In the National Maritime Museum in Haifa, mounted on a low plinth against a red wall, sits the most significant surviving object from ancient naval warfare: the Atlit Ram, a bronze naval ram recovered by divers off the Israeli coast in 1980, dated to approximately 103–102 BCE, and identified on the basis of its construction and the coins found within it as probably belonging to the fleet of Ptolemy IX Soter II of Egypt. It is roughly 2.3 meters long and weighs over 465 kilograms. It is the only complete ancient naval ram in existence, and looking at it — the three horizontal blades converging at the forward point, the decorated upper surface with its trident and eagle motifs, the massive bronze casting that absorbed decades of seawater and still holds its shape — makes abstract discussions of ancient naval warfare immediately concrete. This is the weapon. Everything else is description.

In the National Maritime Museum in Haifa, a reproduction of a Roman maritime mosaic hangs above a scale model of a Roman grain ship. The mosaic — a copy of the type found decorating the floors of maritime collegia and wealthy houses at Ostia and other Roman port cities — shows the sea as Romans imagined it: dense with fish and marine creatures, alive with the visual abundance that the Mediterranean provided, a merchant vessel moving through a world of tuna, dolphins, an octopus, a whale. The sea in Roman mosaic art is not threatening; it is productive, teeming, the source of food and commerce and the medium through which the empire connected its parts. Below the mosaic, the grain ship model shows the vessel that made this connection real: broad-hulled, square-sailed, designed not for speed but for capacity, the workhorse of the most important supply chain in the ancient world.