel anchors (44%) and two undetermined (22%).

Table 3. Iron anchor types, locations and measurements found in the harbor at Antioch. Measurements (l.=length, Catalog # Artifact Location w.=width, th.=thickness) IA1 V-shaped anchor stock with ring, arm E bay l. 1.21; arm l. 0.29; shank w. 0.1 IA2 Bow - shaped anchor W bay l. 1.15; w. 0.39 IA3 T- shaped anchor and mortar E bay l. 0.94; w. 0.62 IA4 T-shaped anchor with ring E bay l. 1.86; w. 1.18 IA5 T-shaped anchor E bay l. 2.1; arm l. 0.28 IA6 T - shaped anchor E bay l. 0.82; w. 0.42 IA7 T-shaped iron anchor shank E bay l. 1.25; w. 0.76 IA8 T-shaped anchor with ring E bay l. 1.53 IA9 T-shaped anchor W bay l. 1.12; w. 0.65 IA10 Y-shaped anchor W bay l. 1.15; w. 1.18 IA11 grapnel anchor E bay l. 0.78; w. 0.51 IA12 broken grapnel anchor W bay l. 1.10; arm l. 0.60 IA13 grapnel anchor W bay l. 1.72; w. 0. 90 IA14 grapnel anchor W bay l. 1.18; w. 0.50 IA15 grapnel anchor W bay l. 1.12; w. 0.65 IA16 grapnel anchor C bay l. 0.83 IA17 iron anchor stock C bay l. 0.67 IA18 iron anchor shank fragment E bay no data IA19 broken iron shank W bay l. 0.73; w. 0.10 IA20 iron anchor shank fragment W bay l. 0.54; w. 0.07; th. 0.04

62 Identification and Analysis of Ceramic and Anchor Assemblages

Analysis of Ceramic Assemblage Most shipping jars were used to transport bulk goods, such as wine, olive oil, fish products and fruits throughout the Mediterranean. Some larger shipping jars, called pithoi, transported larger items, such as fine ceramic ware and other material goods. Shipping jars were typically stacked in layers in the hull of a ship, fit strategically between other jars to limit movement and often cushioned with plant material to act as dunnage (Alpözen et al. 1995:18; Haldane (Ward) 1993:349). When these jars are discarded or lost in the harbor because they are, for example, dropped or trapped in a shipwreck, they carry with them information of trade systems and interaction. These systems may begin to become clear during the process of artifact analysis and interpretation. Ceramic data acquired in the harbor may be analyzed using artifact typologies created by scholars of ancient shipping and trade. By comparing diagnostic features of the Antioch artifacts with artifacts from established typologies, estimated dates and locations of manufacture of Antioch artifacts can be discerned. For this analytical comparison, I used illustrations, descriptions and photographs of established shipping jar types with those from the RCMAP catalog. Similarities in shape, construction and size were principal characteristics used to determine jar type. Features like handles, shoulder pieces, necks, mouths and toes are particularly diagnostic. The majority of ceramic remains and all of the diagnostic ceramic artifacts are shipping jar sherds. While the inclusion of all ceramic artifacts is necessary for a comprehensive analysis and interpretation of the harbor, the emphasis in this section is primarily placed on shipping jar sherds.

Hellenistic shipping jars. The only shipping jar from the Hellenistic period (C1, Figure 4.9 and 4.10) is likely of Italian origin, dated to the late second century or early first century BCE. Similar jars found on the c. 80-50 BCE shipwreck D at the Skerki Bank between Sicily and Tunisia in the Tyrrhenian sea are identified as Lamboglia 2 or Will Type 10 shipping jars. This jar is dated from the end of the second century BCE

63 (McCann and Oleson 2004:63-64). The jar found at Antioch is lined with pitch, characteristic of ancient wine containers rather than of vessels carrying oil. It possibly originated in the Istrian peninsula and the northern Adriatic and was distributed throughout the western Mediterranean and Aegean (McCann and Oleson 2004:63).

Figure 4.9. C1, upper body fragment of a tentatively identified Will Type 10 shipping jar (RCMAP).

Figure 4.10. C1, interior of a body fragment lined with pitch (RCMAP).

64 Table 4. Tentative identification of diagnostic shipping jar remains. Harbor Catalog # Type Date Origin Location Lamboglia 2/Will Type C1 10 2nd - 1st c. BCE Istrian peninsula6 East C2 Zemer 41 2nd - 3rd c. CE Cilicia2 North Africa1 East C3 LRA 1 4th - 7th c. CE Asia Minor4,5 East/Central C4 Syrian-Palestinian 67 4th - 6th c. CE Gaza1,3 East/Central C5 Syrian-Palestinian 66 4th - 6th c. CE Gaza1 East C6 Zemer 41 2nd - 3rd c. CE Cilicia2 North Africa1 East C7 Syrian-Palestinian 67 4th - 6th c. CE Gaza1 East C8 Rhodian 95 early 2nd c. CE Rhodes1 East/Central Sources: (1) Alpözen et al. 1995 (2) Rauh et al. 2000 (3) Zemer 1978 (4) Sibella 2002 (5) van Alfen 1996 (6) McCann and Oleson 2004 (7) Rosloff 1981.

Roman shipping jars. Three shipping jars from this time period were identified, a Rhodian wine container (C8, Figure 4.11), and two locally produced Zemer 41 pinch handle jars (C2, Figure 4.12; C6, Figure 4.13; Figure 4.14). Wine was historically a principal export of Rhodes (Rauh 1999; Lund 1999) and the Rhodian jar has been found throughout the Mediterranean and Aegean, particularly in Italy, Greece and Turkey (Alpözen et al. 1995:95).

Figure 4.11. C8, Rhodian Figure 4.12. C2, locally produced Zemer shipping jar handle and mouth 41 pinch handle jar (RCMAP). fragment (RCMAP).

65

Figure 4.13. C6, locally produced Figure 4.14. Zemer 41 pinch Zemer 41 pinch handle shipping jar handle shipping jar; maximum toe; maximum length is 0.10 m (RCMAP). length is 0.75 m (Zemer 1978:52-53).

In 1978, Zemer linked the Zemer 41 type to North Africa (Zemer 1978:52-3; Alpözen et al. 1995:75), but Rauh et al. (2000:169) claim that it was produced locally, potentially in one of the few kiln sites found during recent terrestrial surveys of the Rough Cilician coast. Distribution is largely restricted to the eastern Mediterranean and Aegean (Alpözen et al. 1995:75) and, it is probably not from North Africa. Alpözen et al. (1995:95) describe the Rhodian jar as having a ring-shaped rim with a narrow mouth and long, narrow neck, with two “horned” handles and a sloping shoulder. When complete, the body is long and conical, and tapers from the shoulder to the pointed base. It has a reddish brown fabric and measures 0.84 in height and 0.25 in diameter. What remains of the Rhodian jar at Antioch is a handle and mouth fragment, which matches the characteristic horned handle, long, sloping shoulder and ring shaped mouth. The Zemer Type 41 jar, when whole, has a wheel-ridged, cylindrical body with a short neck with handles marked by deep longitudinal grooves on the neck and rounded shoulder (Zemer 1978:52-3). The toe is elongated, tapering to a slightly pointed,

66 mushroom-like cap designed for ease in pouring. The remains of a Zemer Type 41 jar from Antioch, C2, correspond with the description of the short neck and rounded shoulder, while the C6, a toe from another Zemer 41 jar, is similarly elongated with a mushroom-like cap.

Late Antique shipping jars. The remainder of the jars found in the harbor with identifying characteristics date to the Late Antique and early Byzantine periods (de Souza

Figure 4.15. C7 (top) Figure 4.16. C4, upper body and handle of and C5, handles of a Syro-Palestinian shipping jar (RCMAP). Syro-Palestinian shipping jars (RCMAP).

1999:225). Three of the four jars (C5 and C7, Figure 4.15, and C4, Figure 4.16) are likely from the Syro-Palestinian region, and date from the fourth to sixth centuries CE (Alpözen et al. 1995:66-7). These types were distributed throughout the southeastern Mediterranean region, and the Syro-Palestinian type 66 (C5) is also identified in Western Europe (Alpözen et al. 1995:66-7). Type 67 (C4 and C7) has been found in Gaza, North Africa, Western Europe and the Black Sea (Alpözen et. al. 1995:66-7). Alpözen et al. (1995:66-7) describe the Syro-Palestinian type 66 and 67 jars as having torpedo-like bodies with small round handles attached to the body. Distinctive combing is present at the base at either handle level (type 66) or directly below the

67 handles (type 67). Type 66 is more rounded in shape and lacks a shoulder, while type 67 is tapered to a more pointed base and forms a short, sloping shoulder (1995:66-7).

Figure 4.17. C3, Late Roman Amphora I (LRA I) upper body (RCMAP).

The Late Roman Amphora I (C3, Figure 4.17) found in the harbor belongs to a jar type found throughout the Mediterranean during the fourth through seventh centuries CE, possibly produced in Asia Minor (Sibella 2002:10-12; van Alfen 1996:191-5). It was widely distributed throughout the ancient world, including the Levant, Britain, the Black Sea region and North Africa (Sibella 2002:10; van Alfen 1996:191-5). These shipping jars were most likely wine containers but may also have transported oil based on residue analyses and some scant textual evidence (Sibella 2002:10-12). Diagnostic features of this jar type include a cylindrical body, long neck capped with a thick rim, thick handles that extend horizontally from the rim and vertically to the shoulders, and pronounced combing or ridges covering the body and neck (Sibella 2002:10). The jar found at Antioch includes a large body sherd with distinct combing, and two large handle pieces,

68 including part of the mouth and neck. The incomplete handles create a sloping 90o angle from the neck, characteristic of LRA1 jars.

Analysis of Anchor Assemblage

Underwater concretions often conceal the diagnostic characteristics of anchor types (and other materials) which is the case for many of the anchors found in the harbor. Stone anchors, iron anchors and the metal components of wooden anchors are evident in particular areas throughout the harbor and in varying states of preservation. From underwater images and diver survey descriptions, these anchors were analyzed for diagnostic traits useful in dating them to determine the diachronic role of the harbor in shipping and transport. Many different types of anchors were used by ancient Mediterranean seafarers, and the type used depended on factors such as the technology of the time period, composition of the sea bottom, size and type of ship. By comparing data gleaned from the anchor remains found in the harbor at Antioch with anchors from other sites, I determined elements of harbor usage and assessed approximate scale and involvement of the harbor in systems of trade and maritime interaction.

Stone anchors. Stone anchors have many potential functions, and each anchor may have been used in several different ways over the course of its life, making analyses and interpretation difficult and conclusions almost perpetually unclear. Because they are inexpensive, durable and undeniably useful, these stone objects were likely to be reused, perhaps over hundreds (or thousands) of years. As artifacts that help to understand cultural landscapes, the context in which these anchors are found may provide the most evidence of their intended use. The harbor at Antioch was definitely an anchorage, based on evidence from both natural environmental formation and human cultural remains. The stone anchors found here illustrate this; one would expect to find stone anchors, line and net weights in an area of heavy boating and fishing activity. The functions of these stone anchors are also primarily related to social

69 processes archaeologists and historians know went on here, particularly shipping, trade and manufacture. A total of 21 stone anchors were found, 12 of which are in the eastern bay (57% of sample). Three were found between the eastern and central bays (14%), five in the central bay (24%) and one in the western bay (5%). The distribution of stone anchors among the three aggregation areas of may further indicate a spatial difference in harbor usage. All of the Type II, Type III and Type V stone anchors were found in the eastern bay, along with two Type I anchors. The eastern/central bay and central bay held five of the remaining six Type I anchors, along with all of the Type IV anchors. Only one stone anchor, a Type I, was found in the western bay. Of the five types, two resemble Grossman’s (2001:108-111) categorizations of stone objects found at the ancient city of Apollonia on the Israeli coast. Type I stone anchors most closely resemble the stone objects Grossman (2001:108-9) likens to anchors found in secondary use from Sozopol (Apollonia Pontica). Type IV stone anchors are similar to her grouping of four, small round, amorphous anchors (Grossman 2001: 110, Figures 14-17) she equates with Kapitän’s (1984: 33) earlier period undressed stone anchors (see Figure 3.10, anchor numbers 2 and 3, page 44). Using only stone anchor data, the quantity of stone anchors in the eastern bay suggests that the bulk of activity occurred here, slowly tapering off in the direction of the western bay. But because of the ambiguity surrounding stone anchor use and chronology, little more can be deduced using this data alone.

Wooden anchors. Three lead anchor stocks (WA1, WA2 and WA3) and one anchor collar (WA4) are what remain of wooden anchors found in the western bay of the harbor. One stock (WA2) was found in direct association with the anchor collar (WA4), suggesting these two wooden anchor parts came from the same anchor and settled next to each other as the wood holding them together deteriorated underwater (Figure 4.18). The different number of holes in each similarly constructed stock may be evidence for a new addition to Haldane’s (1984:3-4) wooden anchor typology. WA2 may be a transitional type between the type IVA and IVB, or may require changes to the typology to accommodate its features.

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Figure 4.18. WA2 and WA4, closely associated a) lead stock and b) collar (RCMAP).

