Читать книгу Daring Deeds of Famous Pirates - E. Keble Chatterton - Страница 8

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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.