The Knights of St. John

by Augusta Theodosia Drane

The assaults on the mole of St. Nicholas continued for several days; and always on the most dangerous post might be seen the form of D’Aubusson. At once, captain and soldier, he refused all solicitations to retire. “The post of honour is here,” he replied to Carretto, who afterwards succeeded him, “and belongs of right to your grand master;” adding with a pleasant smile, “and, after all, if I am killed, there is more to hope for you than to fear for me:” words which were afterwards taken as a prophecy of Carretto’s future elevation. A ball having struck his helmet from his head, he quietly replaced it with the steel-cap of a fallen soldier, without seeming to heed the danger. Bosio has left us a striking picture of him during the progress of the defences at St. Nicholas. To complete them, it was necessary for the workmen to labour continuously for seventy hours, during which time a constant watch was kept to guard them from surprise. D’Aubusson never left the spot. “His armour,” says the historian above named, “was gilt or golden, and always kept highly polished and shining; and at the head of his chosen and valiant squadron he sat on his horse the whole night long without moving, or taking a moment’s repose; and the splendour of the moon reflected from that gilt cuirass rendered his figure a clear and striking object.” This long night-watch, and the spectacle of the grand master in his golden armour, has been noticed by almost every historian of the order; and doubtless there must have been something unusually solemn and beautiful in his appearance, which distinguished him from the numbers around him, whose conduct was nevertheless scarcely less devoted than his own.

He had all the true courtesy and modesty of chivalry; listening to the counsel of all, before declaring his own sentiments, which never failed of being received as law; he had a smile and a patient word for all; and yet withal his prompt resolution never suffered itself, when once formed, to be changed or re-considered. And all the while, great general and brave soldier as he was, he found time and strength to be carpenter, engineer, or labourer, as occasion called. He drew the plan of his walls and ramparts, and worked at them with his own hands; nor was there a sally to be made, or an attack to be repelled, but D’Aubusson was to be found at the head of the combatants. Nor was he less the Christian, because he was so entirely a man of genius and of war; his devotion harmonised with the rest of his character in its admirable simplicity. The defence of the city was not begun till after the offering of solemn prayers in all the churches; and then the image of our Lady of Philermos was exposed, and the cause of Rhodes committed to her patronage with something of a childlike trustful confidence; and with our Lady and D’Aubusson to protect them, the Rhodians felt secure of victory.

Foiled in his first attempts, the Pasha now resolved on a night attack, which was to be conducted with such secrecy and despatch, and with such ingenious contrivances to boot, as should secure both a surprise and a successful issue. A bridge was constructed to reach from the mainland which the infidels had occupied to the mole of St. Nicholas; and in the night an anchor was let fall close under the foot of the tower, and the floating pont made fast to it by a strong cable. It happened, however, that a Christian sailor, one Rogers, an Englishman by birth, lying concealed near the spot, had observed the whole transaction; and no sooner had the Turks withdrawn, than plunging intrepidly into the sea, he cut the cable, and drew up the coil upon the strand. Thus was the design entirely frustrated; for the bridge being cast loose from its fastenings, was speedily broken to pieces by the waves. But the pasha had caused a second to be constructed, which, being carried across in the stillness of the night, was made last to the mole two hours before daybreak on the morning of the 9th of June; and while all was yet dark, the Turks began their noiseless passage over it; at the same time, a flotilla of light boats was sent to co-operate on the seaward side. So quietly was the manœuvre effected, and such a perfect silence reigned throughout the Christian defences, that the Turkish commander flattered himself that his design was undetected. But D’Aubusson was ready for him; and while the Turks were preparing to make good their landing on the mole, behind the guns upon the wall stood his resolute cannoneers with matches burning; a steady line of muskets waited but the word to discharge their murderous hail in the faces of the foe; and from every more distant quarter whence the stormers could be reached, the guns on the ramparts had been brought to bear upon the point assailed. Suddenly, from the depth of the darkness there issued a very storm of fire, which canned death and dismay into the midst of the advancing columns. At the same moment the Rhodian fire-ships bore down upon the Turkish galleys; horrible was the confusion;—the roaring of the flames; the incessant cannonading; the fire-balls blazing and flaming; the yells of the combatants; the shrieks and groans of the maimed and the dying. On the mole, on the beaches, on the waters, the battle raged with most terrific fury.