Iron anchors. Measurement data and artifact descriptions may be used from iron anchor assemblages to make preliminary assessments of their dates of use, the size of ships that used them, and the type of marine environment most suited for their use. The chronological typology of iron anchors presented by Kingsley and Raveh (1996:81) was used to determine the date of the iron anchors found in the harbor at Antioch (Table 5) and subsequently to examine harbor usage over time. This chronology uses the evolution of technological features explained in the previous chapter. Haldane (1984) suggested that comparisons may be used to estimate ship sizes in the harbor from anchor lengths, using data from other ancient Mediterranean shipwrecks and associated anchors. The largest anchor in the sample, IA5 from the eastern bay, measures 2.1 m in length, similar in size and type to the iron T-shaped anchors from the Yassıada seventh-century shipwreck, which had a hull length of 20 m (van Doorninck 1982a:121-31; Haldane 1985:6-7; Kingsley and Raveh 1996:81).

71 Table 5. Iron anchors found in the harbor at Antioch and associated date ranges. Catalog # Anchor Type Location Est. Date Range Recorded Length (m) IA1 V-shaped anchor stock with ring, arm E bay early Roman period 1.21 IA2 Bow - shaped anchor W bay c. 50 BCE - 125 CE 1.15 IA3 T- shaped anchor and mortar E bay c. 5th - 7th c. CE 0.94 IA4 T-shaped anchor with ring E bay c. 5th - 7th c. CE 1.86 IA5 T-shaped anchor E bay c. 5th - 7th c. CE 2.1 IA6 T - shaped anchor E bay c. 5th - 7th c. CE 0.82 IA7 T-shaped iron anchor shank E bay c. 5th - 7th c. CE 1.25 IA8 T-shaped anchor with ring E bay c. 5th - 7th c. CE 1.53 IA9 T-shaped anchor W bay c. 5th - 7th c. CE 1.12 IA10 Y-shaped anchor W bay c. 950 - 1025 CE 1.15 IA11 grapnel anchor E bay c. 7th c. - Early Modern 0.78 IA12 broken grapnel anchor W bay c. 7th c. - Early Modern 1.1 IA13 grapnel anchor W bay c. 7th c. - Early Modern 1.72 IA14 grapnel anchor W bay c. 7th c. - Early Modern 1.18 IA15 grapnel anchor W bay c. 7th c. - Early Modern 1.12 IA16 grapnel anchor C bay c. 7th c. - Early Modern 0.83 (Kingsley and Raveh 1996:81; van Doorninck 1982a:141)

If Haldane is correct, we can propose that at least one ship anchoring in the harbor at Antioch was approximately 20 m as well. Most anchors, however, were much smaller, and are representative of smaller ships that used the harbor, likely between 12 and 15 m long, which corresponds with other data that suggest primarily small-scale trading took place here. Table 6 illustrates this model, using data from other ancient shipwrecks in the Mediterranean to suggest the sizes of some ships that lost anchors in the harbor at Antioch.

Table 6. Comparative ship and anchor measurements. Anchor Similarly sized Anchor Catalog # Anchor Type Length (m) shipwreck Length (m) Ship Length (m) IA3 iron T-shape 0.94 Dramont F 1.36 - 1.7 12 IA5 iron T-shape 2.1 Yassiada 7th c. 2 - 2.565 20 IA9 iron T-shape 1.12 Dramont F 1.36 - 1.7 12 Serce Limani; IA10 iron Y-shape 1.15 Agay 1.2 - 1.4; 1.25 15; 20-25 (Steffy 1982:86; van Doorninck 1982a:125-7; Kingsley and Raveh 1996:81)

To test anchor use in various marine conditions, archaeologists from the Institute of Nautical Archaeology (INA) conducted comparative tests between half-scale models of iron T-shaped anchors in the likeness of those found at the seventh-century Yassıada site and those typical of the eighteenth-century with broad, spaded flukes (Steffy 1982:142). Steffy (1982:142-3) concluded that the lighter, longer anchors of the seventh-

72 century set more easily underwater in heavy marine growth and on rocky bottoms, while the heavier eighteenth-century anchors set better on soft bottoms. This difference does not necessarily imply that Byzantine mariners principally traveled along routes with particular sedimentation patterns, but may explain other concerns related to ship size, available technology, and the many facets of shipping economics (Steffy 1982:143). Heavier anchors used in the later period likely used similarly heavier anchor lines and cables and were able to be stored more easily aboard larger ships than those akin to the seventh-century Yassıada ship. Byzantine mariners, Steffy believes, were able to store more anchors of lighter weight on smaller ships like the Yassıada ship, allowing for more anchors to be set on the bottom if necessary to compensate for the decreased setting ability (Steffy 1982:143).

Miscellaneous Artifacts

Surveyors discovered and recovered several other artifacts in the harbor, many of which serve as evidence for harbor activity and dates of use by their uniqueness, rather than their abundance. A bronze socket (AC 001, Figure 4.19), for example, is an exceptional artifact likely from the Hellenistic/Early Roman period (Cheryl Ward, personal communication 2005). Other finds included a rectangular or trapezoidal lead object, a composite lead and iron disk, a mortar and a limestone larnake, or small sarcophagus (Figure 4.22). Copper nails and bits of lead sheathing may serve as shipwreck remains, and preliminary analysis shows they are not inconsistent with a Hellenistic or Early Roman date (Cheryl Ward, personal communication 2005). Architectural elements found in the harbor included column fragments near the shore (Figure 4.23). Some large boulders with large holes may have been used for mooring (Figure 4.24). These finds will be described in a comprehensive survey publication (Ward 2004, 2005; Ward and Marten, in prep.).

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Figure 4.19. AC 001, bronze horse socket Figure 4.20. AC 002, composite lead and (RCMAP). iron disk (RCMAP).

Figure 4.21. AC 008, unknown lead Figure 4.22. AC 001, limestone larnake object (RCMAP). (RCMAP).

Figure 4.23. Column fragment Figure 4.24. Possible mooring stone (RCMAP). (RCMAP).

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Figure 4.25. Stone mortar (RCMAP).

Summary

After describing the artifact assemblage from the west harbor at Antioch, an analysis of artifact use and function was conducted. Artifact quantities, distributions, and densities were examined, as well as descriptions of diagnostic characteristics used in artifact identification and analysis. Preliminary artifact analyses and identification were also included. Photographs, sketches and descriptions of all catalogued artifacts are provided in Appendices A, B and C to supplement these data. Data analyses and interpretation may illustrate larger-scale social processes that occurred at Antioch. By identifying the particular artifact types, dates of use and function, patterns of trade and cultural interaction may be elucidated. Examinations of artifact distributions and densities may reveal diachronic changes in harbor usage, specifically differences in harbor exploitation or settlement patterns. For example, using these artifact data, areas of the harbor that experienced some of the earliest activity, such as the western bay, may have been used by the pirates for covert operations. Later, during periods of more intensive trade and regional interaction, the eastern bay of the harbor was likely exploited more heavily by residents. Artifact concentrations in the eastern bay dating to later periods suggest that this area was likely best used for mooring ships, loading and unloading trade goods to shore and other trading activities that would have occurred in the harbor.

75 Extensive efforts by archaeologists and historians in the excavation, recovery and interpretation of cultural material over time make it possible to interpret a site chiefly by analyses of its archaeological remains. Shipping jars and anchors are some of the most abundant artifacts found at Mediterranean maritime sites, and because of this, represent some of the most valuable artifacts for use in this study. In the next chapter, the recovered artifacts and analyses will be used to illustrate potential social systems that operated in Rough Cilicia, against the historical backdrop of trade and regional interaction. Historical contexts may partially be achieved through comparative analyses with other contemporaneous harbors in the Eastern Mediterranean. Harbor comparisons also provide a body of data for understanding the variability of Mediterranean harbors and their potential roles within larger social processes. Horden and Purcell’s connectivity model will then be used to not only interpret Antioch’s role within these processes, but also as a representation of a microcosm of Eastern Mediterranean social activity.

76 CHAPTER 5

MACROECOLOGY AND ROUGH CILICIA

Introduction

The Mediterranean can be seen as a macroecological unit, or large social network, in which harbors and port cities of varying sizes operated and were bound together principally by the “normal rhythms of Mediterranean trade” (Horden and Purcell 2000:172). On a small scale, artifact identifications and interpretations are helpful determinants of the diachronic role of the harbor at Antioch within the Mediterranean macroecological unit. The identification and interpretation of dated artifacts found in the harbor may then represent a starting point for understanding these larger social networks. In this vein, Antioch may be considered a microcosm of Rough Cilician society, as in Marx’s philosophy of internal relations. The artifact assemblage serves as the foundation for an interpretation of the cultural activity that took place millennia ago at the harbor at Antioch. From the artifact data and analyses, along with historical backgrounds and theoretical orientations, an image of Rough Cilician society begins to emerge. I interpret these data in an anthropological context, using a comparative study of Mediterranean harbors to illustrate their variability in size, purpose and level of involvement in spheres of regional trade and cultural interaction. Finally, in an effort to understand and apply patterns of human social behavior to events that occurred at Antioch during this time of rebellion, I examine the behavior of similar social groups as evident in the historical and archaeological records.

Artifact Distribution

Artifact concentrations may be due to changes in human activity, geological conditions, sea level changes, erosion, currents, salvaging activity, or other

77 environmental post-depositional processes (O’Shea 2002:211). In the harbor at Antioch, there are three general concentrations of artifacts in the eastern, central and western parts of the harbor. The differences in numbers of artifacts and artifact types concentrated in these areas may be due to all the above mentioned factors, and at least to a small degree, likely are. While it is impossible to know precisely what caused the current arrangement of artifacts found in the harbor, patterns may be revealed through archaeological survey and interpretation that allow for a preliminary assessment of cultural activity.

Spatial and Temporal Analysis There are 28 datable artifacts that may be used to construct a preliminary spatial and temporal orientation of the harbor at Antioch (Figure 5.1). Eight total artifacts are designated as Hellenistic/Early Roman, ranging from the third century BCE to the first century CE. One artifact, the bronze socket (AC 001) probably dates to the late second century BCE, and the group of copper nails and lead sheathing scraps may belong to this period as well (Cheryl Ward, personal communication 2005). Of the remaining six artifacts, five (63%) were found in the western bay. The other three are from the eastern bay. The wooden anchor remains, despite the broad range in date according to Haldane’s (1984) typology, are placed in the Hellenistic/Early Roman category because of their principal use during earlier periods. From the Roman period, ranging from the first century to the fourth century CE, three artifacts (11%) were located, two from the eastern bay and one from the between the eastern and central bays. Ten artifacts date to the Late Antique period, ranging from the fourth to the seventh centuries CE, the largest representative quantity of artifacts and 36% of the total artifact sample. Seven of these (70%) are from the eastern bay, two from the central bay and one from the western bay. Only one artifact (4%) is considered middle Byzantine, the eighth to the eleventh centuries CE, a Y-shaped anchor found in the western bay. In the last category, Medieval to Early Modern, from the eleventh to the eighteenth centuries CE, six artifacts were found (21%), four of which are in the western bay. The two remaining were found separately in the central bay and eastern bay.

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Figure 5.1. Map of the distribution of artifacts within the harbor at Antioch.

Eastern bay. The eastern region contains the only architectural remains in the harbor, a proportionally larger quantity of stone anchors (57% of total sample), nine iron anchors, a few lead and bronze objects and several concentrations of ceramic or shipping jar sherds (89% of total sample). Cut out of the rock on the eastern promontory are two sets of stairs, one with a landing platform at sea level, that presumably led to the late Byzantine castle atop it (Bean and Mitford 1962; Figure 5.2). At the shoreline directly west of the eastern promontory is an accumulation of large boulders and column fragments, which may indicate building activity or perhaps a collection of fallen rock and

79 cultural material from the mountain slope directly above. Otherwise, the sea-floor here is sandy or gravely, with blankets of sea grass and small rocks.

Figure 5.2. Steps carved into the rock on the eastern headland (RCMAP).

Five of the diagnostic shipping jar artifacts were found here, including the Will Type 10 jar (C1), the locally produced Zemer 41 pinch handle jars (C2 and C6), and two Syro-Palestinian jars (C5 and C7). One V-shaped anchor (IA1), six T-shaped anchors (IA2, IA4, IA5, IA6, IA7 and IA8), one grapnel anchor (IA11) and one unidentified iron anchor fragment were also located here, as were 12 of the 21 stone weights and weight anchors. Artifacts in the eastern bay show consistent use over time, though the majority of artifacts date to the Late Antique period (70% of total artifact sample). These data correspond with terrestrial evidence of expanding settlements during this period and later at Antioch (Rauh 1997b).

Central bay. This region exhibits fewer material remains, though the greater number of large boulders and grassy areas underwater may impact this result by limiting visibility of artifacts. The central bay showed no evidence of activity prior to the Late Antique period. Only three datable artifacts were found here, two from the Late Antique period and one from the Medieval to Early Modern period. Between the eastern and central bays, one artifact dating to the Roman period was found. The LRA I (C3) and one

80 Syro-Palestinian shipping jar (C4) were found here, as well as the nearby Rhodian jar (C8) from the east/central bay. One grapnel anchor (IA16) and one associated unidentified iron anchor stock (IA17) is located here, as well as a collection of three Type IV stone weights (S16, S17 and S18).

