The Sultan's Admiral (11 page)

It was to Khizr, then, that the Turks in Algiers looked for advice in the present situation. Even in appearance he was a born leader: “His stature was advantageous; his Mien portly and majestick; well proportioned and robust; very hairy, with a Beard extremely bushy; his Brows and Eye-lashes remarkably long and thick; Before his Hair turned grey and hoary, it was a bright Auburn; so that the Surname Barbarossa, or Red-Beard, was conferred on him, rather to preserve the memory of his Brother Aruj, than from any Title he had to that Appellation . .

Barbarossa was, of course, only the nickname by which he— like his brother—was known to Christians. To Turks and fellow Moslems he was to be known in his lifetime and ever since not as Khizr, his baptismal name, but as Kheir-ed-Din—“Protector of Religion.” This informal title seems to have been bestowed upon him during the next few years. Certainly it is as Kheir-ed-Din that the records name him during the rest of his life. Kheir-ed-Din might indeed be translated as “Defender of the Faith.” It is a curious thought that at about the same time that Khizr Barbarossa acquired this name, King Henry VIII of England received the title “Defender of the Faith” from Pope Leo X (in return for his defence of the papacy against Martin Luther in 1521). But whereas the successors of Leo X were to regret having bestowed such a mistaken epithet upon the “Heretic Henry,” Kheir-ed-Din remained a fitting name for Khizr Barbarossa to the end of his days. He was to prove a bastion of the Moslem faith in the Mediterranean Sea, and such a scourge to Christians that he also deserved the name later given to Dragut, one of his chief lieutenants, “the Drawn Sword of Islam.”

Twenty-two large galleots belonging to the Turks lay in Algiers. The immediate thought of their leaders was to embark, leave the city, and make their way further east. Not only was there a large Spanish force established at Tlemcen—possibly already on its way to attack them—but news of Aruj’s death had put heart into the Algerians, and there could be no doubt that they would try to compound an alliance with the Spaniards. The fort on the island was still in the hands of its Spanish garrison, and the Turks fully expected that they might soon find part of Charles V’s fleet investing the harbour. The obvious course was to escape while the going was good, but wiser counsels prevailed. Their ships were ready, the slaves and stores were embarked, they could leave at an hour’s notice—better then, perhaps, to wait a little and see what the Marquis of Comares intended to do.

The latter now made a blunder so gross that it still seems almost unbelievable: “Having settled all his affairs at Tlemcen, [he] withdrew all his Spaniards to Oran, and soon shipped away, for Spain, all except his own proper garrison . . Presumably the Marquis felt that in routing Aruj’s troops and killing the Turkish leader, he had eliminated all the troublesome elements in that part of North Africa. But, by his failure to follow up his victory and drive the Turks once and for all out of the Algerian coastline, he missed an opportunity which, as Morgan remarked as late as the eighteenth century, “it is very unlikely will ever again offer.”

The news was not slow to reach Kheir-ed-Din in Algiers. He heaved a sigh of relief and looked round to see what needed to be done to secure his harbours, towns, and lands. Kheir-ed-Din Barbarossa now “reinforced his garrisons along the coast, at Meliana, Shershell, Tenez, and Mustaghanim, and. struck up alliances with the great Arab tribes of the interior.” At the same time it seems almost certain that he confirmed his position with the Sultan in Constantinople.

Kheir-ed-Din “got a galleot instantly fitted out for Constantinople, with a letter for his Ottoman Highness, accompanied with rich presents for that monarch, and his chief ministers and favourites; all this he entrusted to the care and direction of his Lieutenant, a faithful and prudent person … The purport of the letter and message was to inform the Grand Signor of the situation of affairs in those parts of Africa, to interest his assistance, favour and protection . .

The probability is that Kheir-ed-Din did indeed send a ship off to the Sultan. His brother and he had already been in communication with the Sublime Porte—and what more natural than that the survivor should write to the Sultan to acquaint him with Aruj’s death? Aruj had become ruler of a large section of North Africa, and it could hardly be considered of little importance to the Ottoman Empire as to who was now the master of that territory. Selim I, who died in 1520, was engaged in conquering Syria and Egypt. It was certainly to his advantage to have these fellow Turks on his left flank holding down Algeria, as well as occupying all the attention of the Spanish monarch. “Bigoted, bloodthirsty, and relentless,” as Selim has been called, he was also a conspicuous example of those Turkish rulers who have “understood their trade.”

