On the morning of the memorable 7th of October the Christian fleet
weighed anchor for Lepanto, at two hours before dawn. The wind was
light, but adverse, and oars had to be used. At sunrise they came up
with a group of rocky islets which form the northern cape of the
Gulf of Lepanto. The rowers labored hard at the oars, while all others
strained their eyes for the first glimpse of the great Moslem fleet. At
length they were descried from the masthead of the _Real_, and almost
at the same moment by Andrew Doria, who commanded on the right.
[Illustration: BATTLE OF LEPANTO.]
Don John ordered his pennon to be displayed, unfurled the banner of the
Christian League, and fired a gun, the preconcerted signal for battle.
This was answered by an exultant shout from all the ships.
The principal captains now came on board the _Real_, to receive their
final orders; and a few, even then, doubted the propriety of fighting,
but Don John sternly said, “Gentlemen, this is the time for battle,
and not for counsel!” and the armada was at once deployed in fighting
array, according to orders previously issued.
When ready for battle the Christian force had a front of three miles.
On the extreme right was Doria, whose name was justly held in terror
by the Moslem, with sixty-four galleys. In the centre, consisting of
sixty-three galleys, was Don John, supported on one side by Colonna,
and on the other by Veniero. In his rear was the Grand Commander
Requesens, his former tutor in military matters. The left wing was
commanded by Barberigo, a Venetian noble, who was to keep his vessels
as near the Ætolian coast as the rocks and shoals would permit, to
prevent his wing being turned by the enemy.
The reserve, of thirty-five galleys, was commanded by the Marquis of
Santa Cruz, a man of known courage and conduct, who had orders to act
in any quarter where he thought his aid most needed.
The smaller craft took little part in the battle, the action being
fought almost entirely by the galleys.
Each commander was to take space enough for manœuvring, yet to keep
so close as to prevent the enemy from piercing the line. Each was to
single out his adversary, close with him, and board as soon as possible.
Don John had the beak of his galley cut away; so little did he rely
upon an instrument once, and for so long, considered formidable.
By this time galleys mounted guns upon their prows, and beaks were
beginning to fall out of use. It is said that many commanders of the
allies followed Don John’s example.
The Ottoman fleet weighed and came out to the battle. But they came
on slowly, as the wind had suddenly shifted and was now against them,
while, as the day advanced, the sun, which had been in the faces of the
Allies, shone in those of the Moslem; and both these natural phenomena
were hailed by the Christians as an evidence of divine interposition.
The Turkish armament proved to be even greater in number than had been
anticipated by the Christians, consisting of nearly two hundred and
fifty “royal galleys,” most of them of the largest class; and a number
of smaller vessels in the rear, which, however, like the similar ones
of the Allies, do not appear to have come much into action.
The number of the Turks, including rowers, is said to have been
120,000. As we have said, the rowers were principally Christian slaves,
with some blacks and criminals.
As was usual with the Turks, their order of battle was crescentic, and,
being more numerous than the Allies, they occupied a wider space than
the straight alignment of the Christians.
As their formidable and magnificent array advanced, the moving sun
shone upon gaudy paint and gilded prows, thousands of pennons,
polished cimeters and head pieces, and the jeweled turbans of the
Pachas, and other chief men.
In the centre of their long line, and opposite to Don John, was a huge
galley, bearing the Turkish commander, Ali Pasha.
His fleet was commanded on the right by the Viceroy of Egypt, a wary
but courageous leader. His left was led by Uluch Ali, a Calabrian
renegade and Dey of Algiers, noted as a successful corsair, who had
made more Christian slaves than all the rest beside.
Ali was, like Don John, young and ambitious, and had refused to listen
to any counsels looking toward declining battle on that day. Selim had
sent him to fight, and he was determined to do so; although the prudent
Viceroy of Egypt expressed some doubts of success.
Ali found the Christian fleet more numerous than he had supposed, and
at first he did not perceive their left wing, which was hidden by the
Ætolian shore.