Western bay. The west bay is deeper than the eastern bay, especially close to shore, with many large rocks and boulders. This bay is comprised mostly of iron anchors, wooden anchor remains and collections of shipping jar sherds. Unlike the other two defined bays, no stone anchors were found here. Seven iron anchors were recorded here, including one bow-shaped anchor (IA2), one T-shaped (IA9), one Y-shaped (IA10) and four grapnel (IA12 – IA15) anchors. Two unidentified iron anchor fragments were found here as well. All four wooden anchor artifacts are located here (WA1, WA2, WA3 and WA4), as are three identified ceramic scatter areas. This assemblage may be indicative of the activities of larger ships with larger cargoes.

Preliminary Conclusions

These spatial and temporal data give evidence of consistent use and exploitation of the harbor at Antioch over time, beginning in the late Hellenistic period during the time of pirate occupation and Roman expansion and continuing into the present day. Changes in regional harbor use may be discerned, with the bulk of early activity occurring in the western bay and the majority of later activity in the eastern bay. This may have occurred with changes in settlement patterns. People typically build structures in areas of heavy use, and those structures then ensure continued, and perhaps increased use in that particular area. People may also have been engaging in different activities. If pirates engaged in covert acts, the western bay may have been desirable because of limitations in sight from sea to that area. The eastern part of the harbor, on the other hand, is most accessible to the hinterland and upper promontories, where evidence of Byzantine settlements exists. It is also the most protected from prevailing winds. Natural processes such as erosion, rock fall and earthquakes may also have contributed to changes in the

81 landscape at Antioch, which would often determine where much of the cultural activity took place. Trade in this region was likely small-scale – that of caboteurs, or small coastal merchants who participated in the routine, daily trade that has characterized much of the Mediterranean’s history. Because of its hostile geography, large commercial ships were unlikely to moor here, and as Rauh et al. (2000:152) note, merchant ships that did pass through the harbors along the coast of Rough Cilicia were generally on their way to larger commercial centers elsewhere. It is possible that larger ships anchored outside the harbor and used smaller craft to navigate through shallower waters and deliver goods or collect supplies, much like some smaller boats found associated with whaling ships in Red Bay, Labrador, or with the eleventh-century ship wrecked at Serçe Limanı (Grenier 1996:76; van Doorninck 2004a). There is some evidence of this, based on snorkel surveys conducted in and around the harbor at Antioch, as well as at neighboring harbors such as Iotape and Halil Limanı. Preliminary survey suggests a deeper, more protected anchorage exists on the far eastern boundary of Antioch’s east harbor, at Çıpçıklıkaya. This anchorage may have served as a place for larger ships to moor while sending smaller boats closer to shore. Patterns of harbor usage can also be discerned. Types of anchors used for particular marine conditions, such as those described in Chapter 3, are found at Antioch and are distributed much in the same way Steffy’s (1982:142-3) model predicted. The vast majority of the stone anchors were found in the eastern part of the harbor, where the sea floor is mostly small rocks and sand with patches of poseidon grass. The larger and longer iron anchors, best used for setting among heavy marine growth and boulders, were primarily found in the rocky western part of the harbor. Because of these distributions, I suggest that smaller ships typically used the eastern end of the harbor, while larger ships carrying larger cargoes likely utilized the western end.

Evidence of Occupation Evidence for trade and occupation first appears in association with the Hellenistic/Early Roman period, during the time of piracy. Trade and traffic seems to have been limited until a marked increase in the middle Byzantine period. A few

82 diagnostic artifacts found in the harbor directly suggest human occupation during the time of piracy. The bronze winged horse (AC 001) and Type IVA lead stocks and collar are likely from the period of pirate occupation (Cheryl Ward, personal communication 2005). The shipping jar tentatively identified as a Will Type 10 (AC 003) is also dated to this period, possibly indicating some trading activity with the western Mediterranean and Aegean seas (McCann and Oleson 2004:63-4). Evidence for early cultural activity is principally from the western bay. Of the eight artifacts dated to the Hellenistic/Early Roman period, five of these were found here (63%). If these dates are accurate, it suggests that, at the very least, some small-scale trade took place here during the time pirates historically occupied the region. Data from diagnostic potsherds (Figure 5.3) suggests initial occupation in the Classical and Hellenistic periods was followed by a surge in activity in the Early Roman period, which corresponds with periods of known pirate occupation. Terrestrial surveys in the Antioch vicinity, however, yielded little data from the period of pirate occupation. Reasons for the lack of pirate evidence are at best, speculative. Rauh et al. (2000:175) have suggested that the lack of evidence could be the result of later Roman and Byzantine construction obscuring the archaeological record. Likewise, recent construction of banana terraces may also have erased evidence for earlier pirate occupations (Rauh et al. 2000:167-8). Pirate construction techniques also may be a factor in limited archaeological evidence. Vernacular building construction among the pirates may have differed fundamentally from that of other ancient, classical, stone- and marble- constructed sites. Rauh et al. (2000:157) posited “that ‘pirate architecture’ ought to employ more extensive use of vernacular, ‘make-shift’ or ‘primitive’ construction techniques and more utilitarian building designs than those encountered in ‘normal’ Greco-Roman communities.” Because these settlements may have been built of wood, presumably from the abundant timber stands in the region, their remains may be more difficult to detect in the archaeological record.

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Figure 5.3. Rough Cilicia Survey Pottery Totals, 1996-2003 (RCASP).

It is difficult to determine, or even speculate, what would constitute evidence for piracy in the archaeological record, on land or in the harbor. Pirates and merchants used similar sailing equipment and likely transported similar cargoes (i.e., people and trade goods). More weaponry, perhaps, could be found aboard pirate ships, though the limited shipwreck evidence does not support this conjecture. Currently, there are no known archaeological manifestations of piracy, even with more recent and more readily documented pirate groups. Shipwreck site 0003BUI at Beaufort Inlet, North Carolina, for example, is a heavily armed eighteenth-century ship that carried 24 carriage-mounted cannon, numerous types of round and bar shot, and several other artifacts dated to the eighteenth century (Lawrence and Wilde-Ramsing 2001:1-3,8). Historical records indicate Blackbeard’s flagship Queen Anne’s Revenge sank here in 1718, but even after nine years of research and excavation, archaeologists lack conclusive evidence that shipwreck site 0003BUI is indeed Queen Anne’s Revenge. The quantity of data gathered at the harbor at Antioch is significantly smaller than the quantity found at site 0003BUI. Because of the relative lack of data, any identification of piracy at Antioch is intrinsically more difficult and may likely be impossible. A lack of evidence can be telling as well, though conclusions based on negative evidence are inherently problematic. It is possible that trade in this region was very limited during the period of pirate occupation (139-67 BCE), which may be

84 understandable, considering historic accounts of violence enacted by these pirate groups. Some researchers note, however, that pirate activity on the scale of the Cilicians could not have occurred without involvement in some sort of legitimate industry. This network may have involved the trade in wine, though evidence to support this theory is speculative. Some evidence, however, may support theories of a thriving industry in “cheap imitation pottery” (Rauh 2004b:333). The locally produced Zemer 41 pinch handle jar (C2) is likely an imitation of higher quality Cypriot jars, the result of artisans “cashing in” on the latter’s international desirability. Rauh suggests local wine was produced and shipped in these imitation jars. Little evidence for any other trading networks, such as timber or luxury goods, has been recovered (Rauh 1999:170-1). Underwater, ceramic evidence supporting systems of trade or manufacture that occurred at Antioch during the Hellenistic period, such as the Zemer 41 jar, may currently serve as the best indicator of potential pirate activity because of its contemporaneous date with historical accounts of pirate occupation. Data acquired from the maritime survey is not enough to positively identify pirate activity at Antioch, and emphasizes the inherent problems associated with identifying piracy in the archaeological record. The large number of Late Antique and early Byzantine period artifacts in the harbor correlates with Kingsley and Decker’s (2001:1-16) assertion that trade and interaction dramatically increased in the Eastern Mediterranean during this time. Many factors contributed to this, including an increase in Roman military presence in the east, as well as the spread of Christianity that spurred new industries in the building of houses of worship and trade of religiously significant objects. Additionally, the eastern provinces experienced a rise in population mobility associated with religious pilgrimages, which perhaps influenced further trade of goods. Between 518 and 565 CE, the Roman military stationed an additional 80,000 soldiers in the eastern provinces, primarily to defend against Sasanid Persia to the east. The 20% increase in population from the military alone burdened provincial populations, particularly because the central government oversaw much of the agricultural production, collection and distribution associated with annona militaris, or military tax (Kingsley and Decker 2001:6). As part of this tax, a percentage of agricultural yields went directly to the military, transported most easily by ship to regions without enough food to feed

85 soldiers. Merchants also found this transient population a ready market for their wares (Kingsley and Decker 2001:9). As Christianity was adopted by the Roman Empire after 313 CE and spread throughout its provinces, trade also increased, including that of oriental goods into the Empire and Roman goods to the Orient (Mundell Mango 2001:87). Much of this trade was facilitated by Nestorian Christians from the Persian Empire. The Church itself was a vast landowner, and estates associated with the Church were often involved in large-scale agricultural production (Kingsley and Decker 2001:10), particularly of wine and olive oil. Pilgrimages to the Holy Lands, Kingsley (2001:59) argues, may also have created new markets for trade. As an example, he suggests that pilgrimages may have provided Palestine with an ideal marketing tool for their wines – “where vineyards spring forth from soils once roamed by the twelve tribes of Israel, and later by Jesus and the Apostles” (Kingsley 2001:59). Non-ceramic archaeological evidence also supports an increase in trade and interaction during this period. In Korykos in Cilicia, for example, inscriptions describe, “intense commercial activity in both retail and production” (Kingsley and Decker 2001:14). Changes in ship construction, evident from shipwreck archaeology, also seem to be partially the result of changes in maritime commerce. A shift from shell-first to frame-first construction occurred during this time, the latter more easily constructed and requiring less wood to build. The change reflects an increased need for merchant ships and limited timber and labor sources (Kingsley and Decker 2001:13; Steffy 1994:80, 83- 5). Evidence at Antioch for a marked increase in Late Antique and Byzantine activity serves as an example of the usefulness of Horden and Purcell’s connectivity model. Kingsley and Decker (2001:15) note that archaeological investigation of harbors in the Eastern Mediterranean was limited to central port cities, such as Caesarea Maritima. Research at smaller, rural sites is essential in order to “transform our current ignorance about the economic interplay between town and country in the late antique East Mediterranean” (Kingsley and Decker 2001:15). Antioch may begin to serve this purpose in archaeological and theoretical interpretation. For example, Antioch is a smaller site in a peripheral and relatively inhospitable region. Despite this, increases in population

86 (Kingsley and Decker 2001: 2,6), mobility (Horden and Purcell 2000:267) and trade are evident during the Late Antique and Byzantine periods. As Horden and Purcell (2000:267) explain, “connectivity acts on the otherwise demographically more tightly constrained microregions, making possible substantial horizontal movements of population: people have been mobile as well as their supplies.” The artifact assemblage and subsequent analyses can demonstrate a pattern of evolving social complexity at Antioch, and potentially throughout the Eastern Mediterranean. Evolving social complexity is manifested differently over time. In the Hellenistic and Early Roman periods, the recovered artifacts suggest small-scale occupation and trading activity. During the Roman period, usage of the area gradually increased, reaching its zenith during the Late Antique and Byzantine periods. Truly large- scale occupation of the area, however, likely never occurred.

Harbor Archaeology

Analyses of contemporaneous harbors involved in trading spheres may further elucidate Mediterranean social systems, in addition to revealing the complex web of interaction illustrated in Horden and Purcell’s connectivity model. I believe RCMAP survey data may be better understood in context with other ports and harbors in the Mediterranean. The Mediterranean was the nucleus of the expansive Roman Empire, and the Empire relied heavily on port cities for the exchange and transport of goods, information and people. As the interaction among Mediterranean peoples intensified, cultural spread and the sharing of ideas were inevitable. Further, since port cities and harbors serve as primary centers for contact with other cities in the Empire, they are valuable sites to explore for evidence of interaction spheres from which new ideas may have originated. Much variability exists among the port cities of the Mediterranean, and each can be interpreted as an independent microecology, or a locality “with a distinctive identity derived from the set of available productive opportunities and the particular interplay of human responses to them found in a given period” (Horden and Purcell 2000:80).

