n for the first time Barbarossa realized his immense good
fortune in being the first in the bay. Outnumbered as he was, a fight
in the open sea might have ended in the total destruction of his navy;
but secure in an ample harbour, on a friendly coast, behind a bar
which the heavier vessels of the enemy could not cross, he could wait
his opportunity and take the foe at a disadvantage. The danger was
that Doria might disembark his guns and attack from the shores of the
gulf, and to meet this risk some of the Turkish captains insisted on
landing their men and trying to erect earthworks for their
protection; but the fire from the Christian ships soon stopped this
manoeuvre. Barbarossa had never expected Doria to hazard a landing,
and he was right. The old admiral of Charles V. was not likely to
expose his ships to the risk of a sally from the Turks just when he
had deprived them of the men and guns that could alone defend them.

The two fleets watched each other warily. Doria and Barbarossa had at
last come face to face for a great battle, but, strange as it may
seem, neither cared to begin: Barbarossa was conscious of serious
numerical inferiority; Doria was anxious for the safety of his fifty
big sailing vessels, on the heavy artillery of which he most relied,
but which a contrary wind might drive to destruction on the hostile
coast. As it was, his guideship on the extreme left had but a fathom
of water under her keel. Each felt keenly the weighty responsibility
of his position, and even the sense that now at last the decisive day
of their long rivalry had come could not stir them from their policy
of prudence. Moreover, it was no longer a question of the prowess of
hot-blooded youth: Doria and Barbarossa and Capello were all men of
nearly seventy years, and Doria was certainly not the man he once was;
politics had spoilt him.

So the two great admirals waited and eyed each other's strength. Will
Barbarossa come out? Or must Doria risk the passage of the bar and
force his way in to the encounter? Neither event happened: but on the
morning of the 27th the Corsairs rubbed their eyes to feel if they
were asleep, as they saw the whole magnificent navy of Christendom,
anchor a-peak, sailing slowly and majestically--_away!_ Were the
Christians afraid? Anyhow no one, not even Barbarossa, could hold the
Turks back now. Out they rushed in hot pursuit, not thinking or
caring--save their shrewd captain--whether this were not a fein