The decks were loaded with corpses, Christian and Moslem lying
promiscuously together in the embrace of death. Instances are given
where every man on board was slain or wounded. It was a ghastly
spectacle, where blood flowed in rivulets down the sides of the
vessels, staining the waters of the Gulf for miles around.

It seemed as if some hurricane had swept over the sea, and covered it
with the wreck of the noble armaments which a moment before were so
proudly riding on its bosom. Little had they now to remind one of
their late magnificent array, with their hulls battered and defaced,
their masts and spars gone or fearfully splintered by the shot, their
canvas cut into shreds and floating wildly on the breeze, while
thousands of wounded and drowning men were clinging to the floating
fragments, and calling piteously for help. Such was the wild uproar
which had succeeded to the Sabbath-like stillness that two hours
before had reigned over these beautiful solitudes!

The left wing of the confederates, commanded by Barberigo, had been
sorely pressed by the Turks, as we have seen, at the beginning of the
fight. Barberigo himself had been mortally wounded. His line had been
turned. Several of his galleys had been sunk. But the Venetians
gathered courage from despair. By incredible efforts they succeeded in
beating off their enemies. They became the assailants in their
turn. Sword in hand, they carried one vessel after another. The
Capuchin, with uplifted crucifix, was seen to head the attack, and to
lead the boarders to the assault. The Christian galley-slaves, in some
instances, broke their fetters and joined their countrymen against
their masters. Fortunately, the vessel of Mehemet Siroco, the Moslem
admiral, was sunk; and though extricated from the water himself, it
was only to perish by the sword of his conqueror, Juan Contarini. The
Venetian could find no mercy for the Turk.

The fall of their commander gave the final blow to his
followers. Without further attempt to prolong the fight, they fled
before the avenging swords of the Venetians. Those nearest the land
endeavored to escape by running their vessels ashore, where they
abandoned them as prizes to the Christians. Yet many of the fugitives,
before gaining the shore, perished miserably in the waves. Barberigo,
the Venetian admiral, who was still lingering in agony, heard the
tidings of the enemy's defeat, and exclaiming, "I die contented," he
breathed his last.