87 Because trade among cities in the Mediterranean was essential in everyday life, it is likely that expansion of trade systems relied on an increased rate of adoption of technologies related to shipbuilding, port and harbor construction. What we then may be able to determine from the physical remains of these harbors are incipient forms of social and technological change and interaction. These technological and social changes may have begun with the economic system and radiated to other social systems over time. The regions of the hinterland were likely the last to adopt these changes. From this, harbor archaeology may then prove to be a particularly significant avenue for exploring systems of cultural adoption and change. Ancient harbor construction provides material evidence of technological change directly related to shipbuilding, which both influences and is influenced by overarching social systems of the dominant culture. Harbors are defined as the partially enclosed areas of water where ships are safely moored or docked, and often consist of breakwaters, jetties, docks, and other natural and artificial formations serving to protect against storms and high seas (Rickman 1985:105). Ports, on the other hand, are comprised of these harbor structures and sheltered areas including shipsheds and warehouses, piers or wharves, and other facilities involved in loading and unloading, repair, storage, and ship maintenance. Access to inland areas for the transport of cargo ready to be loaded on ships, stored in warehouses, or shipped to the hinterland is another important feature of ports (Rickman 1985:105). Ports and port cities can then give us more ideas of the fundamental, secondary activities that were involved in these systems of trade and interaction, which are perhaps more indicative of the broader cultural practices of the region. The establishment of a port city at a particular location depends on many factors, including its access to natural resources and to the hinterland, and the presence of natural formations that may serve to calm waters, protect ships when moored, and protect shorelines from erosion. Access to resources for trade and subsistence from both the coastal settlement and the hinterland are important, the latter of which is often reached via roads, canals or rivers (Oleson 1988:147). Richer agricultural land and a wealth of raw materials (such as timber) are often found in the hinterland, making access to it and its resources important for the acquisition of items for trade and for their own

88 subsistence. Karmon (1985:1) defines hinterland as “the area where traffic demand originates, which is connected to a port by means of inland communications.” Just as it is beneficial to use comparisons among artifacts to aid their interpretation, comparisons among regional harbors are beneficial for understanding and interpreting whole systems of social interaction and cultural influence. I selected the port cities of Caesarea Maritima in Israel, Cosa on the western coast of Italy, Paphos of Cyprus, and Aperlae, a small port in Cilicia, to use as representations of the variability exhibited among Roman and Byzantine era port cities of the Mediterranean. These sites may also be used as points of reference for the interpretation of the harbor at Antioch. Central ports, those such as Caesarea Maritima, served as hubs for trade and political and economic interaction, with 600-ton merchant ships docking daily to load and unload goods from throughout the Empire. Conversely, the small Cilician city of Aperlae has a harbor about a twentieth of the size of Caesarea’s and was frequented by small coastal traders. The western harbor at Antioch (250,000 m2) is larger than the size of Caesarea’s (210,000m2), yet likely experienced small-scale activity much like Aperlae. Geographic features, trade routes, commodities and political activities influenced the development and maintenance of these cities. Characteristic features of the four Roman and Byzantine ports will be considered in a broader context of interaction among these interrelating systems, how they affect the daily lives and behaviors of each city’s citizens, and how a focus on peripheral sites, such as Antioch, may ultimately be more beneficial to a study of social history. For shore protection and safe anchorage, and for the protection of building structures in the port once the harbor was completed, the presence of a natural harbor or bay, headland or promontory were ideal features for the establishment of a port city. Sites in particularly favorable geographic locations along trade routes, such as that of Paphos in Cyprus, were often used as stopover points during long-distance trade voyages. Paphos, built in 323 BCE, was used chiefly because of a promontory point that protected mooring and provided navigation, and also because it allowed safe access to the island’s timber and copper resources (Hohlfelder 1995:192-3). If such natural formations were not present, technological advancements such as hydraulic concrete in the late third to early second century BCE, allowed engineers to

89 circumvent this lack of desirable natural formations by successfully creating similar artificial structures. The first evidence archaeologists have for hydraulic concrete construction is from Cosa, dated to 273 BCE. This material was primarily used to build concrete harbor piers (McCann 1985:115). Caesarea Maritima, built in 10 BCE, had no natural harbor, and was artificially constructed of hydraulic concrete made of tuff and pozzolana on a massive scale (210,000 m2 for the outer harbor construction). It has been called the “first Early Modern harbor constructed in antiquity” by its excavators (Hohlfelder 2000:243). At Aperlae, established in the third century BCE, the terrain was, relatively speaking, inhospitable, with little potable water and a mountainous hinterland. Despite a Roman road found at the site, access to the hinterland was difficult, which Hohlfelder and Vann (2000:127) argue was the main reason behind the city remaining a small coastal outpost. Difficulty reaching the hinterland also forced its residents to heavily exploit their maritime resources, and rely heavily on the Mediterranean for its subsistence (Hohlfelder and Vann 1998:28-9). Its harbor was constructed from rubble piles of Murex trunculus shell and pottery sherds. These shell piles were a secondary use for the mollusk exploited for purple dye production (Hohlfelder and Vann 1998:30-3). The physical geography of the Rough Cilician region, while inhospitable to many, was the ideal topography for pirate groups to seek isolation from others or to perpetuate their culturally prescribed, reclusive ways. The establishment of a pirate stronghold at the port city of Antioch, in this case, was dependent on the rugged terrain that kept large groups and heavy commercial activity away. Despite this, the harbor at Antioch has many desirable features, including large promontories for protection from waves and wind (and potential invaders), and several safe, natural moorings for small ships.

Table 7. Harbor Site Comparisons

Harbor Site Date Built Location Size in m2 Construction material Trade Items/Function Geography multiple: incl. grain, fish, artificial, fortified Caesarea 10 BCE Israel 210,000 hydraulic concrete wine coast Cosa 273 BCE Italy 25,000 hydraulic concrete wine, fish, garum barrier-lagoon Lycia, N. shore of bay Aperlae 3rd c. BCE Turkey est. 10,000 shell, potsherd rubble Murex trunculus dye terminus internat'l transhipment promontory, Paphos 323 BCE SW Cyprus 220,000 rubble breakwater/wall point headland Rough wine (?), pirate promontories, Antioch 2nd c. BCE Cilicia 250,000 natural headquarters headland

90 Trade Routes and Commodities The primary function of a port city often may be determined by examining either its position on a trade route or its access to areas for the efficient exploitation of resources – particularly those which could be traded for commodities absent from the city itself. At Aperlae, large shell middens of the mollusk Murex trunculus were found. This animal produces a valuable purple dye traded in antiquity. Hohlfelder and Vann (1998:29-30) believe this dye was a primary regional commodity and that it provided the economic base for Aperlae and an available resource with which to trade for basic subsistence items. Aperlae had a small harbor, one that would have primarily been used for cabotage, or smaller scale trading along the coasts for routine, daily needs (Hohlfelder and Vann 2000:126). Herod’s massive Caesarea Maritima in Israel, built between 22-10 BCE, is distinctly different. It was constructed for a combination of political and economic reasons, but functioned primarily as a core center for trade and as a port of call for grain ships traveling along the trade route from Rome to Alexandria (Beebe, cited in Hohlfelder 2000:243). Cosa and Paphos were both likely built as trading outlets for their respective region’s wealth of resources: volcanic minerals, timber, agricultural products and the maritime resources of Cosa, and copper and timber from Paphos. Additonally, Paphos enjoyed a particularly strategic geographic location for passing traders headed for the Levant or Egypt (Hohlfelder and Leonard 1994:45). Rauh (2004b:329) argues that the geography at Antioch was particularly suited for oil and wine production and for the manufacture of shipping jars used to transport these goods. A good underground drainage system through the karst geology, warm, sunny climate, and abundant timber resources located close to shore were all valuable for the production of trade goods as well as for local subsistence. The Zemer 41 shipping jars may serve as evidence for wine production, as its pitch-coated interior suggests this jar likely contained wine. As the volume of trade was steadily increasing in the Mediterranean, so were the sizes of ships – many often loaded with thousands of shipping jars and tons of grain from various reaches of the Empire. Distance traveled by ships was increasing as well, and all these factors resulted in the need for larger capacity harbors to accommodate these large

91 ships. At Caesarea Maritima, the area of the outer harbor (named Sebastos) was approximately 210,000 m2, while the harbors of Aperlae and Cosa were considerably smaller (Hohlfelder 1985:84; Hohlfelder and Vann 2000:132; McCann 1997:113). The harbor at Antioch, however, is larger than all four harbors, yet was not used as extensively as the similarly sized Caesarea or Paphos. Antioch’s peripheral position on major trade routes for geographical and social reasons is likely the cause, which likely served to attract piracy and in turn further detract heavy commercial activity.

Dynamic Political Systems As all social systems are interdependent, systems of trade and interaction were often closely related to political systems operating in the Mediterranean. The sea was often instrumental in political acts, and shifts of power in the Mediterranean could be decided by naval battles. Changes in the level of maritime control of protectorates or marginal regions by the central authority often created power imbalances as well. Piracy, political alliances, disruptions in trade systems and other politically related causes and outcomes can be often seen through archaeological features extant at port city sites. Instability in the Empire and threats from Cilician pirates likely motivated the structural changes, such as the construction of fortification walls, seen in the archaeological record at Aperlae. Threats from Cilician pirates were immediate there, given the close proximity to pirate havens. The threats may have caused many to flee to the hinterland, slowing trade and ultimately affecting trade systems in the entire eastern Mediterranean. Material evidence at Aperlae closely mirrors its textual history, as evidence for the building and rebuilding of fortification walls may indicate changing political, military and social climates in the region directly affecting citizens. Initially, the fortification wall surrounded the entire region of the Lower East Gate and was later rebuilt and restored on the western waterfront area. Little to no permanent structures existed outside the walls that would have been accessible by sea during the time of pirate domination (Hohlfelder and Vann 1998:31-2). Buildings and structures were constructed outside Aperlae’s walls only after the defeat of the Cilician pirates in the first century BCE. Coinciding with the dates of the fall of the Roman Empire and an end to the Pax Romana, Pompey’s new world order that

92 declared peace in the Mediterranean, a second, larger curtain wall was built bayside. Older walls were renovated to protect both the Aperlites and structures built near the water and outside the initial wall (Hohlfelder and Vann 1998:32). Evidence for changing political systems is also present in the history of the construction of Caesarea Maritima, King Herod’s effort to gain support from Augustus after aligning himself with Marc Antony in the Roman civil war. As Hohlfelder (2000:242) notes, Herod “hoped to ingratiate himself with Augustus and thus strengthen his position as a loyal and faithful ally of the new regime…He sought to keep his kingdom free of direct Roman rule and to increase its prosperity.” The very naming of this city was indicative of Herod’s alliance to the new regime, as well as Augustus’ ultimate control over the eastern Mediterranean coastline. This harbor and port were constructed in a grand fashion with a temple for Augustus and Rome, palaces, an agora, a theater and amphitheater, hippodrome, street grids, and marble street colonnades. Engineers also implemented the most advanced technologies of artificial harbor construction (Porath 1996:105-116). In this capacity, the archaeological record can support and affirm textual evidence, or in some cases, provide a strong case for refutation. Further research in the region surrounding Antioch, particularly in the form of terrestrial survey, may uncover offensive fortifications from the Hellenistic period or additional evidence of pirate occupation that mirrors the state of political and social systems known to have existed in Rough Cilicia from such textual and maritime archaeological evidence. As mentioned earlier, however, such terrestrial remains may not be preserved or may be too obscured by subsequent human activity to be of use in any interpretation of social systems at work on land. Although little evidence of piracy has been found at Antioch, evidence of political activity in later periods, such as the late Byzantine castle on the upper promontory, is abundant.

Influence of Systems on Daily Life Large-scale systems of trade and politics influence small-scale social systems and daily activities as well. Commerce and interaction, piracy, warfare and political systems are all larger systems that shape daily Roman life. The scalar division between urban

93 centers and more rural settings is a good example of how these larger systems experienced at particular sites can deeply affect local cultures, whether based on geographical features, position on trade routes, or political alignments. Large trading centers such as Caesarea Maritima would experience seasonally, on a daily or perhaps hourly basis, an influx of people and activity involved in docking massive merchant ships in the harbor. Cities like Caesarea Maritima welcomed people from many different regions of the Empire and the world, and accommodated for typical sailor fare: bars and brothels (Oleson 1988:147). Structurally, it would have been necessary for harbors to support large ships, with facilities available for repairs, warehouses for the storage of cargo, and many employees to undertake these various jobs. Lighthouses were also likely features at harbors, often at the terminus of a promontory. Churches or places of worship may have been built, particularly after Constantine declared Christianity the religion of the Roman Empire, and Rome the religious center of the world. Citizens had access to trade goods from all over the Empire and access to ideologies that inevitably are exchanged along with cargo. As in urban centers today, these cities were diverse, with diverse access to resources. Like Aperlae, small cities or towns included a few churches, baths, an agora, tombs and cisterns, but in relation to the large hubs, were smaller and likely more typical of the period than larger cities (Horden and Purcell 2000:144). Small-scale coastal traders were probably the town’s only contact with the greater Empire, and even that was probably through moderately sized trading hubs, likely not one on the scale as Caesarea Maritima. Access to resources and opportunities for work was also not readily available. Aperlae, much like Antioch, did not have a harbor or infrastructure to support ships that would bring in many resources or provide for much work (Hohlfelder and Vann 1998:26). Furthermore, it is unlikely that Aperlae was founded for political reasons or with grand economic aspirations, but rather as a town built near a source of a valuable commodity that could be traded for essential items. Despite a greater degree of isolation from people and the social systems of the Empire, by noting the drastic effect piracy had on the city and city planning and construction, we can see that regardless of size, these systems are indeed pervasive.

94 Antioch may be unique in this respect because it is a small settlement that may have grown during the late Hellenistic period because of its political motivations – to rebel against the encroaching Roman Empire through piratical acts. Evidence of initial cultural activity directly correlates with the established time of pirate occupation noted in historical texts. These pirates likely found Antioch a valuable site because of its geographic and social isolation, as well as their assumed cultural and social investment in the land and kinship networks. Though the town was close to important timber sources (Jones 1998:209; Rauh 2004b:329) and kiln sites for producing shipping jars (Rauh 2004b:329), it is likely that this site was initially used as a pirate base rather than as a place from which to exploit valuable resources. After regional hostilities were placated by absorption into the Empire, Antioch continued to grow, perhaps because these valuable resources were recognized.