When he saw the Christian line in its full extent, it is said that he
faltered for a moment, but only for a moment, for he at once urged on
the rowers to close with the enemy, and spoke of the prospects of the
engagement, to those about him, in confident terms.
It is said that Ali was of humane disposition, and that he promised
the Christian slaves that, if by their exertions he won the day, they
should all have their freedom.
As he drew near the Allies, Ali changed his order of battle, separating
his wings from the centre, to correspond to the Christian formation.
He also fired a challenge gun, before he came within shot. This was
answered by Don John, and a second one was promptly replied to from the
Christian flag-ship.
The fleets now rapidly neared each other. Men held their breath, and
nerved themselves for the death grapple, and a perfect silence reigned,
broken only by the plash of the huge oars, while the light breeze
rippled the smiling blue waters.
Just about noon this beautiful scene, a perfect pageant, was broken in
upon by the fierce yells of the Turks, the war cry with which they were
accustomed to join battle.
At this moment, as if by contrast, every fighting man of the Christians
fell upon his knee, as did Don John himself, and prayed the Almighty
to be with his own that day. Absolution was then given by the priests,
which were in each ship, and the men stood up, braced for the contest.
When the foremost Turkish vessels had come within cannon shot, they
opened fire; and this ran along their line as they advanced, without
cessation. The Christian kettle-drums and trumpets sounded in reply,
with a general discharge of all the guns which would bear.
Don John had caused the galleasses, the large, high, unwieldy war
ships, to be towed about half a mile ahead of his fleet, where they
could intercept the advance of the Turks.
As the latter came abreast of them, the galleasses delivered their
broadsides, with terrible effect. Ali caused his galleys to diverge,
and pass these vessels, which were so high and formidable that the
Turks did not attempt to board them.
Their heavy guns caused some damage and confusion in the Pacha’s line
of battle, but this appears to have been the only part they took in the
engagement, as they were too unwieldy to be brought up again.
The real action began on the Allies’ left wing, which the Viceroy
of Egypt was very desirous of turning. But the Venetian admiral, to
prevent that very thing, had closed well in with the coast. The
Viceroy, however, better acquainted with the soundings, saw that there
was room for him to pass, and dashed by, thereby doubling up his enemy.
Thus placed between two fires, the Christian left fought at very great
disadvantage. Many galleys were soon sunk, and several more were
captured by the Turks.
Barberigo, dashing into the heat of the fight, was wounded in the eye,
by an arrow, and was borne below. But his Venetians continued the fight
with unabated courage and fury, fighting for revenge, as well as for
glory.
On the extreme Christian right a similar movement was attempted by
Uluch Ali. With superior numbers he attempted to turn that wing; but
here he met that experienced and valiant seaman, Andrew Doria, who
foresaw the movement of Uluch, and promptly defeated it. The two best
seamen of the Mediterranean were here brought face to face. Doria, to
prevent being surrounded, extended his line so far to the right that
Don John was obliged to caution him not to expose the centre. Indeed,
he seriously weakened his own line, and the experienced Uluch instantly
detecting it, dashed down, sank several galleys, and captured the
great “Capitana,” of Malta. While the battle thus opened badly for the
Allies, on both wings, Don John led his division forward; at first with
indifferent success. His own chief object was to encounter Ali Pasha,
and the Turkish commander was also intent upon meeting him.
Their respective galleys were easily distinguished, from their size
and rich decoration, besides displaying, the one the great Ottoman
standard, the other the holy banner of the League.
The Ottoman standard was held to be very sacred. It was emblazoned in
gold, with texts from the Koran, and had the name of Allah repeated
28,900 times. The Sultans had passed it from father to son, ever since
the formation of the dynasty, and it was never seen unless the Grand
Signior or his lieutenant was in the field.
Both commanders urged forward their galleys, which soon shot ahead
of the lines, and the two closed with a fearful shock, so powerful
that the Pacha’s, which was the largest, was thrown upon that of his
antagonist so far that the prow reached the fourth bench of Don John’s
rowers.
