ttle began, was now in a position to help. After an hour's
fighting with all the advantage on Ali's side, Santa Cruz arrived
with his reserve squadron and turned the scale. By this time, too,
Doria managed to reach the scene with a part of his squadron. Thus
Ali found himself outnumbered and in danger of capture. Signaling
retreat, he collected a number of his galleys and, boldly steering
through the field of battle, escaped to lay at the feet of the
Sultan the captured flag of the Knights of Malta. Some thirty-five
others of his force made their way safely back to Lepanto.

The fighting did not end till evening. By that time the Christians
had taken 117 galleys and 20 galliots, and sunk or burnt some fifty
other ships of various sorts. Ten thousand Turks were captured and
many thousands of Christian slaves rescued. The Christians lost
7500 men; the Turks, about 30,000. It was an overwhelming victory.

As far as the tactics go, Lepanto was, like Salamis, an infantry
battle on floating platforms. It was fought and won by the picked
infantrymen of Spain and Italy; the day of seamanship had not yet
arrived. For the conduct of the most distinguished admiral on the
Christian side, Gian Andrea Doria, little justification can be
found. Even if we accept his excuse at its face value, the event
proved his folly. It is strange that in this, the supreme victory
of the Cross over the Crescent on the sea, a Doria should have
tarnished his reputation so foully, even as his great-uncle Andrea
had tarnished his in the battle of Prevesa. It seems as if in both, as
Genoese, the hatred of Venice extinguished every other consideration
of loyalty to Christendom.

What were the consequences of Lepanto, and in what sense can it
be called a decisive battle? The question at first seems baffling.
Overwhelming as was the defeat of the Turks, Ali had another fleet
ready the next spring and was soon ravaging the seas again. Twice
there came an opportunity for the two fleets to meet for another
battle, but Ali declined the challenge. After Lepanto he seemed
unwilling, without a great superiority, to risk another close action
and contented himself with a "fleet in being." In this new attitude
toward the Christians lies the hint to the answer. The significance
of Lepanto lies in its moral effect. Never before had the Turkish
fleet been so decisively beaten in a pitched battle. The fame of
Lepanto rang through Europe and broke the legend of Turkish