doublet, had been an object of attention to the marksmen of
Chabelli during the entire action. In spite of the receipt of a severe
wound in the knee, the admiral refused to go below until victory was
assured. He was surrounded at this time by a devoted band of nobles sworn
to defend the person of their admiral or to die in his defence. His
portrait has been sketched for us at this time by the Dominican Friar,
Padre Alberto Gugliel-motto, author of "La guerra dei Pirati e la marina
Pontifica dal 1500 al 1560." The description runs thus: "Andrea Doria was
of lofty stature, his face oval in shape, forehead broad and commanding,
his neck was powerful, his hair short, his beard long and fan-shaped, his
lips were thin, his eyes bright and piercing."

Once again had he defeated an officer of the Grand Turk; and it may be
remarked that Ibrahim was probably quite right in the estimation, or rather
in the lack of estimation, in which he held the sea-officers of his master,
as they seem to have been deficient in every quality save that of personal
valour, and in their encounters with Doria and the knights were almost
invariably worsted. For the sake of Islam, for the prestige of the Moslem
arms at sea, it was time that Barbarossa should take matters in hand once
more.

The autumn of this year 1537 proved that the old Sea-wolf had lost none of
his cunning, that his followers were as terrible as ever. What did it seem
to matter that Venetian and Catalan, Genoese and Frenchman, Andalusian and
the dwellers in the Archipelago, were all banded together in league against
this common foe? Did not the redoubtable Andrea range the seas in vain, and
were not all the efforts of the Knights of Saint John futile, when the son
of the renegado from Mitylene and his Christian wife put forth from the
Golden Horn? What was the magic of this man, it was asked despairingly,
that none seemed able to prevail against him? Had it not been currently
reported that Carlos Quinto, the great Emperor, had driven him forth from
Tunis a hunted fugitive, broken and penniless, with never a galley left,
without one ducat in his pocket? Was he so different, then, from all the
rest of mankind that his followers would stick to him in evil report as
well as in the height of his prosperity? Men swore and women crossed
themselves at the mention of his name.

"Terrible as an army with banners," indeed, was Kheyr-ed-Din in this
eventful summer: things had gone badly with t