It was an almost incredible victory, considering the rapidity with which
it had been achieved. On the morning of the 16th the fleet of transports
had set sail from Spain. On the night of the 17th the object of the
expedition was fully accomplished, the army being in complete possession
of Oran, a strongly manned and fortified city, taken almost without loss.
Ximenes, to whose warlike enthusiasm this remarkable victory was wholly
due, embarked in his galley the next morning and sailed along the city's
margin, his soul swelling with satisfaction at his wonderful success. On
landing, the army hailed him as the true victor of Oran, a wave of
acclamations following him as he advanced to the alcazar, where the keys
of the fortress were put into his hands. A few hours after the surrender
of the city a powerful reinforcement arrived for its relief, but on
learning of its loss the disconcerted Moors retired. Had the attack been
deferred to the next day, as Navarro proposed, it would probably have
failed. The people of Spain ascribed the victory to inspiration from
heaven; but the only inspiration lay in the impetuous energy and
enthusiasm of the cardinal. Yet at that period it was by no means uncommon
to invent stories of miracles, and it is soberly asserted that the sun
stood still for several hours while the action went on, Heaven repeating
the miracle of Joshua, and halting the solar orb in its career, that more
of the heathen might be slaughtered. The greatest miracle of all would
have been had the sun stood still nowhere else than over the fated city of
Oran.
It may not be amiss to add to this narrative an account of a second
expedition against Africa, made by Charles V. some thirty years later, in
which Heaven failed to come to the aid of Spain, and whose termination was
as disastrous as that of the expedition of Ximenes had been fortunate.
It was the city of Algiers that Charles set out to reduce, and, though the
season was late and it was the time of the violent autumnal winds, he
persisted in his purpose in spite of the advice of experienced mariners.
The expedition consisted of twenty thousand foot and two thousand horse,
with a large body of noble volunteers. The storms came as promised and
gave the army no small trouble in its voyage, but at length, with much
difficulty and danger, the troops were landed on the coast near Algiers
and advanced at once upon the town.
Hascan, the Moorish leader, had only about six thousand men to oppose to
the large Spanish army, and had little hope of a successful resistance by
force of arms. But in this case Heaven--if we admit its interference at
all--came to the aid of the Moors. On the second day after landing, and
before operations had fairly begun, the clouds gathered and the skies grew
threatening. Towards evening rain began to fall and a fierce wind arose.
During the night a violent tempest swept the camp, and the soldiers, who
were without tents or shelter of any kind, were soon in a deplorable
state. Their camp, which was in a low situation, was quickly overflowed by
the pouring rains, and the ground became ankle deep in mud. No one could
lie down, while the wind blew so furiously that they could only stand by
thrusting their spears into the ground and clinging to them. About
day-dawn they were attacked by the vigilant Hascan, and a considerable
number of them killed before the enemy was forced to retire.
Bad as the night had been, the day proved more disastrous still. The
tempest continued, its force increasing, and the sea, roused to its utmost
fury by the winds, made sad havoc of the ships. They were torn from their
anchorage, flung violently together, beat to pieces on the rocks, and
driven ashore, while many sank bodily in the waves. In less than an hour
fifteen war-vessels and a hundred and forty transports were wrecked and
eight thousand men had perished, those of the crews who reached shore
being murdered by the Moors as soon as they touched land.
It was with anguish and astoundment that the emperor witnessed this wreck
of all his hopes, the great stores which he had collected for subsistence
and military purposes being in one fatal hour buried in the depths of the
sea. At length the wind began to fall, and some hopes arose that vessels
enough might have escaped to carry the distressed army back to Europe. But
darkness was again at hand, and a second night of suspense and misery was
passed. In the morning a boat reached land with a messenger from Andrew
Doria, the admiral of the fleet, who sent word that in fifty years of
maritime life he had never seen so frightful a storm, and that he had been
forced to bear away with his shattered ships to Cape Metafuz, whither he
advised the emperor to march with all speed, as the skies were still
threatening and the tempest might be renewed.
The emperor was now in a fearful quandary. Metafuz was at least three
days' march away. All the food that had been brought ashore was consumed.
The soldiers, worn out with fatigue, were in no condition for such a
journey. Yet it was impossible to stay where they were. There was no need
of deliberation; no choice was left; their only hope of safety lay in
instant movement.
The sick, wounded, and feeble were placed in the centre, the stronger in
front and rear, and the disastrous march began. Some of the men could
hardly bear the weight of their arms; others, worn out with toiling
through the nearly impassable roads, lay down and died; many perished from
hunger and exhaustion, there being no food but roots and berries gathered
by the way and the flesh of horses killed by the emperor's order; many
were drowned in the streams, swollen by the severe rains; many were killed
by the enemy, who followed and harassed them throughout the march. The
late gallant army was a bedraggled and miserable fragment when the
survivors at length reached Metafuz. Fortunately the storm was at an end,
and they were able to obtain from the ships the provisions of which they
stood so sorely in need.
The calamities which attended this unlucky expedition were not yet at an
end. No sooner had the soldiers embarked than a new storm arose, less
violent than the former, but sufficient to scatter the ships to right and
left, some making port in Spain, some in Italy, all seeking such harbors
of refuge as they could find. The emperor, after passing through great
perils, was driven to the port of Bugia in Africa, where contrary winds
held him prisoner for several weeks. He at length reached Spain, to find
the whole land in dismay at the fate of the gallant expedition, which had
set out with such high hopes of success. To the end of his reign Charles
V. had no further aspirations for conquest in Africa.