THE WASPS AT WORK
But if Barbarossa was dead, his sagacious brother Kheyr-ed-din was ready
to take up his work, and he proceeded on more scientific principles. He
began by sending an ambassador to Constantinople, and begged protection
for the province of Algiers. This, having been granted, he was appointed
officially, in 1519, Governor of Algiers. His next step was to reinforce
his garrisons at different parts of the coast and so secure his territory
from attacks by sea. And in order to make for safety on the southern or
landward side, he entered into alliances with the leading Arabian tribes
up-country.
He was thus about as secure as it was possible for human diplomacy and
organisation to achieve. His ships could still go on their piratical
cruises and return with little enough risk. In vain did the Spaniards
send an Armada against him. The men indeed landed, but they were driven
back, and a storm springing up did the rest. Gradually more and more
seaports fell into the net of this corsair, so there were plenty of
harbours to run for, plenty of safe shelters whither to bring the
valuable prizes. It was not merely the middle or the eastern end of the
Mediterranean which was now harassed, but the west end. Those were the
days, you will remember, when Spain was developing the rich resources
of the New World, so there was a great opportunity for the Barbarian
pirates to go out some little distance into the Atlantic and capture the
West Indiamen homeward bound for Cadiz with gold and other treasures.
And in addition to these prizes, no less than the merchantmen of Italy,
Kheyr-ed-din occasionally made raids on the Spanish coast or even carried
off slaves from the Balearic Islands. From end to end these Algerine
corsairs were thus masters of the Mediterranean. No commercial ship could
pass on her voyages in any safety—even Spanish flagships found themselves
being brought captive into Algiers.
True, the small Spanish garrison still remained in Algiers, and because
it was immured within a very strong fortress it held out. The time now
came for this to be attacked with great vigour. For a period of fifteen
days it was bombarded, and at length, after a most stubborn resistance,
it was overcome. The stronghold was then pulled down, and Christian
prisoners who in the summer season had rowed chained to their seats in
the corsair galleys, were in the off-season employed to build with these
stones the great mole to protect the harbour of Algiers from the western
side. It was a stupendous undertaking, and seven thousand of these
unhappy creatures accomplished the work in most of two years.
Nothing succeeds like success, and the corsair prospered in power and
possession to such an extent that he was pre-eminent. This naturally
attracted to his dominion many thousands of other followers, and there
was thus established not a mere small colony of pirates, but a grand
corsair kingdom where the industry of sea-robbery was well organised with
its foundries and dockyards, and with every assistance to agriculture,
and a firm, hard government to keep the land in fit and proper
cultivation.
And now yet another invitation came to Kheyr-ed-din. Andrea Doria had
defeated the Turks at Patras and in the Dardanelles. Like the policy
of the corsairs, after each victory the Christian admiral employed the
infidel captives to work at the oars of his galleys. Thus it was that the
Sultan of Turkey—Solyman the Magnificent—realising that the Christian
admiral was draining the best Turkish seafaring men, determined to invite
Kheyr-ed-din to help him against Andrea Doria. So one of the Sultan’s
personal guard was dispatched to Algiers requesting Barbarossa to come
to Constantinople and place himself at the head of the Ottoman navy.
Barbarossa accepted this as he had accepted other invitations, seeing
that it was to his own interest, and in August 1533 left Algiers with
seven galleys and eleven other craft. On the way he was joined by sixteen
more craft belonging to a pirate named Delizuff, but before they had got
to the end of the voyage Delizuff was killed in an attack on a small
island named Biba. There followed some friction between the men of the
deceased pirate and those of Barbarossa, and finally one dark night the
ships of Delizuff stole away from Barbarossa’s fleet.
Eventually this Sultan of Algiers, with his ships, arrived at
Constantinople. The case stood thus. The Ottoman subject was an excellent
man to fight battles by land, but not by sea. Barbarossa was a true
fighting seaman: therefore let him do for us that which we ourselves
cannot do. He was only three years short of becoming an octogenarian,
yet this veteran corsair was as able as he was wicked, and so, after the
Ottoman dockyards in the following year had provided him with additional
ships, Barbarossa set forth from Constantinople and began by sacking
Reggio, burning Christian ships and carrying off their crews. Thence he
laid waste the coast until he came to Naples, and altogether made 11,000
Christians prisoners, and returned to the Bosphorus with an abundance
of spoil and slaves. Sardinia, too, was depleted of wealth and humanity
till it was almost bereft of both, and at last the fleet arrived before
Tunis, to the amazement of the inhabitants. To condense a long story it
may be said at once that, after some fighting, Tunis found itself now in
submission to him who was also Sultan of Algiers and commander-in-chief
of the Ottoman fleet. But trouble was brewing.
