the scutcheon of Doria, or
can excuse the fact that at the most supreme moment of his career he failed
to fight the battle that he was in honour, in conscience, and in duty bound
to deliver. Next day the wind came fair for Corfu, and Doria, his ships
untouched, unscathed, unharmed, put his helm up and sailed away followed by
his fleet.

Sandoval records the fact that Barbarossa, roaring with laughter the while,
was accustomed to say that Doria had even put out his lanterns in order
that no one might see whither he had fled. This was an allusion to the
fact--or supposition--that Doria extinguished on that night the great poop
lantern carried by him as admiral.

When Soliman the Magnificent heard of the result of this battle he caused
the town of Yamboli, where he was at the time, to be illuminated, and in
the excess of his joy he added one hundred thousand aspres to the revenues
of the conqueror; there were processions to the Grand Mosque, and all Islam
rejoiced and sang the praises of the invincible admiral who had humbled to
the dust the pride of the Christian and caused the dreaded Doria to fly
from before the fleet of the Sultan.

This, the most historical, if not the greatest feat in the life of
Kheyr-ed-Din Barbarossa, was for him a triumph indeed; with a vastly
inferior force he had driven from the field of battle his "rival in glory,"
as he himself had denominated Andrea Doria, and he had accomplished this
feat notwithstanding the almost mutinous condition of his own forces. In
spite of this it is with Condalmiero and with him alone that the glory of
this day must rest; alone, absolutely unsupported as we have seen, he
fought one of those fights which bring the heart into the mouth when we
read of them; the stern pride of the Venetian noble, who despised as
canaille the pirate hosts by whom he was assailed, had its counterpart in
the sturdy valour of Chief Bombardier Francisco d'Arba and the other
nameless heroes of which that good company was composed; to them we render
that homage which so justly is their due.

The whole campaign of Prevesa, as we have said, is a curious study in
hesitation, in dilatoriness, in absolute lack of initiative and virility on
the part of the two chief actors in the drama: that Doria should fly from
the field of battle in an untouched ship is only one degree less incredible
than that Barbarossa should have relinquished his attack on the _Galleon of
Venice_. It would almost seem a