Towards a Greater Understanding of Social History The apex of technological capability, or what a society could do, is illustrated in the construction of major ports such as Caesarea, replete with massive artificial harbors and hydraulic concrete. In looking at smaller sites like Aperlae, we are able to see archaeologically what they generally did do, that is, in average towns that made up the majority of the Empire. In 1972 Fernand Braudel outlined a three-tiered hierarchy which seeks to explain the different levels of system interaction and influence in society. This model, heavily influenced by Marx and a major influence on Wallerstein, builds a theoretical bridge between Marx’s philosophy of internal relations and Wallerstein’s analysis of capitalism and globalization. Horden and Purcell (2000) built upon Braudel’s model to create their own internal relational theory of connectivity. The most fundamental of these three levels is the longue durée, or long term, which is characterized by slow change, occurring amid repetitive cycles of society; the mundane daily routine that persists over long periods of time (Braudel 1972:20, 23-352; Horden and Purcell 2000:36). Second is the category of conjonctures, or the structures that make up the longue durée, such as economic systems, warfare, and other secular trends (Braudel 1972:20-1, 353-642; Horden and Purcell 2000:37). Lastly is l’histoire événementielle, or factual history, which is comprised of the individual acts of particular

95 people or during certain discrete events, “the stuff of traditional political and diplomatic narrative” (Braudel 1972:21-2; Horden and Purcell 2000:37). The authors argue that to understand the actions of powerful individuals who enact change, one must first understand the conjonctures of society, and to understand those, the longue durée. This framework is applicable to the study of the five port cities of Caesarea Maritima, Paphos, Cosa, Aperlae and Antioch. Caesarea was a massive port built within 13 years, and served a political function to align the city ruled by Herod with Augustus’ Rome. Paphos, though never as successful a trade center as Caesarea, was envisioned by Ptolemy I to be a large scale, international hub, and was built accordingly, with a harbor matching the size of Caesarea (Hohlfelder and Leonard 1994:46). Cosa served more economic functions as a commercial port and fishery (McCann 1997:113). Aperlae’s primary involvement in cabotage places it squarely in the category consistent with longue durée, the most fundamental of Braudel’s three societal levels. Applying an ecological or systems approach to the study of these port cities allows us to examine these interrelated systems evident in the archaeological record.

Historical and Cultural Anthropological Applications

In an examination of piracy, trade and interaction, it is important to attempt to explain why piracy thrived in this region at a particular time. While the results of social and political activities such as piracy may be evident in the archaeological record, the anthropological goal of a comprehensive understanding of culture, in this case, is only achieved by looking to history for historical context and to cultural anthropology for patterns of behavior that may elucidate these events. While the peoples of Rough Cilicia were inevitably influenced by frequent changes in political control, their geographical isolation may have prevented extensive outside political or cultural intrusion until the Roman occupation. Rauh et al. (2000:152) describe the idiosyncratic social nature of these communities as, “if not overtly hostile to foreigners, then certainly calculating in their treatment, in large part because they shared few genuine cultural affinities with peoples beyond their horizons.” Because Rough Cilicia was viewed by more powerful Mediterranean polities as little more than a

96 waystation for commercial ships and military campaigns (Rauh et al. 2000:152), the more active migration and increasing control of the region by outside groups during the beginning of the Roman period was likely greeted with antagonism from locals, if not outright aggression. One need not look far to find similar examples in history of violent or subversive reactions to colonization and imperialism. The political landscape over the course of human history is often changed by violence, and it constantly creates new, powerful leaders and subordinated populations. To more fully understand elements of Cilician piracy, anthropologists can refer to similar cases of rebellion in colonial contexts evident historically and ethnographically.

The mountains-plains dichotomy and its social implications. There is often an important social distinction between peoples of the mountains and those of the plains. Charles Piot (1992:36-7), an Africanist anthropologist and ethnographer of the Kabre in Togo, West Africa, describes this geographical distinction as central to much of the social, cultural and political organization among West Africans (1992:35-6; 1999:30-7). Within this particular social group, the mountains of the northern regions are considered their homeland and the place nearest to the spirits who maintain a significant role in the creation of cultural identities. The plains, on the other hand, are associated with wealth and modernity (Piot 1992:37). This mountains-plains distinction is evident in Isauria- Cilicia as well, not only with the pirates and inhabitants of Rough Cilicia, but in the neighboring Amanus mountains of the anti-Taurus (Shaw 1990:224). Shaw (1990:200) discusses the “bandits” of the highlands and their role in power relations with the lowlands, noting that historically “a peculiar asymmetry of power…ebbed and flowed between the two zones.” During the period of Roman expansion in Asia Minor, power struggles between highland “bandits” and the lowland polities mirrored many of the struggles between Cilician pirates and Roman imperials. In the remoteness of the mountains, Roman provincial governors describe the inhabitants of the Amanus as a “source of perpetual hostility that the Romans had ‘to pacify’” (Shaw 1990:224). They are described as savages, permanent dissidents to Roman rule in the region, violent, and difficult to

97 control. During his time as regional governor, Cicero describes an attack upon Pindenissum, a mountain village and fortified stronghold of the Free Cilicians. Named for their “perpetual armed resistance to lowland powers…these Free Cilicians had never given obedience to any king” (Shaw 1990:225). Regional control was particularly problematic for Rome, particularly in outlying and newly established provinces. Ritualized relationships between Roman governors and local leaders were often created, usually through the exchange of gifts and political favors in order to maintain control and allegiance to the Roman Empire (Shaw 1990:226). These links often benefited the mountain communities more than the imperial rulers. When Rome attempted to establish stronger control over the region, particularly through the exaction of tribute, local groups reacted by violent resistance and launched counterattacks in the lowlands (Shaw 1990:230). Little permanent pacification of the mountain groups was evident until the region was collapsed into a provincial area with the plains areas during the rule of Vespasian (Shaw 1990:231; Jones 1998:209). During the period of provincialization, as Shaw (1990:231) describes, “a plain was found for the mountain.” This balance was necessary for Rome to keep peace among the bandits of the Amanus Mountains. There have been numerous other groups who exhibited hostility towards colonial or imperial powers. Dyson (1975) discusses several native revolts that occurred in the expanding Roman Empire. Much like the Cilicians’ revolt against Roman colonization, taxation and political rule, many native revolts surrounded issues of a changing economic system, growing debt owed to the Roman Empire, or land taken for the settlement of Roman farms or estates. Dyson (1975) describes Spain’s revolt against the Romans in 197 BCE, and the similar revolts of the Nasamones of North Africa in 85 - 86 CE and the Frisians in 28 CE as “expressions of resistance to taxation and the administrative abuses that came with taxation” (1975:171). The revolt of Boudicca in Britain in 61 CE (Dyson 1975:168) was likely the result of growing debts accrued during this early period of initial taxation. Finally, the appropriation of land by Romans from natives, perhaps in response to debt repayment, may have spurred the revolts of the Gauls in 225 BCE, and similar revolts in North Africa, Spain and Britain (Dyson 1975:171). Hostile reactions are perhaps more frequent than exceptional in response to Roman colonization. What is

98 exceptional is the success of some of these peripheral groups against powerful, imposing governments, if even for a short time. Models of minority group formation may elucidate rebellious behavior.

Social theory and minority group formation. Sociologists Hechter and Okamoto (2001) created a model to explain the organization of minority groups and how these groups affect change and political outcomes. Their model posits that minority groups are successful only when they meet three conditions: “(a) they have distinctive social identities, (b) they have the potential to engage in collective action, and (c) their political demands are not likely to be met by the existing institutional arrangements” (Hechter and Okamoto 2001:190). The latter two conditions are evident for Cilician piracy in the historical record, while the first requires further elucidation. Hechter and Okamoto (2001:191) outline two additional provisions subsumed under the first condition of social identity: mutual dependence and the establishment of in-group and out-group distinctions. Mutual dependence was a prominent element of identity theory in the mid-twentieth century, when researchers suggested that shared experiences or problems led to the formation of social solidarity. The distinction of in- groups and out-groups is manifest in the cultural and social isolation of the Rough Cilicians, who, according to Rauh et al. (2000:152) historically exhibited xenophobic behavior and a general distrust of outsiders. Put into a historical context in Rough Cilicia, the success of the pirates was perhaps largely due to their shared hostility towards the encroaching Roman Empire, which caused them to join together and combat the threat en masse.

Summary

Historical documentation identifies the harbor at Antioch as the pirates’ headquarters. The earliest artifacts from the RCMAP survey date precisely to this period, suggesting this harbor was used during the period of pirate occupation, I believe, as an operational base and perhaps a port of trade to supplement their activities and sustain its population. It was likely a center for the development and enactment of anarchic

99 activities and pirate rebellion, though little direct evidence of this exists outside of the historical record. There are many reasons for this relative lack of direct evidence, including disturbed terrestrial sites and speculation concerning types of artifacts that would positively indicate pirate activity. The role of Antioch in Rough Cilicia likely includes both: as a port of trade and a site of pirate occupation, roles that may have existed in symbiosis to perpetuate the interests of each. As a port in the greater Mediterranean macroecological unit, Antioch can provide data to contribute to analysis of social processes at work in this region, processes that are common to humankind over the course of history. Maritime archaeologists are in a unique position to examine cultural systems and social processes from the primary point of social interaction – the port. The harbor at Antioch is such a point, a place where the examination of piracy and trade may be focused. Looking at Antioch in context with other Mediterranean ports, such as Caesarea Maritima, Paphos, Cosa and Aperlae, helps us perceive the interdependence of these ports in systems of trade and interaction.

100 CHAPTER 6

CONCLUSIONS

The objective of this thesis was to evaluate the presence of piracy in Rough Cilicia through archaeological analyses of artifacts found in the harbor at Antioch. These data may then be interpreted in a historical and anthropological context. Little evidence linked to piracy was identified or recovered, probably because it is inherently difficult to identify piratical behavior using material cultural remains. It is also possible that piracy did not exist on as large a scale as previously believed. The limited quantity of artifacts dating to the Hellenistic period that may be associated with piracy may indicate that Antioch was not a pirate headquarters, and may never have been involved in piracy at all. The evidence that does exist however, strongly supports the commencement of activity in the harbor during the period of pirate occupation and documents a considerable increase in maritime activity during the Late Antique and Byzantine periods, correlating with increases in trade and interaction throughout the entire Mediterranean during this time. Harbor archaeology is an important element of the survey process and historical interpretation because harbors serve as the interface of a society of isolated peoples, in the case of the Rough Cilicians, with the outside world. Interaction with the outside world was chiefly by way of ships, as transportation and trade were most effectively conducted through the use of ships during ancient times. Because of this, a city’s harbor is an important archaeological site for determining systems of cultural interaction through the material record. The Rough Cilicia Maritime Archaeological Project surveyed several harbors in Rough Cilicia during the summer 2004 season, focusing particularly on the harbor at Antioch because of its historical significance. The artifacts documented, recovered and analyzed served as the foundations for archaeological interpretation – a material analysis of ancient history, piracy and rebellion against imperial domination. From data acquired at Antioch, I drew several conclusions: the first evidence of occupation dates to this period, suggesting that the first period of relatively extensive habitation occurred as

101 groups of pirates, or local peoples involved in piratical activity, congregated near the coasts of Rough Cilicia. Based on theoretical models surrounding the value placed on land, these pirates may have come together here in part to defend their homeland against the encroaching Roman Empire, which was rapidly expanding eastward during the intensification of pirate activity. Otherwise, the harbor seems to have been much like those of other small, coastal towns in the Bay of Pamphylia, such as Aperlae in Lycia. Small-scale coastal trading among other small coastal towns in the region was likely the primary mode of social interaction. Because of social and geographical isolation, Rough Cilician towns were largely cut off from the political and cultural activity experienced at larger port cities, such as Caesarea Maritima and Paphos. Settlement size appears to increase first during the Early Roman period and again during the Late Antique and Byzantine periods. This increase in size likely served to lessen the social isolation of Rough Cilicians during this period, as artifacts in the harbor suggest increased shipping and trade. The reduction in quantity of medieval or Ottoman period artifacts in the harbor may suggest a decrease in settlement size or trading activity during this time from the Byzantine period. Though the RCMAP uncovered significant data during the 2004 season, additional research may help further elucidate Rough Cilician social systems. Some logistical difficulties during the field season limited the time spent surveying the harbor and analyzing artifacts. Because the survey itself yielded so many artifacts, it was somewhat difficult to thoroughly document all of them, particularly because artifacts could not be taken out of the region to the university for additional analysis. Further research in the harbor at Antioch may include more systematic artifact analyses, further side-scan surveys and underwater and terrestrial excavations. More thorough artifact analyses, sketches and descriptions may be especially beneficial to further interpretation. Because all artifacts needed to remain in Turkey, crew members had limited time to analyze and sketch artifacts. Some measurements were missed that may have provided more conclusive data, and more full-scale sketches of diagnostic artifacts would have averted this problem as well as provided a more permanent record for off-site analysis.

