As time passed, the health of the soldiery at Actium began to deteriorate. The almost nonexistent tides of the Mediterranean failed to wash away the detritus of a large army and fleet occupying a crowded space with few facilities. During the long, hot summer months an epidemic ravaged Antony’s camp—perhaps dysentery or malaria. Men died and morale fell.
After weeks of squabbling about what to do next, Antony led a determined attempt to break out by land, probably in early August. At the same time his fleet, commanded by Sosius, sailed under cover of a thick mist and routed the small enemy squadron that was blockading the exit from the straits of Actium. The plan was probably for Sosius to meet up with Antony and his land forces at some convenient point on the coast.
Unfortunately for Antony, by pure chance Agrippa arrived on the scene with the rest of the fleet and drove Sosius back into harbor. Antony then engineered another cavalry engagement (perhaps by attacking Octavian’s water supply again), but was repulsed. This precipitated the defection of King Amyntas of Galatia with two thousand cavalry.
Loyalty everywhere decayed. Client kings and Roman senators alike followed in Amyntas’ footsteps, slipping away to the camp on the hill at Mikhalitzi. The most wounding betrayal was that of Domitius Ahenobarbus. Suffering from a fever (doubtless he was infected by the sickness raging at Actium), he put out in a small boat and sailed the few miles north to the bay of Comaros. According to Plutarch, “Antony, although he was deeply grieved by his friend’s desertion, sent not only his baggage but all his friends and servants after him, whereupon Domitius died almost immediately, as if he longed to repent as soon as his treachery and disloyalty became public knowledge.”
Antony’s magnanimity was short-lived, however; as usual when rattled, he grew cruel. He caught two distinguished deserters and,
Despite these displays of self-indulgence, Antony understood that something had to be done, and soon, if disaster was to be averted. He withdrew his troops from the northern promontory back to Actium and called a council of war.
Looking down from his camp, Octavian saw smoke billowing up from the anchorage where the Actium channel turned left and then right before entering the Ambracian Gulf. There Antony’s fleet was based. Flames were consuming the smaller galleys and all the transports.
It was obvious what was happening. Antony was preparing for an engagement of some kind. He did not have enough oarsmen to man the entire fleet, and, so that they might not fall into the hands of the enemy, was destroying the ships he could not use. It looked as if the final encounter was approaching.
A deserter named Dellius (the man who had advised Cleopatra on how to attract Antony) gave Octavian a full account of the enemy’s intentions: Antony meant to attempt a breakout by sea. This was not a stupid decision. Taking a demoralized army through the steep passes of the Pindos mountains would be no easy task, whereas it was a reasonable bet that a good part of the fleet would escape, manned with the pick of Antony’s legionaries. They could join the eleven or twelve legions in Egypt and Cyrenaica, and live to fight another day. So it might be hoped.
The question facing Octavian—or, more precisely, Agrippa—was how to react. In a sense, the issue was largely moot. What was about to happen might look and sound like a battle, but in truth (they told themselves) the war’s outcome had already been decided. Most people now knew this, and were acting accordingly; hence the avalanche of high-level desertions. Whether Antony and Cleopatra made their getaway mattered little; to catch and kill them on the spot would save time, that was all.
History does not record exactly what Octavian and Agrippa planned to do, but we can make a good guess from the facts of the situation and what we know actually took place. They lost no time deciding that if Antony offered battle at or near the mouth of the Actium strait, they would hold back. This was for the obvious reason that they would lose the advantage of numerical superiority if they fought in confined waters.