In spite of the tremendous fire poured on them from all sides, the infidels plant their ladders at the foot, and, brandishing their cimeters, scale the bastions. The assault is all along the front; the grand master stands at the breach, and around him his gallant knights, making a rampart with their bodies. The ladders are thrown down, only to be raised again by the determined foe; massive stones and boiling oil and streams of flaming fire are launched upon them,—still they press on; and those who are below in the boats and triremes discharge volley after volley of musketry and showers of arrows from their cross-bows at the knights, or endeavour with grappling-irons, which they throw upon the ramparts, to drag them down and stab them as they fall. The advantage, however, was with the Christians; and dawn disclosed to the Turkish commander the desperate condition of his troops,—the sea and the strand strewn with corpses, and the attacking columns every where giving way before the steady valour of the Christians. It revealed, too, to the defenders, the floating bridge thronged with Turkish succours hurrying to the assault, and enabled them to point their guns immediately upon it, and shatter it to pieces. From near midnight to ten in the morning the attack and the defence endured with unabated fury; but at length the triumph of the knights was secured; every man who had mounted the mole was killed. In vain with menaces and wild entreaties the leaders urged their troops to sustain the contest; the rout was general and complete; the victorious knights precipitated their flying enemies from the mole, and pursued them even into the waters of the harbour. Conspicuous among the Christian combatants was Anthony Fradin, a Franciscan friar, as bold in fight as he was eloquent of speech, who, plunging shoulder-deep into the sea, with his own right hand struck off many a turbaned head. In this night-assault fell 2500 infidels, and among them their renowned commander, Ibrahim Bey, the sultan’s son-in-law. The loss on the Rhodian side was also great; and twelve of the brave knights of St. John were among the slain.

But this repulse served only to rouse the fury of the vizier to a greater height. Since St. Nicholas had proved impregnable in its ruin, he directed his next attack against the city itself. It was so torn and shaken by the previous cannonade, that, to use the words of D’Aubusson, “it retained not the least resemblance to what it was.” The principal attack, however, was made on a portion of the walls which had remained as yet uninjured, in the Jewish quarter of the town. “Eight tremendous cannon, of the largest size ever seen, ceased not night and day from scourging those groaning flanks;” never for a moment was the hideous roaring of this artillery silenced; but whilst the walls gradually crumbled to pieces, the besieged, under the direction of the grand master, busily employed themselves in erecting new ramparts behind them, “planting stakes of thick green timber, and covering them with earth and branches of stout tough underwood and thorns,”—a work which it seemed incredible should have been accomplished in so short a time. But every one worked with equal ardour night and day. D’Aubusson superintended all himself, and set the example to the rest by incessant labour; men and women, Christians and Jews,—all lent their aid; the very nuns coming out of their convents, and bearing provision to the workmen; and when the Turks thought they had effected an easy entrance into the place by the destruction of the wall, they were confounded to find a new and stronger rampart, risen as if by magic behind the ruins, and beyond it a wide deep ditch, which had to be filled before any approach could be made. Immense loads of stone were now brought and thrown into the ditch; and meanwhile the cannonade continued its ceaseless roar, accompanied by many other frightful kinds of artillery then in use: globes of fire and flaming arrows, and the serpent-guns that sent fire-balls whining and hissing through the air like deadly flying reptiles. The sound of the artillery was heard from Kos, a hundred miles to the west of Rhodes, as far as Castelrosso, the same distance to the east; the bombardment never ceased for a minute, and the utmost exertions of the citizens were continually called for to extinguish the flames of the burning houses. All the sick and infirm were hidden away in underground cellars and caves to escape those crushing marble balls, which were the most destructive of all the engines of attack. But the war was underground also; and by many a subterranean ditch, most cunningly concealed, did the enemy endeavour to steal into the city, or to ruin its defences. To resist the effect of the ponderous marble balls, D’Aubusson contrived to roof in one quarter of the city so securely, that the women and children were completely sheltered; whilst under his orders, the city carpenters constructed a machine for throwing back these unwelcome visitors into the midst of the assailants; and so enormous was their weight, that, we are told, they not only crushed all on whom they fell, but often dashed into and destroyed the mines with all whom they contained. This machine the knights jestingly termed the “tribute,” in allusion to that demanded by Mahomet, and which they devised this novel mode of paying.