102 Though archaeologists conducted some side-scan surveys past the 15-20 m depth contour, further surveys in deeper water may yield evidence of larger ships that navigated near the harbor, either for trade purposes or for naval battle. Magnetometry may also help to identify iron anchors and other metal anomalies in the harbor that may have been overlooked in side-scan images due to obstructions on the sea floor, such as grasses and large rocks. Underwater excavations may also expose artifacts undetected in surveys, perhaps because of natural processes such as sand cover and rockfalls. And though natural underwater processes do not always operate in the same way as on land, one may imagine that the earlier, Hellenistic period artifacts may be those that are no longer visible from surface survey and are obscured by the seafloor. Further terrestrial surveys, and perhaps excavations, may also have yielded architectural remains, other evidence of pirate occupation and help to determine the spatial organization of the settlement. Production centers particularly may help archaeologists determine the level of interaction in trade networks, as would other buildings related to shipping activity, such as shipsheds and warehouses. Off-site, further lead stock analyses may result in an expanded wooden anchor typology, because of the unique, single-holed Type IV lead stock (WA2) found at Antioch. With current and future data and analyses, integrated with anthropological theory, an image of the culture of Rough Cilicians has begun to emerge. While Antioch’s network may have primarily included other small towns, its place in the larger system of Mediterranean cultural interaction is understood through theories rooted in systems theory, such as Horden and Purcell’s model of connectivity. This model strives to explain systems of interaction within the Mediterranean without economic or environmental determinism, unlike Wallerstein’s (1974) and Braudel’s (1972) models. It is oftentimes difficult to explain and understand the complexities of human society without theories that determine one social element as a primary motivator. Yet as Graeber (2001) notes, we should respect these complexities and integrate them into anthropological theory. Perhaps this can begin to be accomplished by not underestimating the inherent intricacies within society and their potential power to affect change. The use of other social scientific data and parallel case studies also help to elucidate the social processes at work in this region over time, and perhaps processes common to humankind over the course of

103 history. In this example from Antioch, the combination of archaeological data with those of the other social sciences work to create a deeper understanding of social history.

104 APPENDIX A

CATALOG OF CERAMIC ASSEMBLAGE

Shipping Jar Sherds (Diagnostic Artifacts)

C1 AC 003 Fig. A.1. H. 0.242; w. 0.221; th. 0.018. Fragmentary shipping jar, upper body missing. 1 handle, mouth, neck and parts of shoulder. No firing problems, residue on interior. Very thick, reddish fabric, iron stained on part that was buried (7.5YR 6/6). Tentatively classified as a Will Type 10 shipping jar, dated to the second to first centuries BCE. Located in the eastern bay.

C2 AC 004 Fig. A.2. H. 0.275; w. 0.184; th. 0.011. Zemer 41 pinch handle shipping jar. Thick layer of pitch on interior. Fairly smooth texture, few gritty inclusions. Light yellowish brown color (Munsell 10YR 6/4). Classified as a Zemer 41 shipping jar, dated to the second and third centuries CE. Located in the eastern bay.

C3 AC 005A,B Fig. A.3. Shipping jar sherds, including handles, mouth and parts of body. Some parts heavily concreted, with bits of rock attached. Body sherd: h. ?; w. 0.138; th. 0.0074. Distinct combing, narrowing near bottom. Somewhat rough fabric with medium to small gritty inclusions. (Munsell 5YR 5/6). Handle fragments: h. 0.116; w. 0.288; th. 0.015 narrowing to 0.006. May be from a different shipping jar, clay color and texture different from associated body sherd. Semi-smooth fabric with fine, gritty inclusions. Grayish in color (Munsell 10YR 6/2). Tentatively classified as a LRA 1 shipping jar, dated to the 4th – 7th c. CE. Located in the central bay.

C4 AC 006 Fig. A.4. H. 0.188; w. 0.187; th. 0.01. Shipping jar sherds, one handle piece, parts of mouth and body. Dark reddish brown fabric (Munsell 5YR 5/6), covered in white concretion. Tentatively classified as a Syrian-Palestinian Type 67 shipping jar, dated to the fourth to sixth centuries CE. Located in the central bay.

C5 015E.01 Fig. A.5. H. 0.213; w. 0.163; th. 0.012. Shipping jar sherd, likely shoulder piece. Thin layer of concretion. Smooth, few inclusions, no visible combing (Munsell 5YR 5/8). Tentatively classified as a Syrian-Palestinian type 66 shipping jar, dated to the fourth to sixth centuries CE. Located in the eastern bay.

C6 064.01 Fig. A.5. H. 0.099; w. 0.078; th. 0.014. Shipping jar toe, covered in white concretion. Thick, smooth texture, few inclusions (Munsell 7.5YR 6/6). Tentatively identified as belonging to a Zemer 41 pinch handle jar, dated to the second to third centuries CE. Located in the eastern bay.

C7 064.04 Fig. A.6. H. ?; w. ?; th. 0.01. Shipping jar handle. Small, semi-rough texture with gritty inclusions. (Munsell 10YR 6/6). Tentatively classified as a Syrian- Palestinian Type 67 shipping jar, dated to the fourth to sixth centuries CE. Located in the eastern bay.

105 C8 071.01 H. 0.316; w. 0.147; body th. 0.007; mouth th. 0.011. Shipping jar handle and section of mouth. Smooth fabric, few or no inclusions. Deep reddish brown (Munsell 5YR 5/6). Associated with small rim fragment: h. 0.034; w. 0.056; th. 0.008. Tentatively classified as a Rhodian 95 shipping jar, dated to the early second century CE. Located between the eastern and central bays.

Fig. A.1. C1 (RCMAP). Fig. A.2. C2 (RCMAP). Fig. A.3. C3 (RCMAP).

Fig. A.4. C4 (RCMAP). Fig. A.5. C7 (top); Fig. A.6. C6 (RCMAP). C5 (bottom) (RCMAP).

Fig. A.7. C8 (RCMAP).

106

Shipping Jar Sherds (Lot)

Lot 006

C9 006.01 H. 0.457; w. 0.225; th. 0.008. Large shipping jar sherd. Part of body. Dark reddish brown (Munsell 5YR 5/4). Located in the eastern bay.

C10 006.02 H. 0.09; w. 0.062; th. 0.0085. Eroded shipping jar body sherd with sharp curve towards wider portion. Ridged interior (c. 0.01) and eroded exterior ridging (c. 0.01). Fabric smooth, heavy feeling, micaceous inclusions (Munsell 5YR 6/4). Located in the eastern bay.

C11 006.04 H. 0.11; w. 0.08; th. 0.009, narrows to 0.006. Shipping jar body sherd. Pitch traces on interior. Very dark, appears burned or poorly fired (Munsell 5YR 5/6). Fabric dense with small black inclusions. Located in the eastern bay.

C12 006.05 H. 0.074; w. 0.071; th. 0.008; approx. diameter 0.40. Combing ridges near bottom 0.0048. Shipping jar body sherd, shoulder with very small amount of combing on lowest point. Inclusions, dense fabric (Munsell 5YR 6/6). Located in the eastern bay.

C13 006.06 H. 0.16; w. 0.108; th. 0.073; approx. diameter 0.18; 6% periphery. Shipping jar body sherd. Pitch traces on interior. Heavy ridges on exterior correspond to interior ridges, even wall thickness throughout. Smooth fabric, with inclusions (Munsell 7.5YR 6/6). Located in the eastern bay.

C14 006.08 H. 0.212; w. 0.124; th. 0.0095. Shipping jar sherd, some semi-vertical ridges in interior. Very smooth, few small inclusions. Light orangish-brown (Munsell 7.5YR 6/4). Located in the eastern bay.

C15 006.09 H. 0.083; w. 0.0121; th. 0.008. Possible shipping jar sherd, narrow combing on exterior, curved in toward base or shoulder. Somewhat rough, several gritty inclusions. Light yellowish brown (Munsell 10YR 7/6). Located in the eastern bay. Located in the eastern bay.

C16 006.10 H. 0.148; w. 0.156; th. 0.012. Possible shoulder/base fragment of shipping jar. Some faint combing on curved portion at extreme end. Rough fabric, several gritty inclusions (Munsell 5YR 5/4). Located in the eastern bay.

C17 006.11 H. 0.162; w. 0.195; th. 0.01. Shipping jar sherd. Some ridges on interior. Somewhat rough with gritty inclusions (Munsell 5YR 5/6). Located in the eastern bay.

C18 006.12 H. 0.095; w. 0.153; th. 0.01. Shipping jar sherd, heavily eroded. Light sandy brown (Munsell 7.5YR 7/4). Located in the eastern bay.

107

Lot 011

C19 011.01 H. 0.079; w. 0.096; th. 0.007. Shipping jar sherd, combed, some pitch. Interior has some greenish/yellow bands of either pitch, organic material or glaze. Dark orange fabric (Munsell 7.5YR 5/8). Located in the eastern bay.

C20 011.02 H. 0.097; w. 0.085; th. 0.013. Moderately heavy shipping jar sherd. Interior has several grooves, but do not correspond with front ridging. One diagonal ridge identified along top corner, and another horizontal ridge along bottom. Rough texture, some combing in middle of sherd. Brownish-yellow fabric, some grayish patches (Munsell 7.5YR 6/8). Located in the eastern bay.

C21 011.03 H. 0.093; w. 0.165; th. 0.006. Shipping jar sherd, well defined, raised ridges. Relatively smooth texture, some pitch evident. Dark orange fabric (Munsell 7.5YR 5/8). Located in the eastern bay.

C22 011.04A,B H. 0.095; w. 0.073; th. 0.009. Shipping jar sherd. Some undefined combing, pitch on back. Smooth texture, few inclusions. Exterior very lightly colored, may be an extra layer of slip (Munsell 7.5YR 7/2). Interior and body (Munsell 7.5YR 5/8). Small sherd with pitch h. 0.034; w. 0.037; th. 0.008. Small shipping jar sherd with pitch. Formerly attached to 011.04A. Smooth texture with few small inclusions. Interior light orange (Munsell 7.5YR 8/4). Exterior layer lighter colored (Munsell 7.5YR 7/2). Located in the eastern bay.

Lot 015E

C23 015E.02 H. 0.052; w. 0.109; th. 0.004. Small shipping jar sherd with pitch. Smooth, few inclusions. Some thin bands of combing. Lightly colored (Munsell 7.5YR 7/6). Located in the eastern bay.

C24 015E.03 H. 0.063; w. 0.06; th. 0.007. Small shipping jar sherd with pitch. Some light combing, possibly eroded. Rough texture, some gritty inclusions. Dark orange fabric (Munsell 7.5YR 5/8). Located in the eastern bay.

C25 015E. 04 H. 0.117; w. 0.123; th. 0.011. Shipping jar sherd. Top rounded, bottom has wide angle like it may have flattened out. Some barely evident combing. Smooth texture, few inclusions (Munsell 5YR 5/6). Located in the eastern bay.

C26 015E.05 H. 0.0512; w. 0.046; th. 0.006. Small, thin shipping jar sherd. Fine, narrow combing. Smooth texture, few or no inclusions. Yellowish-brown (Munsell 7.5YR 7/6). Located in the eastern bay.

108 C27 015E.06 H. 0.392; w. 0.22; th. 0.2; approx. diameter 0.32. Very large, thick shipping jar sherd. Curved. Somewhat smooth, few inclusions. Light orange/brownish yellow coloring (Munsell 7.5YR 6/6). Located in the eastern bay. Lot 020

C28 020.01 H. 0.148; w. 0.107; th. 0.011. Moderately heavy shipping jar sherd, thick layer of pitch on interior. Moderate frequency of inclusions, somewhat rough texture. Evidence of light combing. Light color (Munsell 7.5YR 7/3). Located in the eastern bay.

Lot 029

C29 029.01 H. 0.038; w. 0.04; th. 0.01 narrows to 0.006. Shipping jar body sherd, ridged interior. Exterior worn and eroded. Fabric light, well mixed. No inclusions (Munsell 7.5YR 7/4). Located in the eastern bay.

C30 029.03 H. 0.064; w. 0.095; th. 0.023. Shipping jar sherd, possibly shoulder piece. Thick, heavy ridge above eroded area. Orange fabric (Munsell 7.5YR 5/8) with yellow-brown exterior (7.5YR 6/6). Located in the eastern bay.

Lot 061

C31 061.01 H. ? w. 0.109; th. 0.028. Shipping jar handle fragment. Somewhat rough texture, few inclusions. Light orange (Munsell 7.5YR 4/4). Located in the eastern bay.

Lot 064

C32 064.02 H. 0.114; w. 0.099; th. 0.01. Shipping jar sherd with irregularly shaped balls of fired clay on interior. Pitch remaining. Very smooth, some small gritty inclusions. No combing evident. Light orange fabric (Munsell 7.5YR 7/4). Located in the eastern bay.

C33 064.03 H. 0.159; w. 0.198; th. 0.018. Very thick shipping jar sherd. Curved, faint, circular lines on interior. Smooth texture, few or no inclusions. (Munsell 7.5YR 6/6). Located in the eastern bay.

C34 064.05 H. 0.18; w. 0.109; th. 0.01. Shipping jar sherd with pitch. Very smooth interior, some ridges visible. Smooth texture throughout, few small inclusions. (Munsell 7.5YR 6/6). Located in the eastern bay.

