In case the galley was boarded by the enemy, an entrenchment called a bastion had been erected, which extended the entire length of the ship’s balcony, and reached to the height of the fourth bench of the prow.
This entrenchment was constructed of beams and crosspieces of timber, the spaces between being filled with old cordage and dilapidated sails. This construction, six feet high on the side of the stem, was only five feet high at the prow, toward which it sloped to the level of the rambades, and was designed to prevent the raking fire of the enemy’s artillery, sweeping the length of the galley.
The subordinate officers and soldiers were armed with steel helmets, buff-skin, and neck-pieces of iron. Matches ready for lighting lay near the cannon and swivel-guns; the masts had been hauled down and placed in the waist of the vessel, as galleys never fight with sails up, but are sustained by their oars.
The slaves who composed the crew looked on these preparations for battle with mute terror or sullen indifference. These poor creatures, chained to their benches, were accounted only a locomotive power. The discipline of force, to which they had been subjected on board the galley, had, through its severity, given them the calmness necessary for confronting danger.
Their position was one of peculiar trial. The gagged and passive spectators of a desperate battle,—since during a conflict the crews were generally gagged by means of a piece of wood inserted in the mouth,—they were not able to deaden their perception of danger, or satisfy that instinct of ferocity which self-preservation always awakens in men at the sight of carnage, that enthusiasm or courage which demands blow for blow, and kills in order not to be killed.
Nor had these slaves any hope of the ordinary results which follow a victory. If their vessel was the conqueror they continued to row on board of her; if she was conquered, they rowed on board of the conqueror.
Placed during the action between the balls of the enemy and the pistols of their keepers, who killed them on their first refusal to row, the men of the crew only escaped certain death by exposing themselves to a death less certain, inasmuch as there was a possibility of missing the enemy’s balls, while the keepers fired their pistols into the breasts of their helpless victims. Under such an alternative the galley-slaves resigned themselves to their fate and continued to row.
In all cases, they were indifferent to victory, and not unfrequently were interested in defeat, since the conquerors, Turks or Arabs, often delivered their own nationality. As to the renegades, all crews were alike to them. Hence, the convict-crew of the black galley knew only that they were about to do battle with the Red Galleon, and were utterly indifferent to the result of the engagement.
Preparations for the fight went on in the most profound silence. The calm, austere countenances of the soldiers of the cross showed that they found nothing unusual in these preliminary details. The chevaliers carefully inspected the different services with which they were charged; so seriously was every duty performed, that one might have thought the actors were preparing for some religious rite.
At the stern, the assembled chevaliers made a rigid examination of the position of the two galleys commanded by the pirates.