Again Christendom was moved to action. The successes of this
all-conquering King of Corsairs were endangering the world, so the great
Charles V. set on foot most elaborate preparations to cope with the
evil. The preparations were indeed slow, but they were sure and they
were extensive. But there was just one disappointing fact. When Francis
the First, King of France, was invited to take his share in this great
Christian expedition it is as true as it is regrettable to have to record
the fact, that not only did he decline, but he actually betrayed the news
of these impending activities to Barbarossa. This news was not welcome
even to such a hardened old pirate, but he set to work in order to be
ready for the foe, employed the Christian prisoners in repairing the
fortifications of Tunis, summoned help to his standard from all sides,
all united in the one desire to defeat and crush utterly any Christian
force that might be sent against the followers of Mahomet. Spies kept him
informed of the latest developments, and from Algiers came all the men
that could possibly be spared. And finally, when all preparations had
been made, there was on the one side the mightiest Christian expedition
about to meet the greatest aggregation of Moslems. By the middle of June
the invaders reached the African coast and found themselves before Tunis.
It was to be a contest of Christian forces against infidels: it was to
represent an attempt once and for all to settle with the greatest pirate
even the Mediterranean had ever witnessed. It was, if possible, to set
free the hordes of brother-Christians from the tyrannous cruelty of a
despotic corsair. Of those who now came over the sea, many had lost wife,
or sister, or father, or son, or brother at the hands of these heathens.
For once, at last, this great Christian Armada had the sea to itself: the
wasps had retreated into their nest.
So the attack began simultaneously from the land and from the sea. The
men on shore and those in the galleys realised they were battling in
no ordinary contest but in a veritable crusade. Twenty-five thousand
infantry and six hundred lancers, with their horses, had been brought
across the sea in sixty-two galleys, a hundred and fifty transports,
as well as a large number of other craft.[1] The Moslems had received
assistance from along the African coast and from the inland tribes.
Twenty thousand horsemen, as well as a large quantity of infantry, were
ready to meet the Christians. The Emperor Charles V. was himself present,
and Andrea Doria, the greatest Christian admiral, was there opposed to
the greatest admiral of the Moslems.
Needless to say the fight was fierce, but at last the Christians were
able to make a breach in the walls not once but in several places, and
the fortress had to be vacated. Tunis was destined to fall into Christian
hands. Barbarossa realised this now full well. What hurt him most was
that he was beaten at his own game: his own beloved galleys were to fall
into the enemies’ hands. Presently the corsairs were routed utterly,
and Barbarossa with only about three thousand of his followers escaped
by land. Now inside Tunis were no fewer than 20,000 Christian prisoners.
These now succeeded in freeing themselves of their fetters, opened the
gates to the victorious army, and the latter, unable to be controlled,
massacred the people they had been sent against right and left. The
20,000 Christians were rescued, the victory had been won, the corsair
had been put to flight, and Muley Hassan, a mere puppet, was restored
to his kingdom of Tunis by Charles V. on conditions, amongst which it
was stipulated that Muley Hassan should liberate all Christian captives
who might be in his realm, give them a free passage to their homes, and
no corsair should be allowed again to use his ports for any purpose
whatsoever.
This was the biggest blow which Barbarossa had ever received. But brute
though he was, cruel tyrant that he had shown himself, enemy of the human
race though he undoubtedly must be reckoned, yet his was a great mind,
his was a spirit which was only impelled and not depressed by disasters.
At the end of a pitiful flight, he arrived farther along the African
coast at the port of Bona, where there remained just fifteen galleys
which he had kept in reserve. All else that was his had gone—ships,
arsenal, men. But the sea being his natural element, and piracy his
natural profession, he began at once to embark. But just then there
arrived fifteen of the Christian galleys, so Barbarossa, not caring for
conflict, drew up his galleys under the fort of Bona, and the enemy
deemed it prudent to let the corsair alone, and withdrew. Soon after
Barbarossa put to sea and disappeared, when Andrea Doria with forty
galleys arrived on the scene too late.
Just as on an earlier occasion already narrated, the Christian expedition
made the mistake of not pressing home their victory and so settling
matters with the pirates for good and all. Algiers had been drained so
thoroughly of men that it was really too weak to resist an attack. But
no; the Christians left that alone, although they took Bona. About the
middle of August Charles re-embarked his men and, satisfied with the
thrashing he had given these pirates, returned home. But Barbarossa
proceeded to Algiers, where he got together a number of galleys and
waited till his former followers—or as many as had survived battle and
the African desert—returned to him. If Moslem piracy had been severely
crushed, it was not unable to revive, and, before long, Barbarossa with
his veterans was afloat again, looting ships at sea, and carrying off
more prisoners to Algiers. For this piracy was like a highly infectious
disease. You might think for a time that it was stamped out, that the
world had been cleansed of it, but in a short time it would be manifest
that the evil was as prevalent as ever.