C35 064.06 H. 0.089; w. 0.124; th. 0.01. Shipping jar sherd with thick layer of pitch on interior. Rough texture, some gritty inclusions. (Munsell 7.5YR 6/6). Located in the eastern bay.

109 Lot 071

C36 071.02 Shipping jar rim fragments. Smooth fabric, no inclusions. Dark orange (Munsell 2.5YR 4/6). Located between the eastern and central bays.

Cookware (Lot)

C37 006.03 H. 0.149; w. 0.088; th. 0.004; approx. diameter 0.22. Cooking pot, basal sherd. Exterior has a heavy carbon layer. Fabric light, fine with inclusions. Located in the eastern bay.

Coarseware (Lot)

C38 029.02 H. 0.05; w. 0.024; th. 0.0035; approx. diameter 0.3. Small, fine, red coarseware sherd. Fabric light, pitted (Munsell 5YR 5/6). Located in the eastern bay.

Tiling (Lot)

C39 015E.07 H. 0.206; w. 0.155; th. 0.021. Possible tile piece. No combing. Rough, gritty inclusions. Orangish-red (Munsell 7.5YR 7/8). Located in the eastern bay.

Ceramic Scatter Areas (by Lot)

075.01 Shipping jar sherds. 2 jar sherds with lug handles, heavily concreted. Not recovered, no measurement data. Located in the central bay.

083.01 Shipping jar head, arm and shoulder, body sherds. Not recovered, no measurement data. Located in the central bay.

099.01 Shipping jar sherds, concreted to rocks. Not recovered, no measurement data. Located in the western bay.

080.01 Sherd scatter, several sites within 7-8 meters. Heavily concreted, no sherds recovered. Located in western bay.

081.01 Ceramic collection, many large body fragments. Heavily concreted, no sherds recovered. Located in western bay.

128.01 Ceramic collection, large sherds. Heavily concreted, no sherds recovered. Located in central bay.

110

Table 8. Catalog of Ceramic Assemblage Catalog # Inventory # Artifact Location Description Munsell # Measurements

Diagnostic Artifacts C1 AC 003 shipping jar sherds E bay 1 handle, mouth, neck, shoulder parts; thick 7.5YR 6/6 h. 0.242; w. 0.221; th. 0.018 pinch handle shipping C2 AC 004 jar E bay thick interior pitch layer 10YR 6/4 h. 0.275; w. 0.184; th. 0.011 body sherd, distinct combing; heavily C3 AC 005A shipping jar sherds C bay concreted 5YR 5/6 h. ?; w. 0.138; th. 0.0074 AC 005B shipping jar sherds C bay handles, mouth; heavily concreted 10YR 6/2 h. 0.116; w. 0.288; th. 0.006 - 0.015 C4 AC 006 shipping jar sherds C bay heavily concreted; body, handle, mouth pieces 5YR 5/6 h. 0.188; w. 0.187; th. 0.01 C5 015E.01 shipping jar sherd E bay likely shoulder piece; thin layer of concretion 5YR 5/8 h. 0.213; w. 0.163; th. 0.012 pinch handle shipping C6 064.01 jar toe E bay covered in white concretion 7.5YR 6/6 h. 0.1; w. 0.078; th. 0.014 C7 064.04 shipping jar sherd E bay handle piece 10 YR 6/6 h. ? ; w. ?; th. 0.01 C8 071.01 shipping jar sherd E/C bay handle and mouth section 5YR 5/6 h. 0.316; w. 0.147; th. 0.007 - 0.01

Shipping Jar Sherds C9 006.01 shipping jar sherd E bay lg. body sherd 5YR 5/4 h. 0.457; w. 0.225; th. 0.008 body sherd; curved; interior and exterior C10 006.02 shipping jar sherd E bay ridging 5YR 6/4 h. 0.09; w. 0.062; th. 0.009 C11 006.04 shipping jar sherd E bay pitch traces on interior; burned or poorly fired 5YR 5/6 h. 0.11; w. 0.08; th. 0.009-0.006 C12 006.05 shipping jar sherd E bay shoulder piece; combing near base 5YR 6/6 h. 0.074; w. 0.071; th. 0.008 C13 006.06 shipping jar sherd E bay pitch traces on interior; heavy exterior ridging 7.5YR 6/6 h. 0.16; w. 0.108; th. 0.073 C14 006.08 shipping jar sherd E bay semi-vertical interior ridging 7.5YR 6/4 h. 0.212; w. 0.124; th. 0.01 body sherd; curved; narrow combing on C15 006.09 shipping jar sherd E bay interior 10YR 7/6 h. 0.083; w. 0.012; th. 0.008 C16 006.10 shipping jar sherd E bay possible shoulder/base piece; faint combing 5YR 5/4 h. 0.148; w. 0.156; th. 0.012 C17 006.11 shipping jar sherd E bay some interior ridging 5YR 5/6 h. 0.162; w. 0.195; th. 0.01 C18 006. 12 shipping jar sherd E bay heavily eroded 7.5YR 7/4 h. 0.095; w. 0.153; th. 0.01

111 Table 9. Catalog of Ceramic Assemblage, continued. Catalog # Inventory # Artifact Location Description Munsell # Measurements

Shipping Jar Sherds C19 011.01 shipping jar sherd E bay bands of pitch or glaze on exterior; combing 7.5YR 5/8 h. 0.079; w. 0.096; th. 0.007 C20 011.02 shipping jar sherd E bay moderately heavy; exterior ridging 7.5YR 6/8 h. 0.097; w. 0.085; th. 0.013 C21 011.03 shipping jar sherd E bay well defined, raised ridges 7.5YR 5/8 h. 0.093; w. 0.165; th. 0.006 7.5YR 5/8; 7.5YR C22 011.04A shipping jar sherd E bay some undefined combing; pitch on interior 7/2 h. 0.095; w. 0.073; th. 0.009 7.5YR 8/4; 7.5YR 011.04B shipping jar sherd E bay small with pitch; formerly attached to 011.04A 7/2 h. 0.034; w. 0.037; th. 0.008

C23 015E.02 shipping jar sherd E bay small, with pitch 7.5YR 7/6 h. 0.052; w. 0.109; th. 0.004 small, with pitch; light combing, possibly C24 015E.03 shipping jar sherd E bay eroded 7.5YR 5/8 h. 0.063; w. 0.06; th. 0.007 C25 015E.04 shipping jar sherd E bay rounded; anglular; evident combing 5YR 5/6 h. 0.117; w. 0.123; th. 0.011 C26 015E.05 shipping jar sherd E bay small, thin; fine, narrow combing 7.5YR 7/6 h. 0.052; w. 0.046; th. 0.006 C27 015E.06 shipping jar sherd E bay very large, thick; curved 7.5YR 6/6 h. 0.392; w. 0.22; th. 0.2; dia. 0.32

C28 020.01 shipping jar sherd E bay moderately heavy; thick pitch layer on interior 7.5YR 7/3 h. 0.148; w. 0.107; th. 0.011

C29 029.01 shipping jar sherd E bay body sherd; ridged interior 7.5YR 7/4 h. 0.038; w. 0.04; th. 0.01 7.5YR 5/8; 7.5YR C30 029.03 shipping jar sherd E bay possible sherd piece; thick, heavy ridging 6/6 h. 0.064; w. 0.095; th. 0.023

C31 061.01 shipping jar sherd E bay handle fragment 7.5YR 4/4 h. ?; w. 0.109; th. 0.028

C32 064.02 shipping jar sherd E bay balls of fired clay on interior; pitch remaining 7.5YR 7/4 h. 0.114; w. 0.099; th. 0.01 very thick; curved, faint circular lines on C33 064.03 shipping jar sherd E bay interior 7.5YR 6/6 h. 0.159; w. 0.198; th. 0.018 C34 064.05 shipping jar sherd E bay smooth interior; ridges visible 7.5YR 6/6 h. 0.18; w. 0.109; th. 0.01 C35 064.06 shipping jar sherd E bay thick layer of pitch on interior 7.5YR 6/6 h. 0.089; w. 0.124; th. 0.01

C36 071.02 shipping jar sherds E/C bay rim fragments 2.5YR 4/6 no data

112 Table 10. Catalog of Ceramic Assemblage, continued. Catalog # Inventory # Artifact Location Description Munsell # Measurements

Cookware C37 006.03 cooking pot E bay basal sherd; heavy carbon layer on exterior h. 0.149; w. 0.088; th. 0.004

Coarseware C38 029.02 coarseware sherd E bay small, fine 5YR 5/6 h. 0.05; w. 0.024; th. 0.004

Tiling C39 015E.07 tile piece E bay flat; no combing 7.5YR 7/8 h. 0.206; w. 0.155; th. 0.021

Ceramic Scatter Areas 075.01 shipping jar sherds C bay 2 jar sherds with lug handles, heavily concreted not recovered no data several sites within 7-8 meters, heavily 080.01 ceramic sherd scatter W bay concreted not recovered no data 081.01 ceramic collection W bay many large body fragments, heavily concreted not recovered no data shipping jar head, arm and shoulder, body 083.01 shipping jar sherds C bay sherds not recovered no data 099.01 shipping jar sherds W bay concreted to rocks not recovered no data 128.01 ceramic collection C bay large sherds, heavily concreted not recovered no data

113 APPENDIX B

CATALOG OF IRON AND WOODEN ANCHOR ASSEMBLAGE

Iron Anchor Remains2

V-Shaped Iron Anchors

IA1 078 Fig. B.1. L. 1.21; arm l. 0.29; arm w. 0.20; shank diameter 0.09. Heavily concreted, possibly V-shaped iron anchor. Dated to the Early Roman period. Located in the eastern bay.

Bow-Shaped Iron Anchors

IA2 060 Fig. B.2. L. 1.15; w. 0.39. Shank, arm visible. Dated to c. 50 BCE – 125 CE. Located in the western bay.

T-Shaped Iron Anchors

IA3 010 Fig. B.3. L. 0.94; w. 0.62; shank diameter 0.05; arm diameter 0.07; arm l. approx. 0.30; fluke l. 0.21. Dated to the fifth to seventh centuries CE. Located in eastern bay at a depth of 9 m.

IA4 020 Fig. B.4. L. 1.86; w. 1.18; ring diameter 0.24. Heavily concreted T-shaped iron anchor, associated with recovered shipping jar and iron object of similar length, possibly the stock. Dated to the fifth to seventh centuries CE. Located in the eastern bay.

IA5 021 Fig. B.5. L. 2.1; fluke l. 0.17; arm l. 0.28; arm th. near shank 0.18; head w. 0.15; shank diameter 0.14. Dated to the fifth to seventh centuries CE. Located in the eastern bay.

IA6 022 Fig. B.6. L. 0.42; w. 0.82. Arm fragments, small part of shank remaining. Dated to the fifth to seventh centuries CE. Located in the eastern bay.

IA7 061 Fig. B.7. L. 1.25; w. 0.76. Broken anchor shank. Dated to the fifth to seventh centuries CE. Located in the eastern bay.

IA8 072 Fig. B.8. L. 1.53; shank diameter 0.12; arm l. 0.29. Heavily concreted iron T-shaped anchor with ring. Dated to the fifth to seventh centuries CE. Located in the eastern bay.

2 All measurements include concretion unless otherwise noted.

114 IA9 079.2 L. 1.12; w. 0.65; ring diameter 0.24; shank diameter 0.16. T-shaped iron anchor, concreted upright to a rock. Dated to the fifth to seventh centuries CE. Located in the western bay at a depth of 13.3 m.

Y-Shaped Iron Anchors

IA10 082 Fig. B.9. L. 1.15; w. 1.18; fluke l. 0.25; arm and shank diameter 0.15; ring diameter 0.12. Y-shaped iron anchor. Dated to 950 – 1025 CE. Located in the western bay.

Iron Grapnel Anchors

IA 11 014 Fig. B.10. L. 0.78; w. 0.51. 4 arms visible. Dated to the Early Modern period. Located in eastern bay.

IA12 076 Fig. B.11. L. 1.10; w. 0.73. Broken, arm and shank visible. Dated to the Early Modern period. Located in the western bay.

IA13 079.1 Fig. B.12. L. 1.72; w. 0.90; shank diameter 0.18. Iron grapnel anchor with ring, associated with three other iron anchors. Dated to the Early Modern period. Located in the western bay.

IA14 079.3 Fig. B.13. L. 1.18; w. 0.50. Anchor with ring. Dated to the Early Modern period. Located in the western bay.

IA15 079.4 Fig. B.14. L. 1.12; w. 0.65. Dated to the Early Modern period. Located in the western bay.

IA16 120.1 Fig. B.15. L. 0.98; w. 0.56. Fragmented and concreted. Associated with iron anchor stock (IA17). Dated to the Early Modern period. Located in the central bay.

Type Undetermined (Iron Anchor Fragments)

IA17 120.2 Fig. B.16. L. 0.67. Iron anchor stock. Associated with grapnel anchor IA16. Located in central bay.

IA18 029 No measurement data. Heavily concreted. Located in eastern bay.

IA19 081 Fig. B.17. L. 0.73; w. 0.10. Oval shank concretion, hollow inside. Located in western bay.

IA20 095 Fig. B.18. L. 0.54; w. 0.07; th. 0.04. Iron anchor shank fragment, concretion. Located in western bay.

