ith the Turks at sea, the Powers of
Southern Europe resolved to strike one more blow on land, and recover
Tripoli. A fleet of nearly a hundred galleys and ships, gathered from
Spain, Genoa, "the Religion," the Pope, from all quarters, with the
Duke de Medina-Celi at the head, assembled at Messina. Doria was too
old to command, but his kinsman, Giovanni Andrea, son of his loved and
lost Giannettino, led the Genoese galleys. The Fates seemed adverse
from the outset. Five times the expedition put to sea; five times was
it driven back by contrary winds.[43] At last, on February 10, 1560,
it was fairly away for the African coast. Here fresh troubles awaited
it. Long delays in crowded vessels had produced their disastrous
effects: fevers and scurvy and dysentery were working their terrible
ravages among the crews, and two thousand corpses were flung into the
sea. It was impossible to lay siege to Tripoli with a diseased army,
and when actually in sight of their object the admirals gave orders to
return to Jerba.

A sudden descent quickly gave them the command of the beautiful
island. The Arab sheykh whose people cultivated it was as ready to pay
tribute to the Spaniard as to the Corsair. Medina-Celi and his troops
accordingly set to work undisturbed at the erection of a fortress
strong enough to baffle the besieging genius even of the Turks. In two
months a strong castle was built, with all scientific earthworks, and
the admiral prepared to carry home such troops as were not needed for
its defence.

Unhappily for him, he had lingered too long. He had wished to see the
defences complete, and had trusted to the usual practice of the Turks,
not to put to sea before May was advanced. He was about to prepare for
departure when news came that the Turkish fleet had been seen at Goza.
Instantly all was panic. Valiant gentlemen forgot their valour, forgot
their coolness, forgot how strong a force by sea or land they
mustered: one thought alone was uppermost--the Turks were upon them!
Giovanni Doria hurried on board and embarked his Genoese; Medina-Celi
more methodically and with something like _sang froid_ personally
supervised the embarcation of his men; but before they could make out
of the strait, where Dragut had so narrowly escaped capture, the dread
Corsair himself, and Ochiali, and Pi[=a]li Pasha were upon them. Then
ensued a scene of confusion that baffles description. Despairing of
weathering the north side of Jerba the pan