Once more he was summoned to visit Soliman the Magnificent; once more
the arch-corsair sped to Constantinople to receive instructions to
deal with the conquering Christians. Andrea Doria was at sea, burning
Turkish ships, and only this Sultan of Algiers could deal with him. So
away Barbarossa went in his customary fashion, raiding the Adriatic
towns, sweeping the islands of the Archipelago, and soon he returned to
Constantinople with 18,000 slaves, to say nothing of material prizes.
Money was obtained as easily as human lives, and the world marvelled
that this corsair admiral, this scourge of the sea, this enemy of the
Christian race, should, after a crushing defeat, be able to go about his
dastardly work, terrifying towns and ships as though the expedition of
Charles V. had never been sent forth.
But matters were again working up to a crisis. If the corsair admiral
was still afloat, so was Andrea Doria, the great Christian admiral. At
the extreme south-west corner of the Epirus, on the Balkan side of the
Adriatic, and almost opposite the heel of Italy, lies Prevesa. Hither
in 1569 came the fleets of the Cross and the Crescent respectively. The
Christian ships had been gathered together at the Island of Corfu, which
is thirty or forty miles to the north-west of Prevesa. Barbarossa came,
assisted by all the great pirate captains of the day, and among them must
be mentioned Dragut, about whom we shall have more to say later.
But Prevesa, from a spectacular standpoint, was disappointing. It was too
scientific, too clearly marked by strategy and too little distinguished
by fighting. If the reader has ever been present at any athletic contest
where there has been more skill than sport, he will know just what I
mean. It is the spirit of the crowd at a cricket match when the batsman
is all on the defensive and no runs are being scored. It is manifested in
the spectators’ indignation at a boxing match when neither party gets in
a good blow, when there is an excess of science, when both contestants,
fairly matched and perhaps overtrained and nervous of the other’s
prowess, hesitate to go in for hard-hitting, so that in the end the match
ends in a draw.
It was exactly on this wise at Prevesa. Andrea Doria and Barbarossa
were the two great champions of the ring. Neither was young; both had
been trained by years of long fighting. They were as fairly matched
as it was possible to find a couple of great admirals. Each realised
the other’s value; both knew that for spectators they had the whole
of Europe—both Christian and Moslem. Victory to the one would mean
downfall to the other, and unless a lucky escape intervened, one of the
two great admirals would spend the rest of his life rowing his heart out
as a galley-slave. Certainly it was enough to make the boxers nervous
and hesitating. They were a long time getting to blows, and there was
but little actually accomplished. There was an unlucky calm on the sea,
and the _Galleon of Venice_ was the centre of the fighting which took
place. It was the splendid discipline on board this big craft, it was
the excellence of her commander and the unique character of her great
guns which made such an impression on Barbarossa’s fleet that although
the _Galleon_ was severely damaged, yet at the critical time when
the corsairs might have rushed on board and stormed her as night was
approaching, for once in his life the great nerve of the corsair king
deserted him. No one was more surprised than the Venetians when they
found the pirate not pressing home his attack. True, the latter had
captured a few of the Christian ships, but these were a mere handful and
out of all proportion to the importance of the battle. He had been sent
forth to crush Andrea Doria and the Christian fleet; he had failed so to
do.
Next day, with a fair wind, Andrea Doria made away. The honour of the
battle belonged to the _Galleon of Venice_, but for Barbarossa it was
a triumph because, with an inferior force, he had put the Christian
admiral to flight. Doria’s ship had not been so much as touched, and yet
Barbarossa had not been taken prisoner. That was the last great event in
the career of Kheyr-ed-din, and he died in 1548 at Constantinople as one
of the wickedest and cruellest murderers of history, the greatest pirate
that has ever lived, and one of the cleverest tacticians and strategists
the Mediterranean ever bore on its waters. There has rarely lived a
human being so bereft of the quality of mercy, and his death was received
by Christian Europe with a sigh of the greatest relief.
In the whole history of piracy there figure some remarkably clever and
consummate seamen. Like many another criminal they had such tremendous
natural endowments that one cannot but regret that they began badly
and continued. The bitterest critic of this Moslem monster cannot but
admire his abnormal courage, resource; his powers of organisation and his
untameable determination. The pity of it all is that all this should have
been wasted in bringing misery to tens of thousands, in dealing death and
robbery and pillage.