History of the Reign of Philip the Second, King of Spain, Vols. 1 and 2

by William Hickling Prescott

The northern coast of Africa, at this time, was occupied by various races, who, however they may have differed in other respects, all united in obedience to the Koran. Among them was a large infusion of Moors descended from the Arab tribes who had once occupied the south of Spain, and who, on its reconquest by the Christians, had fled that country rather than renounce the religion of their fathers. Many even of the Moors then living were among the victims of this religious persecution; and they looked with longing eyes on the beautiful land of their inheritance, and with feelings of unquenchable hatred on the Spaniards who had deprived them of it.

The African shore was studded with towns,—some of them, like Algiers, Tunis, Tripoli, having a large extent of territory adjacent,—which owned the sway of some Moslem chief, who ruled them in sovereign state, or, it might be, acknowledging, for the sake of protection, a qualified allegiance to the sultan. These rude chiefs, profiting by their maritime position, followed the dreadful trade of the corsair. Issuing from their strongholds, they fell on the unprotected merchantmen, or, descending on the opposite coasts of Andalusia and Valencia, sacked the villages, and swept off the wretched inhabitants into slavery.

The Castilian government did what it could for the protection of its subjects. Fortified posts were established along the shores. Watch-towers were raised on the heights, to give notice of the approach of an enemy. A fleet of galleys, kept constantly on duty, rode off the coasts to intercept the corsairs. The war was occasionally carried into the enemy's country. Expeditions were fitted out, to sweep the Barbary shores, or to batter down the strongholds of the pirates. Other states, whose territories bordered on the Mediterranean, joined in these expeditions; among them Tuscany, Rome, Naples, Sicily,—the two last the dependencies of Spain,—and above all Genoa, whose hardy seamen did good service in these maritime wars. To these should be added the Knights of St. John, whose little island of Malta, with its iron defences, boldly bidding defiance to the enemy, was thrown into the very jaws, as it were, of the African coast. Pledged by their vows to perpetual war with the infidel, these brave knights, thus stationed on the outposts of Christendom, were the first to sound the alarm of invasion, as they were the foremost to repel it.

AFRICAN CORSAIRS.

The Mediterranean, in that day, presented a very different spectacle from what it shows at present,—swarming, as it does, with the commerce of many a distant land, and its shores glittering with towns and villages, that echo to the sounds of peaceful and protected industry. Long tracts of deserted territory might then be seen on its borders, with the blackened ruins of many[{397}] a hamlet, proclaiming too plainly the recent presence of the corsair. The condition of the peasantry of the south of Spain, in that day, was not unlike that of our New England ancestors, whose rural labors might, at any time, be broken by the warwhoop of the savage, as he burst on the peaceful settlement, sweeping off its wretched inmates—those whom he did not massacre—to captivity in the wilderness. The trader, instead of pushing out to sea, crept timidly along the shore, under the protecting wings of its fortresses, fearful lest the fierce enemy might dart on him unawares, and bear him off to the dungeons of Africa. Or, if he ventured out into the open deep, it was under a convoy of well-armed galleys, or, armed to the teeth himself, prepared for war.

Scarcely a day passed without some conflict between Christian and Moslem on the Mediterranean waters. Not unfrequently, instead of a Moor, the command was intrusted to some Christian renegade, who, having renounced his country and his religion for the roving life of a corsair, felt, like most apostates, a keener hatred than even its natural enemies for the land he had abjured.[1271] In these encounters, there were often displayed, on both sides, such deeds of heroism as, had they been performed on a wider theatre of action, would have covered the actors with immortal glory. By this perpetual warfare a race of hardy and experienced seamen was formed, in the countries bordering on the Mediterranean; and more than one name rose to eminence for nautical science as well as valor, with which it would not be easy to find a parallel in other quarters of Christendom. Such were the Dorias of Genoa,—a family to whom the ocean seemed their native element; and whose brilliant achievements on its waters, through successive generations, shed an undying lustre on the arms of the republic.

The corsair's life was full of maritime adventure. Many a tale of tragic interest was told of his exploits, and many a sad recital of the sufferings of the Christian captive, tugging at the oar, or pining in the dungeons of Tripoli and Algiers. Such tales formed the burden of the popular minstrelsy of the period, as well as of more elegant literature,—the drama, and romantic fiction. But fact was stranger than fiction. It would have been difficult to exaggerate the number of the Christian captives, or the amount of their sufferings. On the conquest of Tunis by Charles the Fifth, in 1535, ten thousand of these unhappy persons, as we are assured, walked forth from its dungeons, and knelt, with tears of gratitude and joy, at the feet of their liberator. Charitable associations were formed in Spain, for the sole purpose of raising funds to ransom the Barbary prisoners. But the ransom demanded was frequently exorbitant, and the efforts of these benevolent fraternities made but a feeble impression on the whole number of captives.

Thus the war between the Cross and the Crescent was still carried on along the shores of the Mediterranean, when the day of the Crusades was past in most of the other quarters of Christendom. The existence of the Spaniard—as I have often had occasion to remark—was one long crusade; and in the sixteenth century he was still doing battle with the infidel, as stoutly as in the heroic days of the Cid. The furious contests with the petty pirates of Barbary engendered in his bosom feelings of even keener hostility than that which grew up in his contests with the Arabs, where there was no skulking, predatory foe, but army was openly arrayed against army, and they fought for the sovereignty of the Peninsula. The feeling of religious hatred[{398}] rekindled by the Moors of Africa extended in some degree to the Morisco population, who still occupied those territories on the southern borders of the monarchy which had belonged to their ancestors, the Spanish Arabs. This feeling was increased by the suspicion, not altogether without foundation, of a secret correspondence between the Moriscos and their brethren on the Barbary coast. These mingled sentiments of hatred and suspicion sharpened the sword of persecution, and led to most disastrous consequences, which before long will be unfolded to the reader.

Among the African corsairs was one by the name of Dragut, distinguished for his daring spirit, and the pestilent activity with which he pursued the commerce of the Spaniards. In early life he had been made prisoner by Andrew Doria; and the four years during which he was chained to the oar in the galleys of Genoa did not serve to mitigate the feelings of hatred which he had always borne to the Christians. On the recovery of his freedom, he resumed his desperate trade of a corsair with renewed activity. Having made himself master of Tripoli, he issued out, with his galleys, from that stronghold, fell on the defenceless merchantman, ravaged the coasts, engaged boldly in fight with the Christian squadrons, and made his name as terrible, throughout the Mediterranean, as that of Barbarossa had been in the time of Charles the Fifth.

The people of the southern provinces, smarting under their sufferings, had more than once besought Philip to send an expedition against Tripoli, and, if possible, break up this den of thieves, and rid the Mediterranean of the formidable corsair. But Philip, who was in the midst of his victorious campaigns against the French, had neither the leisure nor the resources, at that time, for such an enterprise. In the spring of 1559, however, he gave orders to the duke of Medina Celi, viceroy of Sicily, to fit out an armament for the purpose, to obtain the coöperation of the Italian states, and to take command of the expedition.