At any rate, from this time onward, Barbarossa was officially accepted by the Sultan as Beylerbey, or Governor-General, of Algiers. This meant that, for the first time, the occupation of this section of the North African coast was an accepted fact by the Sublime Porte. In the career of Kheir-ed-Din Barbarossa this is as important a moment as when Queen Elizabeth I officially acknowledged Francis Drake by knighting him in 1581 aboard the
Golden Hind.

In 1519, the first year of Kheir-ed-Din’s rule of Algiers, he and his men were put to a severe test—one that they had earlier feared wouid come from the land forces of the Marquis of Comares. The King of Spain realised the error of the previous year, and decided to have done once and for all with the Turkish threat on the North African coast. He intended to eliminate this danger to his sea communications with Naples and Sicily, reinstate garrisons at all the major North African ports, drive out the Turks, restore the original Moslem rulers, and establish satisfactory peace treaties and trading agreements with them. The ruler of Tlemcen and the exiled prince of Tenez were approached, and agreed to give their support if the Spaniards would strike at the heart of the infection—the Turkish forces stationed under Barbarossa in AJgiers.

Throughout the spring and early summer the galleys passed and repassed across the Mediterranean Sea, carrying messages between one ruler and another, for this operation was seen as something so important that it transcended national quarrels. Only France, a country which “led an uneasy life with most of its Christian neighbours,” does not seem to have contributed to a naval force that amounted to little less than a European armada. Although estimates of the number of ships vary considerably, it would seem that there were about fifty war galleys to spearhead the attack, while the number of transports varies from anything between 200 and 450. Among those who contributed galleys to the fleet were the Knights of St. John, the Pope, the Kingdom of Naples, Monaco, and Spain, while Fernando de Gonzaga and Andrea Doria brought their own fleets, seven galleys in the case of Gonzaga, and fourteen galleys from Genoa under Doria. This, then, was no raid, no simple replenishment of the Spanish garrison on the island of Algiers, but a deliberate attempt to drive the Turks out of North Africa.

Unfortunately, as was so often the case in those days (and indeed it is far from unknown in modern military and naval planning), the organisation of so large an enterprise took a great deal longer than the planners had anticipated. High midsummer, when the great bay of Algiers burns under the eye of the sun and when little more than land and sea breezes distract the surface of the water, would have been the ideal time to launch the attack. The great galleys could have swaggered down easily from the embarkation port of Barcelona, while the transports could have inched their way southwards over a placid sea. But the weeks went by, and still there were delays. German and Italian troops had not yet arrived; galleys were held up by accidents or by the slowness of dockyards; and Spanish cavalry had to be withdrawn from Sicily, transported across the Mediterranean, disembarked for recuperation, and then re-embarked again. The mustering of an army and the transport of men, munitions, and cavalry by galleys and slow sailing vessels were among the main problems of military commanders in those days.

All this activity in the Mediterranean, and on the coast and in the seaports of Spain, could hardly have gone unnoticed by Kheir-ed-Din. Both he and his Turkish lieutenants recognised that if they had escaped attack the previous year, they must certainly be prepared for it in the near future. The money which had been extracted from the unwilling chief citizens of Algiers was spent on arms and ammunition and on reinforcing the city’s defences. Throughout the long summer the galley slaves, relieved from their duties at the oar (for no expeditions were planned for this year), toiled under the harsh sun constructing walls and building that fortress which Kheir-ed-Din had decided would one day dominate not only the Bay of Algiers but the townsfolk themselves. He had also decided in view of the naval forces being prepared against him that this was certainly no time to risk a naval engagement. His galleots were excellent for their task, but as unsuitable against large war galleys as destroyers would be against heavy cruisers. Some were sent away to Djerba, others scattered up and down the coast in friendly ports like Djidjelli, while only a limited number were kept beached outside Algiers to provide an escape route for the Turks if things went against them.

Although there is no evidence to show that such was the case, yet there is a possibility that Kheir-ed-Din had received from the Sultan riot only a recognition of his overlordship of the Algerian coastline, but also some military assistance. This may have been no more than a token force of janissaries, sent to show that Selim regarded the Beylerbey of Algiers as worthy of a ruler’s escort. Both Morgan and Lane-Poole have it that “the Sultan sent a guard of two thousand Janissaries to his viceroy’s aid, and offered special inducements to such of his subjects as would pass westwards to Algiers and help to strengthen the Corsair’s authority …’’To judge from the Turkish reaction to the threat to their city, one may indeed believe that they had received substantial reinforcements. The year before, when threatened by a far smaller force under the Marquis of Comares, they had seriously considered abandoning the city. Yet this year, when threatened by the full might of Spain and by the sea power of Genoa as well as other Christian powers, there seems to have been no question but that the Turks willingly accepted the prospect of a siege.

