The Knights of St. John

by Augusta Theodosia Drane

Nevertheless we shall hereafter see the Ottomans encamped for a second time before the city of Vienna, and shall have to relate the story of its glorious deliverance, which forms one of the most striking features in the history of the struggle between the Crescent and the Cross.

CHAPTER VIII.

Exploits of the Knights in Africa—Taking of Tunis—The great carrack—Expedition against Algiers—Tempest off the coast of Barbary—Taking of Mehdijé—Admirable charity of the Knights—Dragut attacks Malta; failure of the expedition—Fall of Tripoli—Election of John de la Valette—Solyman prepares for the siege of Malta—Description of the city and its defences—Character of La Valette, and his address to his troops.

It was but natural that the gratitude of the order towards the emperor, to whom it owed its present independence, should be eagerly manifested on the occasion of his enterprise against Barbary; and accordingly, during the twenty years that succeeded the death of L’Isle Adam, we find the Knights of Malta foremost in every engagement with the corsairs of Algiers and Tunis, and earning a reputation on the coasts of Africa not unworthy of their ancient fame. The northern provinces of Africa had gradually fallen into the power of the Moorish pirates, under their celebrated chief Barbarossa;[38] and their constant descents from thence on the coasts of Spain and Italy rendered a declaration of war from the emperor not merely just but actually necessary.

The sieges of Goletta and Tunis opened the campaign; and at both places the valour of the knights contributed in no small degree to the success of the Christian arms. At Tunis the scarlet banner of St. John was seen first in the assault, first also to be planted on the bastion, surrounded by its knights, whose white crosses rendered them conspicuous to the whole army. Their soldierly appearance, when they presented themselves before the emperor, drew an expression of admiration from his lips: “These are your brethren,” he said, turning to the Prince of Portugal, a member of the order; “had we more of them, we might be sure of victory.” And, indeed, the victory, so far as Tunis was concerned, might certainly be attributed to them; if, as we are told, the flight of Barbarossa was occasioned by an incident within the fortress, thus related by Vertot. There was among the slaves confined at Tunis a certain Knight of St. John, by name Paul Simconi, the same who, when only eighteen years of age, defended the Isle of Lero against the infidels with surpassing courage. On the approach of the imperial army, Simconi determined on a bold stroke for liberty. Gaining over his jailers, he contrived to break his own chains and those of his fellow-prisoners, and, proceeding to the armory of the castle, they all armed themselves with whatever came first to hand, and falling on the Turkish garrison cut them to pieces, and made themselves masters of the fortress. Barbarossa, hearing the tumult, hastened to the castle gates, but was received with a fire of musketry; and discovering what had happened, exclaimed, “All is lost now these dogs are masters of the place!” and immediately took to flight. When Charles entered the city,[39] therefore, he was met by Simconi, accompanied by 6000 Christians, all of whom he had contrived to deliver from their chains; and as he embraced the gallant hospitaller he exclaimed, “Brave knight, blessed for ever be your generous valour, which has assisted my conquests, and added to the glory of your order!”

In these battles on the coast of Barbary, the grand carrack of the order held a distinguished place. So very wonderful a production of naval skill cannot be passed without a word of notice, and may be given as a piece of the romance of ship-building. It was not the same which had been brought from Rhodes, but a new one built at Nice after the accidental burning of its predecessor. It had two things in particular to be admired: first, that it was built with such precautions against infection in time of pestilence, that even while the plague raged at Nice, and the air was so pestilential that the birds dropped dead as they flew over the city, there was not a sick man known on board; next, the construction of this extraordinary vessel was such that nothing could sink it. It was sheathed in metal, and perfectly cannon-proof; but in spite of its size and weight, swift as a felucca. Its dimensions are not given; we only know that it could take in provisions of water and stores for a six-months’ voyage; that its oven baked two thousand loaves at a time; that it had eight decks, an armory for five hundred men, magnificent suites of rooms, and delicious artificial gardens, where large pots of orange, lemon, and cypress trees created a cool and fragrant shade. After this, it must be allowed that England must silence her boasts about “the Royal Harry.”

In fact, the naval skill and power of the order was fast on the increase: their reputation for boldness in navigation we may gather from the words of Charles the Fifth during a storm off the Gulf of Spezia, where he narrowly escaped shipwreck. Through the murky atmosphere some galleys were observed riding out the hurricane, and even attempting to continue their voyage in despite of the elements. “Whose are those vessels?” asked Doria in surprise; “are they madmen, who keep at sea in such weather?” “No,” replied the emperor, who overheard him; “they are only Hospitallers:—no galleys but theirs can brave a storm like this.”

In the end Barbarossa fled to Constantinople to implore the succour of Solyman; and the knights, in hourly expectation of a visit en passant from their old enemies, applied themselves to prepare for their reception. As to Tripoli, it was equally incapable of defence or fortification, yet still Charles turned a deaf ear to all representations addressed to him on the subject; it was to be held anyhow, and by the knights alone. And held it was for one-and-twenty years; during which time, in spite of its ruinous condition, the knights not only stoutly defended “the ill-conditioned place,” as it is termed by Boisgelin, but made from thence such continual aggressions on the infidels, that Tripoli and its garrison became the terror of all the corsairs of Barbary, and more than once they were driven disgracefully from its shattered walls.

During the expedition against Algiers (1541), the knights showed their usual valour. So many offered themselves as volunteers, that, had all been accepted, Malta would have been left without defenders; so that Homedez, the grand master at that time, was obliged to limit their numbers to four hundred. At Majorca they joined the emperor, who insisted on immediately setting out for Barbary in spite of the stormy season, for it was towards the end of September. Andrew Doria, the veteran commander of the fleet, ventured on a remonstrance. “My liege,” he said, “be persuaded to abandon this enterprise, for pardieu! if we go, we shall all perish.” “And are not twenty-two years of empire enough for me, and seventy-two years of life for you?” replied Charles. “By St. James! if we do perish, we may both die content.” Spite of the prognostics of shipwreck, the army disembarked safely before Algiers. It consisted of twenty thousand foot and six thousand horse, Germans, Italians, and Spaniards—each nation forming a separate body. The knights held a conspicuous place and fought dismounted: “their surcoats of crimson velvet (says the author of a narrative sent to the Pope), over which glittered their white crosses, making them an object of remark; while they bore themselves with a proud and martial air which struck terror among the barbarians who approached them.” A severe storm of hail, accompanied with piercing cold, produced such an effect on the imperial troops, that they were almost unable to resist a night attack directed against them by the Moorish garrison, and the first conflict was a severe one.