115

Fig. B.1. IA1. Fig. B.2. IA2. Fig. B.3. IA3 (RCMAP).

Fig. B.4. IA4 (RCMAP) Fig. B.5. IA5 (RCMAP). Fig. B.6. IA6.

Fig. B.7. IA7. Fig. B.8. IA8. Fig. B.9. IA10 (RCMAP).

116

Fig. B.10. IA11. Fig. B.11. IA12. Fig. B.12. IA13 (RCMAP).

Fig. B.13. IA14. Fig. B.14. IA15. Fig. B.15. IA16.

Fig. B.16. IA17. Fig. B.17. IA19.

117

Fig. B.18. IA20.

Wooden Anchor Remains

Anchor Stocks and Collars

WA1 AC 010 Fig. B.19. L. 0.75; w. 0.041; h. 0.018. Lead anchor stock with ill- defined, eroded stop, two holes, heavily concreted. Dated to 150 BCE – 300 CE. Located in the western bay.

WA2 AC 007 Figs. B.20; B.21. L. 0.63; w. 0.057, th. 0.025; hole diameter 0.012; l. between hole and stop 0.054. Lead anchor stock with stop, one hole. Associated with lead anchor collar WA4 (AC009). Dated to 150 BCE – 300 CE. Located in the western bay.

WA3 087 Fig. B.22. L. 0.87; w. 0.08. Lead anchor stock, two holes, concreted to rock. Dated to 150 BCE – 300 CE. Located in western bay.

WA4 AC 009 Figs. B.21; B.23; B.24. L. 0.356; w. 0.07. Lead anchor collar. In direct association with AC 007, lead anchor stock. Dated to 150 BCE – 300 CE. Located in the western bay.

Fig. B.19. WA1 (RCMAP).

Fig. B.20. WA2 (RCMAP).

118

Fig. B.21. WA2, WA4 (RCMAP).

Fig. B.22. WA3 (RCMAP).

Fig. B.23. WA4 (RCMAP). Fig. B.24. WA4 (RCMAP).

119 Table 11. Catalog of Iron and Wooden Anchors Catalog # Inventory # Artifact Location Description Measurements

V-Shaped Iron Anchors V-shaped anchor stock with IA1 078.0 ring, arm E bay Heavily concreted to rocks l. 1.21; arm l. 0.29; shank w. 0.1

Bow-Shaped Iron Anchors IA2 060.0 Bow - shaped anchor W bay shank, arm visible l. 1.15; w. 0.39

T-Shaped Iron Anchors IA3 010.0 T- shaped anchor and mortar E bay l. 0.94; w. 0.62 IA4 020.0 T-shaped anchor with ring E bay l. 1.86; w. 1.18 IA5 021.0 T-shaped anchor E bay l. 2.1; arm l. 0.28 IA6 022.0 T - shaped anchor E bay arm fragments, small part of shank l. 0.82; w. 0.42 IA7 061.0 T-shaped iron anchor shank E bay broken shank l. 1.25; w. 0.76 IA8 072.0 T-shaped anchor with ring E bay l. 1.53; IA9 079.2 T-shaped anchor W bay with ring, rocky concretions l. 1.12; w. 0.65

Y-Shaped Iron Anchors IA10 082.0 Y-shaped anchor W bay l. 1.15; w. 1.18

120 Table 12. Catalog of Iron and Wooden Anchors, continued. Catalog # Inventory # Artifact Location Description Measurements

Iron Grapnel Anchors IA11 014.0 grapnel anchor E bay 4 arms visible l. 0.78; w. 0.51 IA12 076.0 broken grapnel anchor W bay l. 1.10; arm l. 0.60 IA13 079.1 grapnel anchor W bay l. 1.72; w. 0. 90 IA14 079.3 grapnel anchor W bay looks like a ring-shank but broken l. 1.18; w. 0.50 IA15 079.4 grapnel anchor W bay l. 1.12; w. 0.65 IA16 120.1 grapnel anchor C bay grapnel, broken; assoc. with IA17 l. 0.83

Type Undetermined (Iron) IA17 120.2 iron anchor stock C bay associated with IA16 l. 0.67 IA18 029.0 iron anchor shank fragment E bay no data round, oval shank concretion; hollow IA19 081.0 broken iron shank W bay inside. l. 0.73; w. 0.10 IA20 095.0 iron anchor shank fragment W bay shank concretion l. 0.54; w. 0.07; th. 0.04

Lead Anchor Stocks WA1 AC010 lead stock W bay with eroded stop, 2 holes l. 0.75; w. 0.04 WA2 AC007 lead stock W bay with stop, one hole l. 0.63; w. 0.05 WA3 087.0 lead stock W bay 2 holes, concreted to rock l. 0.87; w. 0.08

Lead Anchor Collars WA4 AC009 lead anchor collar W bay in direct assoc. with AC010 l. 0.36; w. 0.07

121 APPENDIX C

CATALOG OF STONE ANCHORS

Type I

S1 004 Fig. C.1. L. 0.53; w. 0.36; th. 0.05; hole diameter 0.175. Located in eastern section of harbor at a depth of 8 m.

S2 009 Fig. C.2. L. 0.48; w. 0.41; th. 0.14; hole diameter 0.10. Located in eastern section of harbor at a depth of 7.1-7.2 m.

S3 038 Fig. C.3. L. 0.47; w. 0.28; th. 0.09; hole diameter 0.135. Irregular shape, located in eastern section of harbor at a depth of 9 m.

S4 CB3 Fig. C.4. L. 0.61; w. 0.28; th. 0.09; hole diam. 0.011. Long, irregularly shaped stone anchor. Located between the eastern and central bays.

S5 CB4 Fig. C.5. L. 0.70; w. 0.43; hole diam. 0.14. Long, irregularly shaped stone anchor. Located between the eastern and central bays.

S6 CB5 Fig. C.6. L. 0.49; w. 0.39; hole diam. 0.09. Stone anchor, triangular body. Located between the eastern and central bays.

S7 071 Fig. C.7. Triangular shape; 0.73 x 0.66 x 0.53; th. 0.20; hole diameter 0.15. Located between the central bay at a depth of 14 m. Associated with recovered shipping jar handle.

S8 077 Fig. C.8. L. 0.50; w. 0.34; hole diam. 0.15. Long, rectangular stone anchor. Located in the western bay.

Fig. C.1. S1 Fig. C.2. S2 Fig. C.3. S3

122

Fig. C.4. S4. Fig. C.5. S5. Fig. C.6. S6.

Fig. C.7. S7. Fig. C.8. S8.

Type II

S9 011.1 Fig. C.9. L. 0.54; w. 0.33; th. 0.12; hole diameter 0.10. Oblong stone anchor, one tapered end with hole. Located in the eastern bay.

S10 011.2 Fig. C.10. L. 0.40; w. 0.20; th. 0.12; hole diam. 0.08. Oblong, irregularly shaped stone anchor. Located in the eastern bay.

S11 027 Fig. C.11. L. 0.37; 0.22; hole diam. 0.045. Oblong, irregularly shaped stone anchor. Located in the eastern bay.

S12 23.1 Fig. C.12. L. 0.55; w. 0.46; th. 0.25; hole diameter 0.11. Located in eastern section of harbor.

123

Fig. C.9. S9 (RCMAP). Fig. C.10. S10.

Fig. C.11. S11. Fig. C.12. S12.

Type III

S13 001 Fig. C.13. L. 0.33; w. 0.17; th. 0.07; hole diameter 0.05. Round; large, centrally placed hole. Located in eastern bay at a depth of 7 m.

S14 008 Fig. C.14. L. 0.35; w. 0.27; th. 0.16; hole diameter 0.13. Oblong; large, centrally placed hole. Located in eastern bay at a depth of 9 m.

S15 012 Fig. C.15. L. 0.34; w. 0.38; th. 0.17; hole diameter 0.10. Triangular body; large, centrally placed hole. Located in eastern bay at a depth of 6 m.

124

Fig. C.13. S13 (RCMAP). Fig. C.14. S14 (RCMAP).

Fig. C.15. S15.

Type IV

S16 CB1 Fig. C.16. L. 0.30; w. 0.24; hole diam. 0.04. Stone anchor. Small, rounded body; small hole. Located in the central bay.

S17 CB2 Fig. C.17. L. 0.35; w. 0.21; hole diam. 0.03. Stone anchor. Small, triangular body; small hole. Located in the central bay.

S18 CB6 Fig. C.18. L. 025; w. 0.13; hole diam. 0.02, 0.03. Stone anchor. Small, squat body, 2 small, irregularly spaced holes. Located in the central bay.

Fig. C.16. S16. Fig. C.17. S17. Fig. C.18. S18.

125

Type V

S19 015 Fig. C.19. L. 0.50; w. 0.36; th. 0.06; hole diameters 0.05, 0.04. Two holed stone anchor; located in eastern bay at a depth of 9 m.

S20 23.2 Fig. C.20. L. 0.48; w. 0.33; th. 0.09; hole diameters 0.07, 0.10. Two holed stone anchor, located in eastern bay.

S21 029 Fig. C.21. No measurement data. Two holed stone anchor, located in the eastern bay.

Fig. C.19. S19. Fig. C.20. S20.

Fig. C.21. S21 (RCMAP).

126 Table 13. Catalog of Stone Anchors Catalog # Inventory # Artifact Location Description Measurements

Type I S1 004.0 stone anchor E bay rectangular body, irregularly shaped hole l. 0.53; w. 0.36; th. 0.05; hole diam. 0.175 x 0.05 S2 009.0 stone anchor E bay long, triangular body l. 0.48; w. 0.41; th. 0.14; hole diam. 0.10 S3 038.0 stone anchor C bay irregular shape l. 0.47; w. 0.28; th. 0.09; hole diam. 0.135 S4 CB3 stone anchor E/C bay long, irregular shape l. 0.61; w. 0.28; th. 0.09; hole diam. 0.011 S5 CB4 stone anchor E/C bay long, irregular shape l. 0.70; w. 0.43; hole diam. 0.14 S6 CB5 stone anchor E/C bay long, triangular body l. 0.49; w. 0.39; hole diam. 0.09 S7 071.0 stone anchor C bay long, triangular body 0.73x0.66x0.53; th. 0.20 S8 077.0 stone anchor W bay long, rectangular body l. 0.50; w. 0.34; hole diam. 0.15

Type II S9 011.1 stone anchor E bay oblong, tapered end with hole l. 0.54; w. 0.33; th. 0.12; hole diam. 0.1 S10 011.2 stone anchor E bay oblong, irregularly shaped body l. 0.40; w. 0.20; th. 0.12; hole diam. 0.08 S11 027.0 stone anchor E bay oblong, irregularly shaped body l. 0.37; w. 0.22; hole diam. 0.045 S12 023.1 stone anchor E bay long, irregularly shaped body l. 0.55; w. 0.48; th. 0.21; hole diam. 0.11

Type III S13 001.0 stone anchor E bay round; centrally placed hole l. 0.37; w. 0.33; th. 0.07; hole diam. 0.05 S14 008.0 stone anchor E bay oblong; large, centrally placed hole l. 0.35; w. 0.27; th. 0.16; hole diam. 0.13 triangular body; large, centrally placed S15 012.0 stone anchor E bay hole l. 0.34; w. 0.38; th. 0.17; hole diam. 0.10

Type IV S16 CB1 stone anchor C bay small, rounded body; small hole l. 0.30; w. 0.24; hole diam. 0.04 S17 CB2 stone anchor C bay small, rounded body; small hole l. 0.35; w. 0.21; hole diam. 0.03 S18 CB6 stone anchor C bay small, squat body, 2 small holes l. 0.25; w. 0.13; hole diam. 0.02; 0.03

127 Table 14. Catalog of Stone Anchors, continued. Catalog # Inventory # Artifact Location Description Measurements

Type V S19 015.0 stone anchor E bay 2 holes l. 0.50; w. 0.36; th. 0.06; hole diam. 0.05, 0.04 S20 023.2 stone anchor E bay 2 holes l. 0.49; w. 0.33; th. 0.09; hole diam. 0.07; 0.10 S21 029.0 stone anchor E bay 2 holes no data

128 Table 15. Catalog of Miscellaneous Finds Catalog # Inventory # Artifact Location Description Measurements

M1 AC 001 bronze horse E bay kneeling horse socket; winged l. 0.222; h. 0.13; w. 0.07; wing span 0.075 M2 AC 002 lead object E bay 2 lead disks with iron banding h. 0.029; w. 0.117; diam. 0.12 M3 AC 008 lead object E bay trapezoidal l. 0.176; h. 0.068; M4 AC 011 limestone larnake E bay rectangular; exterior decoration l. 0.458; w. 0.28; h. 0.199 M5 AC 013 copper nails, lead sheathing E bay M6 013.0 column fragment E bay granite M7 017.0 mooring stone E bay lg. rock with lg. hole M8 026.0 mooring stone E bay possible mooring point M9 036.0 mortar E bay stone exterior diam. 0.38; wall th. 0.04

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140

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

Meredith Marten was born and raised in Michigan, and received her BA in Anthropology from Michigan State University in 2002. She has participated in several archaeological projects, including work with both French and Spanish mission sites and a former British colony in the Caribbean in addition to maritime survey work in Turkey for this thesis project. She received her MA in Anthropology from Florida State University in 2005.

141