As soon as those on board the two vessels recovered from the shock, the
carnage commenced.
Don John had three hundred Spanish arquebusiers, the flower of the
infantry. Ali had three hundred picked janizaries, and was followed by
a small vessel with two hundred more. He had also one hundred archers
on board; the bow being still much in use among the Turks.
The Pasha opened a terrible fire, which was returned with even greater
spirit by the Spaniards. The latter had bulwarks, which the Mussulmen
had not; and so the crowded janizaries presented an easy mark. Still,
they filled up the gaps from the reserve in the small vessel, and the
Spaniards wasted away under their fire. For a long time it was doubtful
to which side victory would incline.
This conflict was now complicated by the entrance of others. The
bravest on each side came to the aid of the two commanders, and each
leader at times found himself assailed by several enemies. They never
lost sight of each other, however, and after beating off lesser
assailants, returned to the single combat.
The fight was now general, and the movements of both fleets obscured by
clouds of smoke. Separate detachments desperately engaged each other,
without regard to what was going on in other quarters; and there were
few of the combinations and manœuvers of a great naval battle.
The galleys grappled each other, and soldiers, sailors and galley
slaves fought, hand to hand, boarding and repelling boarders, in turn.
There was enormous loss of life; the decks being encumbered with
the dead, and in some ships every man on board was either killed or
wounded. The blood flowed in torrents out of the scuppers, and the
waters of the gulf were stained for miles. Wrecks of vessels encumbered
the sea, with hulls shattered, masts gone, and thousands of wounded and
drowning clinging to spars, and crying vainly for help.
As we have already seen, Barberigo, with the Christian left wing, was
early in sore distress; Barberigo himself being mortally wounded, his
line turned, and several of his galleys being sunk or captured. But the
Venetians, in sheer despair, increased their efforts, and succeeded
in driving off their enemies. In turn they became the assailants, and
boarded Turk after Turk, putting the crews to the sword. They were led
to the assault by a Capuchin friar, crucifix in hand--as were many
other crews.
In some cases the Christian galley slaves of the Turkish vessels broke
their chains and joined their countrymen against their Moslem masters.
The galley of the Viceroy of Egypt was sunk, and he himself was killed
by John Contarini, the Venetians having no mercy for even a drowning
Turkish enemy. The death of their commander spread dismay among his
followers, and that division fled before the Venetians. Those nearest
the land ran on shore, escaping, and leaving their vessels to be
captured, and many perished before they could gain the land. Barberigo
lived to hear the news, and giving thanks, expired in the moment of
victory.
All this time the combat between the two commanders-in-chief had been
going on, with an incessant blaze of great guns and musketry, making
a cloud of smoke, riven by flame. Both parties fought with stubborn
courage. Twice the Spaniards had boarded, and twice had been repulsed
with severe loss. The enemy was continually reinforced, in spite of
the loss inflicted by the steady fire of the Spanish arquebusiers.
Occasionally interrupted, they always returned to each other; and both
commanders exposed themselves as fully as any soldier, there being no
honorable place of safety. Don John was slightly wounded in the foot,
but would not have it dressed. A third time his trumpets summoned the
boarders, and the Spaniards again boldly boarded the great Turkish
galley. They were met by Ali, at the head of his janizaries; but the
Ottoman leader was just then knocked senseless by a musket ball, and
his chosen troops, though fighting well, missed his voice and presence.
After a short but furious struggle they threw down their arms. Under
a heap of slain the body of Ali was found. Life was not extinct, but
he would at once have been dispatched had he not told the soldiers who
discovered him where his money and jewels were to be found. In their
haste to secure these, they left him lying upon the deck. Just then a
galley slave, who had been liberated and armed, severed the head of Ali
from his body, and carried it to Don John, on board his galley. Don
John was shocked at the sight, and, after a glance of horror and pity,
ordered it to be thrown into the sea. This was not done, however, but,
in revenge for Bragadino, it was placed upon a pike, while the crescent
banner was hauled down, and the cross run up in its place. The sight of
the sacred banner flying on board the captured flag-ship was welcomed
by the Christian fleet with shouts of victory, which rose above the
din of battle. The intelligence of the death of Ali was soon passed
along the line, cheering the Allies, and disheartening the Turks, whose
exertions diminished and whose fire slackened.