Meanwhile the Turks had succeeded in forming a causeway of stones across one portion of the ditch, which it took them eight-and-thirty days to accomplish. Thus they completely filled up the fosse, and raised a mound level with the ramparts, by which they could have readily mounted on the walls; but when they thought their work was finished, they were not a little exasperated to see it sinking and diminishing; for the Rhodians were every night working unperceived at its foundations, and carrying away the stones noiselessly into the city. Perceiving, therefore, that they were losing time, they prepared to storm without delay, and to this end proceeded to cannonade that portion of the walls which was close to the fortifications so rapidly repaired; and such was the tempest that beat upon these new defences, that no living thing could appear on them for a moment without being swept away. In the course of one day and night three hundred of those monstrous globes of rock were hurled at the torn and shattered walls. It was then that the true character of Master George was finally detected. He was known to be an engineer of singular skill; and the knights, under whose charge he had been, and who had not altogether shared in the grand master’s suspicions, led him to the spot to ask his opinion and advice. It may easily be believed what kind of counsel they received; yet, to disguise his treachery, Master George affected the utmost ardour, and insisted on working a cannon with his own hands. In doing so, however, he betrayed himself; the quick eye of his guards remarked that he fired without aim, and, as if by some preconcerted signal, seemed to draw the enemy’s fire on the weakest point. He was at once seized and interrogated, and, confessing the whole design, received the richly-merited reward of his treachery and his crimes. The assault was now evidently close at hand; nothing remained to keep the Turks from the attempt; and it is said a few Spanish and Italian knights ventured to hint at the prudence of coming to honourable terms with the vizier, who, well knowing the character of his opponents’ valour, had shown a disposition to treat for a surrender. D’Aubusson, calling the knights around him, addressed them coldly, as though no longer members of the order. “Gentlemen,” he said,—a term never applied to the knights, who were always addressed as brothers,—“if any of you do not feel secure here, the port is not yet so entirely blockaded but I shall be able to find means for you to retire. If, however, you choose to remain, let me hear no more of surrender, otherwise I shall certainly cause you to be put to death.” These words, and that he called them “gentlemen,” stung them to the quick; they threw themselves at his feet, and declared they were, and would ever be, his knights and subjects.

Nevertheless it could not be denied but that the crisis was one of great peril. So incessant was the cannonading that no time was given to repair the breaches; the fosses were in many parts filled up; the walls were every where in ruins; and no obstacle remained to oppose the entrance of the Turks into the town save the heroic valour of the defenders. Scarcely had the sun appeared above the horizon on the morning of the 27th of July, when, at the firing of a mortar as a signal, the advanced troops of the enemy rushed forward with a tremendous shout, and with the utmost rapidity scaled the walls, bore down all before them, and planted their colours before the besieged could offer any effectual resistance. And now, without prompt relief, it was all over with Rhodes; but that relief came in the person of the grand master. “Perceiving,” such is his own account, “a great conflict at hand, we raised and planted firmly the banner representing our dear Lord Jesus Christ, and beside it that of our order directly facing the enemy; and then ensued a battle of two hours.” Crying, “Come, my brothers, let us fight for the faith and for Rhodes, or be buried under the ruins,” he hastened to the spot, surrounded by a chosen band of comrades. Already 2000 Turks had occupied the ramparts, and behind them 4000 more were advancing and preparing to mount to the assault. But, nothing daunted, D’Aubusson, seizing a ladder, planted it with his own hands against the wall in spite of a shower of stones, and was the first[16] to mount, pike in hand, followed by the rest of his party. Owing to the character of the ground, and the fact that the Turks had already formed a position on the top of the ramparts, they were now themselves the besieged, and the assault was from the garrison. The valour displayed on both sides was of the most signal description. The Turks, says the historian, “were as lions rushing upon their prey;” the Christians, “like the Machabees, fighting for their religion and their liberties.” The fury of the infidels was well-nigh irresistible; many of the knights were crushed under the weight of the heavy stones which were dashed down upon their heads as they strove to mount the platform which the enemy had occupied. Twice was D’Aubusson himself struck down, and thrown from the ramparts; but, covered with wounds, he returned to the charge without heeding his danger, and at length, by sheer force, the infidels were driven from their position; and the mass of the Christians throwing themselves on their ranks, a desperate struggle commenced. The grand master slew many of the boldest with his own hands; and some 300 or more were tumbled from the walls into the city, where they were instantly slain.

