horizon all the Turkish fleet
seemed assembled to assault the colossus which so long had resisted their
attack; there was a pause in the combat, and the firing died down.
Condalmiero and his men braced themselves for the assault which they felt
to be inevitable: for now the darkness was swiftly coming, in which they
could no longer see to shoot, and under cover of which their numerous foes
could assail them by boarding in comparative safety. Now the moment had
come for the last act in this terrible drama of the sea. They had held
their own at long odds throughout the whole of a hot September day, and as
the level beams of the setting sun shone on their shattered ship they were
prepared to die, fighting to the last man for the honour of Venice and the
glory of St. Mark.

Stiff and worn, wearied almost to the breaking strain, there was no man on
board who even dreamt of surrender; all the guns were charged to the muzzle
with bullets and broken stone, the artillerists match in hand stood grimly
awaiting the order to fire, straining their eyes and their ears in the
gathering darkness; in a few minutes at most they knew that the fate of the
_Galleon of Venice_ must be decided.

On board his galley, decorated for this occasion with scarlet banners,
Barbarossa himself directed the assaulting line. Never before when the
battle was joined had the gallant corsair been known to draw back; and yet
on this occasion he not only hesitated but actually hauled off. The
Venetians saw to their amazement that the expected attack was not to be
pushed home; for Barbarossa and his captains fell upon some lesser vessels:
the _Galleon of Venice_ was victorious.

Meanwhile Doria was displaying his mastery of tactics when it was hard
fighting that was wanted; he pretended that he wished to draw the Ottoman
fleet into the high seas in order that he might destroy their galleys by
means of the broadsides of his nefs; consequently he executed useless
parade movements when he should by all the rules of warfare have closed
with his enemy who was in distinctly inferior force; as he had a fair wind
there is only one conclusion to be drawn, and that is that he did not want
to fight.

His manoeuvres certainly mystified the Turks, who viewed his tactics with
mistrust, thinking them the outset of some deeply laid scheme; it never
entered into their calculations for one moment that the great Andrea Doria,
the terror of the Mediterranean sea, and the victor