They were too far off to seek the shore, as their comrades on the right
had done, and they had either to fight or surrender. Most of them
preferred the latter, and their vessels were now carried by boarding,
or sunk by the Allies; and in four hours the centre of the Moslem
fleet, like their right wing, had been annihilated.
On the right of the Allies, however, Uluch Ali, the redoubted Algerine,
had cut Doria’s weakened line, and inflicted great damage and loss,
and would have done more but for the arrival of the reserve, under the
Marquis Santa Cruz. He had already assisted Don John when assailed by
overwhelming numbers, and had enabled him again to attack Ali.
Santa Cruz, seeing the critical condition of Doria, pushed forward to
his relief, supported by the Sicilian squadron. Dashing into the midst
of the mêlée, the two commanders fell like a thunder-bolt upon the
Algerine galleys, few of which attempted to withstand the shock; and
in their haste to avoid it, they were caught again by Doria and his
Genoese.
Beset on all sides, Uluch Ali was compelled to abandon his prizes and
seek safety in flight. He cut adrift his great prize, the Maltese
“Capitana,” which he had attached by a hawser to the stern of his
own vessel, and on board of which three hundred corpses attested the
desperate character of her defence.
As tidings reached him of the defeat of the centre, and of the death
of Ali Pasha, he felt that retreat alone was left for him, with as
many of his own ships as he could save from capture. His contingent
comprised the best vessels in the Turkish fleet, with crews in perfect
discipline and hardened to the sea, having always been corsairs, and
accustomed to scour the Mediterranean at all seasons.
Making signal for retreat, the Algerine made off, under all the sail
the battle had left him, and urged forward also by the exertions of
his Christian galley slaves, smarting under the blows of his enraged
_comites_.
Doria and Santa Cruz followed swiftly in his wake, but he managed to
distance them, and to carry off with him many of his ships. Don John
himself joined in the chase, having disposed of his own assailants, and
they finally managed to drive a few of the Algerine vessels upon the
rocks of a headland; but their crews in great part escaped. Uluch’s
escape was due to the fact that the rowers of the Christian fleet
had taken part in the battle, and while many were killed or wounded,
the remainder were much exhausted, while the Algerine galley slaves,
chained to their benches, and passive during much of the fight, were
comparatively fresh.
As already stated, the battle lasted more than four hours, and
before it was over the sky showed signs of a coming storm. Don John
reconnoitred the scene of action before seeking a shelter for himself
and his numerous prizes. Several vessels were found to be too much
damaged for further service, and as these were mostly prizes, he
ordered everything of value to be removed from them and the hulls
burned.
He then led his victorious fleet to the neighboring haven of Petala,
which was accessible and secure. Before he reached there the storm had
begun, while the late scene of battle was lighted up by the blazing
wrecks, throwing up streams of fire and showers of sparks.
The young commander-in-chief was now congratulated upon his signal
victory, by his companions in arms.
Officers and men recounted the various events of the day, and natural
exultation was mingled with gloom as they gained certain tidings of the
loss of friends who had bought this great success with their blood.
The loss of life had indeed been very great; greater by far than in any
modern sea fight. It is supposed that the Turks suffered most heavily,
but their loss was never known. It has been estimated at 25,000 killed
and drowned, and 5000 prisoners. It was, indeed, a crushing blow to
them.
To the victors great pleasure was given by the fact that at least
12,000 Christian slaves, who had been (some of them for many years)
chained to the oars of the Turkish galleys, were made free. Many of
them were hopelessly broken in health; but tears streamed down their
haggard cheeks at the prospect of dying in their own land and among
their own people.