But their losses were quickly supplied by reinforcements from the vast multitude that covered the field below, so thickly that the eye could not discern the ground on which they stood. And now a body of Janizaries, urged on by the hope of a large reward, charged furiously on the knights, and fought their way to where the grand master stood, his armour flashing in the blaze of the musketry, and the short spear he carried red with Turkish blood. One while he seemed completely surrounded and overpowered by these desperate men; but though wounded in several places, and bleeding profusely, still he held his ground, and laid many of his assailants dead at his feet. His gallant comrades, fearing for his safety, and reckless of their own lives so that they could save that of their beloved commander, threw themselves with renewed energy upon the dense mass of their assailants; and such was the fury of their assault, that “at length,” to resume D’Aubusson’s own description, “the Turks, hard pressed, broken, wearied out, terrified, and covered with wounds, turned and fled, and so hastily that they hindered one another, and did but increase their own destruction. There fell in that conflict 3500 of them, as we learned by the corpses which we afterwards burnt for fear of infection. The panic was contagious, spreading from one rank to another, till at length the whole Moslem army was in flight.” It was indeed a complete and unexpected victory. In vain did the vizier attempt to rally his vast masses, now thrown into all the confusion of a hasty rout. The Christian troops, precipitating themselves from the walls, pursued the fugitives far over the plain; and Mesih Pasha himself was compelled to fly with the rest. “In these battles,” continues D’Aubusson, “we have lost many of our knights, fighting bravely in the thickest of the enemy’s squares. We ourselves, and our companions-in-arms, have had many wounds; but after placing a strong garrison on the ramparts, we returned home to give thanks to God: for surely it was not without Divine assistance that we were saved from butchery; and doubtless the Almighty God sent us that succour from heaven, lest His poor Christian people should be infected with the filth of Mahometanism.”

The infidels plainly had reckoned on nothing short of certain victory; their women had already prepared ropes for the prisoners, and wooden stakes for their torture; for it had been ordered that every living being above ten years of age should be slain or impaled alive, and the children sold as slaves. Their cruelty, however, was doomed for once to disappointment: the vizier saw plainly enough, that, after so complete a defeat, there was nothing further to be done but to embark and make the best of his way back to safe quarters, which they did with incredible speed; so that within a few days there was nothing left of their vast armament but the corpses that strewed the battle-field as thick as the forest-leaves in autumn. During the three months of siege the Turks had 9000 killed and 15,000 wounded.

It is a pious tradition, that at the moment of the last terrible assault, as the defenders, reduced to extremity, unfurled the banners of Christ, our Lady, and St. John, and cried aloud to heaven for help, the Moslems were stupefied by the sudden apparition on the battlements of a lady of dazzling and extraordinary beauty, who extended a shield over the devoted city. By her side stood one whom the Rhodians recognised as St. John Baptist, their patron saint; and the heavenly vision struck such terror into the hearts of the assailants that they instantly turned and fled. This account was at the time universally believed by the Rhodians; and the relief of the island has always been reckoned as one among the many victories of Mary. The Turkish historian, Afendy, however, has a different tale, which has been adopted by certain modern writers, that but for the cupidity of Mesih Pasha the forts and the island must have fallen; that at the moment when the Ottoman standard was planted on the walls, he ordered proclamation to be made that pillage was forbidden, and that the rich plunder of Rhodes belonged to the sultan; that so great in consequence was the disgust and indignation of the soldiery, that the storming columns halted in mid-career; the battalions outside the town refused to mount the breach; the Christians seized the moment when the ranks were wavering to precipitate themselves upon the besiegers, and the retreat commenced. One would wish to have something more than the bare word of this writer in support of an account so strongly at variance with Turkish custom, and with the character and real interests of the pasha; but even if it be true, it derogates nothing from the ability or the heroism of the defence; neither, be it added, did the fact, if fact it were, diminish at the time the importance of the event or the magnitude of the result. The outpost of Christendom was saved; Rhodes was rescued for nearly half a century; and when it fell, it was into the hands of a conqueror who knew how to appreciate the courage of a vanquished foe, and, infidel as he was, to keep faith with Christians.