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

by William Hickling Prescott

A similar heroic spirit was shown in the competition of the knights, and even of the Maltese soldiers, to take the place of those who had fallen in the fortress. It was now not merely the post of danger, but, as might be truly said, the post of death. Yet these brave men eagerly contended for it, as for the palm of glory; and La Valette was obliged to refuse the application of twelve knights of the language of Italy, on the ground that the complement of the garrison was full.

The only spark of hope now left was that of receiving the succors from Sicily. But the viceroy, far from quickening his movements, seemed willing to play the part of the matador in one of his national bull-fights,—allowing the contending parties in the arena to exhaust themselves in the struggle, and reserving his own appearance till a single thrust from his sword should decide the combat.

Still, some chance of prolonging its existence remained to St. Elmo while the communication could be maintained with St. Angelo and the town, by means of which the sinking strength of the garrison was continually renewed with the fresh life-blood that was poured into its veins. The Turkish commander at length became aware that, if he would end the siege, this communication must be cut off. It would have been well for him had he come to this conclusion sooner.

By the advice of Dragut, the investment of the castle was to be completed by continuing the lines of intrenchment to the Great Port, where a battery mounted with heavy guns would command the point of debarkation. While conducting this work, the Moorish captain was wounded on the head, by the splinter from a rock struck by a cannon-shot, which laid him senseless in the trenches. Mustapha, commanding a cloak to be thrown over the fallen chief, had him removed to his tent. The wound proved mortal; and though Dragut survived to learn the fate of St. Elmo, he seems to have been in no condition to aid the siege by his counsels. The loss of this able captain was the severest blow that could have been inflicted on the besiegers.

HEROIC DEFENCE OF ST. ELMO.

While the intrenchments were in progress, the enemy kept up an unintermitting fire on the tottering ramparts of the fortress. This was accompanied by false alarms, and by night attacks, in which the flaming missiles, as they shot through the air, cast a momentary glare over the waters, that showed the dark outlines of St. Elmo towering in ruined majesty above the scene of desolation. The artillery-men of St. Angelo, in the obscurity of the night, were guided in their aim by the light of the enemy's fireworks.[1322] These[{427}] attacks were made by the Turks, not so much in the expectation of carrying the fort, though they were often attended with a considerable loss of life, as for the purpose of wearing out the strength of the garrison. And dreary indeed was the condition of the latter: fighting by day, toiling through the livelong night to repair the ravages in the works, they had no power to take either the rest or the nourishment necessary to recruit their exhausted strength. To all this was now to be added a feeling of deeper despondency, as they saw the iron band closing around them which was to sever them for ever from their friends.

On the eighteenth of the month, the work of investment was completed, and the extremity of the lines was garnished with a redoubt mounting two large guns, which, with the musketry from the trenches, would sweep the landing-place, and effectually cut off any further supplies from the other side of the harbor. Thus left to their own resources, the days of the garrison were numbered.

La Valette, who had anxiously witnessed these operations of the enemy, had done all he could to retard them, by firing incessantly on the laborers in the hope of driving them from the trenches. When the work was completed, his soul was filled with anguish; and his noble features, which usually wore a tinge of melancholy, were clouded with deeper sadness, as he felt he must now abandon his brave comrades to their fate.

On the twentieth of the month was the festival of Corpus Christi, which, in happier days, had been always celebrated with great pomp by the Hospitallers. They did not fail to observe it, even at this time. A procession was formed, with the grand-master at its head; and the knights walked clad in the dark robes of the order, embroidered with the white cross of Malta. They were accompanied by the whole population of the place, men, women, and children. They made the circuit of the town, taking the direction least exposed to the enemy's fire. On reaching the church, they prostrated themselves on the ground, and, with feelings rendered yet more solemn by their own situation, and above all by that of their brave comrades in St. Elmo, they implored the Lord of Hosts to take pity on their distress, and not to allow his enemies to triumph over the true soldiers of the Cross.[1323]

During the whole of the twenty-first, the fire of the besiegers was kept up with more than usual severity, until in some places the crumbling wall was shot away, down to the bare rock on which it stood.[1324] Their pioneers, who had collected loads of brushwood for the purpose, filled up the ditch with their fascines; which, as they were covered with wet earth, defied the efforts of the garrison to set them on fire. Throughout the following night a succession of false alarms kept the soldiers constantly under arms. All this prognosticated a general assault. It came the next day.