The losses of the Allies, though very great, were as nothing compared
to that of the Moslem. About one thousand Romans and two thousand
Spaniards were killed, while the Venetians and Sicilians lost about
five thousand. This disparity of loss has been attributed to the
superiority of the Christians in the use of firearms. The Turks still
clung to the bow, and a large proportion of their fighting men were
thus armed. The Turks, moreover, were the vanquished party, and, as
is generally the case, suffered terribly in the pursuit. Their great
armada was almost annihilated, not more than forty of their galleys
escaping. One hundred and thirty were actually taken, and divided among
the conquerors; the remainder were either sunk or burned. The Allies
had about fifteen galleys sunk, and had many much damaged; but their
vessels were much better constructed and stronger than those of the
Turks, whom they also excelled in nautical evolutions.
An immense booty of gold, jewels and brocades was found on board the
prizes; it being said that Ali Pasha’s ship alone contained 170,000
gold sequins, or nearly $400,000, a very large sum for those days.
The number of persons of rank and consideration who embarked in the
expedition was very great, both among the Christians and the Moslem,
and many of these were slain. The second in command of the Venetian
force, the commander-in-chief of the Turkish fleet, and the commander
of his right wing, all fell in the battle. Many a high-born Christian
cavalier closed at Lepanto a long career of honorable service. On the
other hand many dated the commencement of their success in arms from
that day. Among these was Alexander Farnese, Prince of Parma, who
became a great general, and whom we shall hear of again, in connection
with the Spanish Armada. Although only a few years younger than his
kinsman, Don John, he was making his first campaign as a private
adventurer. During the battle the galley in which he was embarked was
lying, yard arm and yard arm, alongside a Turkish galley, with which
she was hotly engaged. In the midst of the fight Farnese sprang on
board the enemy, hewing down with his Andrea Ferrara all who opposed
him, thus opening a path for his comrades, who poured in, one after
another, and after a bloody contest, captured the vessel. As Farnese’s
galley lay just astern of that of Don John, the latter witnessed, with
great pride and delight, the gallant deed of his nephew. Another youth
was at Lepanto, who, though then unknown, was destined to win greater
laurels than those of the battle field. This was Miguel de Cervantes,
then twenty-four years of age, and serving as a common soldier. He
had been ill of a fever, but on the morning of the battle insisted on
taking a very exposed post. Here he was wounded twice in the chest,
and once in the left hand, from which he lost its use. The right hand
served to write one of the most remarkable books ever known, Don
Quixote; and Cervantes always said that, for all his wounds, he would
not have missed the glory of being present on that memorable day.
A fierce storm raged for twenty-four hours after the battle of Lepanto,
but the fleet rode in safety at Petala; and it remained there four
days, during which Don John visited the different vessels, providing
for their repairs and for the wounded, and distributing honors among
those who had earned them. His kindly and generous disposition was not
only shown to his own people, but to the Turkish prisoners. Among these
were two young sons of Ali, the Moslem commander-in-chief. They had not
been on board his galley, and to their affliction at his death was now
added the doom of imprisonment.
Don John sent for them, and they prostrated themselves before him on
the deck; but he raised and embraced them, and said all he could to
console them, ordering them to be treated with the consideration due
to their rank. He also assigned them quarters, and gave them rich
apparel and a sumptuous table. A letter came from their sister, Fatima,
soliciting the freedom of her brothers and appealing to Don John’s well
known humanity. He had already sent a courier to Constantinople, to
convey the assurance of their safety. As was the custom then, Fatima
had sent with her letter presents of enormous value.
In the division of the spoils and slaves, the young Turkish princes had
been assigned to the Pope, but Don John succeeded in procuring their
liberation. Unfortunately, the elder, who was about seventeen, died at
Naples; but the younger, who was only thirteen, was sent home with his
attendants, and with him were sent the presents received from Fatima,
on the ground that the young commander-in-chief only granted free
favors.