The summer was nearly gone when “His Catholic Majesty … sent the Armada expressly to drive the Turks from that country; which he presumed might easily be effected since the defeat and death of the Arch-Corsair Barbarossa.” Unfortunately for the King and for his troops, ships, and seamen, a greater leader than the first Barbarossa confronted them. But the greatest enemy of all was to prove the weather, which on the Algerian coastline is always a potential enemy to ships and sailors once the summer calm has broken.

Warning the modern navigator about this treacherous part of the sea, the
Admiralty Pilot
writes: “Off the coast of Algeria, the winds set in from westward, as a rule, increasing to gale force with the passage of the cold front of the depression and the accompanying shift to north-westerly or north-north-westerly; in these parts, the gales are frequently preceded by a heavy swell from northward, and their onset is accompanied by characteristic cold-front cloud and thunderstorms with heavy rain. From time to time, after the gale has moderated, the north-westerly winds back again towards westerly with the approach of secondary cold fronts, and the gale is renewed …”

In vain had Admiral Hugo de Moncada and his other captains warned Charles against the weather to be expected so late in the year. In vain had they pleaded with him to postpone the expedition until the following spring.

As the great fleet hove in sight, running down from the northwest into the Bay of Algiers, the native Algerians began to take to their heels. They started hiding their valuables in wells and cisterns, loading their womenfolk and children aboard horses and donkeys, and bringing the life of the city to a standstill. But if they were frightened of the advancing enemy, they were even more frightened of their Turkish ruler and his troops. Kheir-ed-Din did not hesitate to warn all potential refugees and looters that immediate execution would be their fate unless they did exactly as he told them. They were to remain in the city and carry on life as normal. He and his troops would protect them against the Spaniards. Remembering the previous executions, they obeyed.

It was St. Bartholomew’s Day, August 24, when the fleet arrived off the harbour of Algiers. The northerly swell lifting under their sterns as they came to anchor should have warned the captains of the ships. Perhaps, indeed, it did, but they had little option other than to obey Charles’s commands—land the troops, seize Algiers, and exterminate the Turks. Some of the troops had even got ashore—to be attacked immediately by Barbarossa’s men—when the storm broke. The wind came out of the north. The waves, which had been building up all the way from the Gulf of Lions, began to burst in rolling fury as they met the North African shore: the first major obstacle in over four hundred miles of open water. Anchors dragged, cables broke, ships collided, oarports burst under the weight of water, and heavy transports encumbered by the gross windage of their high sterns were flung shorewards by wind and sea. Soon the invasion fleet was scattered up and down the coast. The war galleys hauled themselves laboriously offshore under the groaning labour of their slaves and the crack of the overseers’ whips, but there was little hope for the galleasses and the sailing ships. The angry shore claimed them—and the Turks waited around the foam-fringed rocks and murderous sandbanks to kill and capture, to loot and to destroy.

It was one of the worst disasters in the storm-clouded history of the North African coast. Hundreds of men were drowned and over twenty ships were total wrecks. Others which lurched ashore were captured by the waiting Turks; their crews and soldiers were seized and sent to the slave quarters. One huge car-rack, we learn, was “full of soldiers, and officers and … many persons of distinction … Her equipage might have been all saved had they held out until the storm abated, when the galleys returned to pick up what they could.” Kheir-ed-Din, however, went down in person and sent a flag of truce to them requesting the surrender of their ship. They agreed to his terms. But when they disembarked it was only with difficulty that Barbarossa and his Turks prevented them from being killed by the Moorish cavalry. Morgan quotes an anecdote concerning this event which has all the true flavour of Kheir-ed-Din’s personality. Having saved the Spaniards from’ the undisciplined fury of the Moors, he asked them whether they themselves agreed that “persons of rank and distinction should always stand to their agreements?” Upon the Spaniards replying that such was certainly the case, he asked them why it was that, after the battle in which his brother had lost his life, the Turks who had agreed to submit and lay down their arms had been massacred to a man. “Why,” he asked, “did your General break his word with the Turks to whom he promised life and liberty and, with all their baggage, free leave to go where they pleased, and yet they were all killed?”