aring
before his master the Emperor with the famous corsair as his prisoner. He
saw a great fort rising before his very eyes at the mouth of the harbour,
and merely smiled serenely; he sent off to Sicily and Naples for
reinforcements in order that when the psychological moment should arise he
might crush the corsair stronghold so thoroughly that it should never rise
again. In the despatches which he sent he said "the fox is trapped"--"which
news rejoiced all parts of Christendom, and most powerful succours came
daily flocking to the seaports from every quarter; so eager were the
sufferers to revenge themselves on this so much dreaded corsair."

The history of what now happened is given by Don Luys de Marmol Caravajal
in his "Descripcion general de Affrica," which was printed in Granada, "en
casa de Rene Rabat impresor de libros ano de 1573," or only some twenty
years or so after these occurrences; it is set forth in his chapter
entitled "Como Andrea Doria fue en buscar de these occurrences; it is set
forth in his chapter Dragut Arraez." We have also the authority of that
eminent historian, M. L'Abbe de Vertot.

Captain Juan Vasquez Coronado journeyed to Naples carrying with him letters
from Andrea Doria to Don Pedro de Toledo, requesting that the Viceroy would
send him all the galleys in Naples, carrying as many soldiers as possible,
pointing out that he had Dragut in a trap, from which he could not possibly
escape, but that this time he wished to make security doubly secure.
Letters to the same purport were also sent to Don Juan de Vega, the Viceroy
of Sicily, and to Marco Centurion at the admiral's own city of Genoa. Doria
was leaving nothing to chance this time. Meanwhile, great earthworks had
been thrown up at the Bocca de Cantara at the entrance of the harbour by
Dragut, and any ship which approached within range was most furiously
bombarded. This served to amuse Andrea Doria, who, confident that the jaws
of the trap had closed, kept a sharp look-out for vessels issuing from the
harbour, but otherwise concerned himself not at all about the
entrenchments. Was not Naples humming with the note of preparation? Would
not the Genoese come in their thousands to the summons of their renowned
chieftain? Could not the Viceroy of Sicily be trusted to work his best to
gain the favour of his Imperial master?

"Time and I are two" was the favourite expression of King Philip II. of
Spain; the same idea might have crossed the min