Don John also made friends with the testy old Venetian admiral,
Veniero, with whom he had had a serious difficulty before the battle.
Veniero afterwards became Doge--the third of his family to reach that
eminence--which office he held until his death.
Before leaving Petala a council was held, to decide upon the next
operation of the fleet. Some were for an immediate attack upon
Constantinople; while others considered the fleet in no condition for
such an enterprise, and recommended that it be disbanded, go into
winter quarters, and renew operations in the spring.
Some agreed with Don John, that, before disbanding, they should do
something more. An attack upon Santa Maura was determined on; but on
reconnoitering, it was found to be too strong to be captured otherwise
than by siege.
A division of spoils among the Allies then took place. One-half of the
captured vessels, and of the artillery and small arms, was set apart
for the King of Spain. The other half was divided between the Pope and
the Republic of Venice; while the money and rich goods were distributed
among the officers and crews.
The fleet then dispersed; and Don John proceeded to Messina, where
great joy was felt, and immense fêtes awaited him; for he had been gone
from them only six weeks, and had, in the meantime, won the greatest
battle of modern times. The whole population flocked to the water side
to welcome the victorious fleet, which came back not without scars, but
bearing the consecrated banner still proudly aloft. In their rear were
the battered prizes, with their flags trailing ignominiously in the
water. There were music, garlands of flowers, triumphal arches, salvos
of artillery, a gorgeous canopy, and a _Te Deum_ in the Cathedral. A
grand banquet followed, when Don John was presented with 30,000 crowns
by the city, which also voted him a colossal statue in bronze. Don John
accepted the money, but only for the sick and wounded; and his own
share of booty from Ali’s galley he ordered to be distributed among his
own crew.
The news of Lepanto caused a great sensation throughout Christendom,
as the Turks had been considered invincible at sea. Upon the receipt
of the intelligence the Sultan Selim covered his head with dust, and
refused food for three days--while all Christendom was repeating, after
the sovereign Pontiff, “There was a man sent from God, whose name was
John.”
In Venice, which might be said to have gained a new lease of life from
the results of the battle, there were ceremonial rejoicings, and, by
public decree, the 7th of October was set apart forever as a national
anniversary.
In Naples the joy was great, as their coasts had been so often
desolated by Ottoman cruisers, and their people carried off as slaves.
So, when Santa Cruz returned he was welcomed as a deliverer from
bondage.
But even greater honors were paid to Colonna, in Rome. He was borne
in stately procession, and trophies were carried after him, with the
captives following, quite in the style of the old Roman triumphs.
Of course, the rejoicing in Spain did not fall short of that in the
other countries concerned.
The great Ottoman standard, the greatest trophy of the battle, was
deposited in the Escorial, where it was afterwards destroyed by fire.
When the victory was announced to Philip he was at prayer, which he
did not interrupt, and he pretended to receive the intelligence very
coolly. But he ordered illuminations and masses; and commanded Titian,
who was then in Madrid, and ninety years of age, to paint the “Victory
of the League,” still in the Museum of Madrid.
The Pope made every effort, by special ambassadors, to have the King
press the war, and to extend the alliance against the Turks.
But Philip was lukewarm, even cold, and said that, for his part, he
feared the Turks less than he did the Christian dissenters of Belgium,
England, and the Low Countries.
It has been said that Charles V would have followed his victory to the
gates of Constantinople, but the Duke of Alva thought that, Don John’s
force being a mixed one, he would not have succeeded unless supported
by the united force of Christendom, so great was the Moslem power at
that time.
The battle lost the Turks no territory, but broke the charm of
invincibility which they had possessed. Venice gained confidence, and
the Ottomans never again took the initiative against that State--while
those who have most carefully studied the history of the Ottoman Empire
date its decline from the battle of Lepanto.
[Illustration: THE ENGLISH FLEET FOLLOWING THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA.
(From the Tapestry in the House of Lords, destroyed in the fire at the
Houses of Parliament.)]