# A History of the Knights of Malta/Chapter 10

CHAPTER X.
1476—1480.
The city of Rhodes, at the time of the accession of Peter D’Aubusson, was a very different place from what it had been when first torn from the hands of the infidel in the beginning of the fourteenth century. At that period all the grandeur of former ages had been lost, and the half-ruined town presented every appearance of squalor and poverty. Now all this was changed. From the moment when Fulk do Villaret first established his convent there, the knights of St. John had lavished their treasures partly in the construction of works of defence as perfect as the engineering science of those days could devise, and partly in the architectural decoration of their town, replete as it was with natural beauties. The splendid buildings which still exist testify to its grandeur and magnificence in the days of the Order of St. John, and to the enormous expenditure which had been lavished on its defences.
It was situated on the sea-shore at the north-eastern extremity of the island, and embraced within its circuit the two harbours known as the inner and the outer port, the latter sometimes called the port of the galleys. The outer port was formed by a long strip of land running in a direction nearly due north, and jutting out into the sea so as to enclose between it and the shore line an anchorage, very commodious and ​sheltered from all but northerly winds. On the rock at the extremity of this neck of land stood the tower of St. Nicholas, the erection of which, by Zacosta, has already been mentioned. This tower, which was the first object that greeted the pilot on nearing the shores of Rhodes, was considered the most important point in the defences of the town, next to the Grand-Master’s palace, which was the citadel. Its position, surrounded almost entirely by the sea, rendered it difficult of attack at all times, and from sudden surprise or coup de main it was practically quite secure. The inner port was enclosed by two moles, running respectively in a northerly and easterly direction, so as to embrace within their shelter an expanse of water partaking somewhat of the geometric form of a sector. At the extremities of these moles stood the two towers of St. Michael and St. John (the one now called Arab’s tower, and the other Windmill tower). These two works, together with that of St. Nicholas, may be said to have constituted the principal strength of the place on its sea front.
It has been a matter of much dispute where the famous Colossus of Rhodes stood. Tradition has generally pointed to the two rocks on which stand the towers of St. Michael and St. John, affirming that the statue was reared with one foot on each of these points, and that vessels entering the harbour were enabled to pass in full sail between its legs. Newton’s opinion has already been quoted that the tower of St. Nicholas probably stands on the site of the old statue, and this opinion is shared by most persons best qualified to judge in the matter. If, as is very likely, the statue had been erected as a mark of guidance to vessels approaching the harbour, the rock of St. Nicholas would be the most natural and suitable site. The dimensions of the figure on that spot might well have raised it to the dignity of a wonder of the world without claiming for it a stride of fifty fathoms.
The houses of the lower part were built of stone, and had flat roofs after the custom of most Eastern cities. At frequent intervals the streets, which were very narrow, were crossed overhead by broad arches. This was probably done to facilitate communication between the various points, and also, perhaps, to afford shelter from the fire of the enemy during a siege. Two gates led into the lower town from the land side, called respectively the gates of St. George and St. John. Before the second siege the latter was built up. As is the ​case in so many cities, the Jews dwelt in a quarter set apart for them in the south-eastern corner, where they were covered by the ramparts of the langue of Italy.
From the time of Zacosta the defence of the line of works had been allotted amongst the different langues as follows:— From the foot of the mole of St. Nicholas to the Grand-Master’s palace was in charge of France; thence to the gate of St. George was held by Germany; Auvergne was posted between that gate and the Spanish tower; England between the Spanish tower and that of St. Mary, of which they only defended the lower story, the upper part being held by Aragon, as well as the line up to the gate of St. John; from that gate to the tower of Italy was held by Provence, the sea-face closing the circuit being in charge, one half of Italy and the other half of Castile. The palace itself was held by a force composed of members of all the langues, it being naturally considered the post of honour.
The amazing fertility and luxuriant vegetation of the island had converted the country outside the walls into one vast garden. Far as the eye could reach there appeared on every side fields, groves, and orchards, clothed in all the brilliancy of summer verdure, whilst from the summit of St. Stephen’s Hill, an eminence which overlooked the town a short distance off on the western side, the land stretched away in a gradual descent towards the foot of the ramparts. This slope was broken by hillocks and undulations, which in their pleasing variety gave life and animation to the landscape. Here and there on every side the ground was dotted with chapels, summer-houses, and other rustic buildings, very picturesque in appearance, but, unfortunately, highly detrimental to the defence of the place. D’Aubusson had, it is true, exerted his power with no sparing hand to sweep away the most dangerous of these buildings, and, to a certain extent, with success. Nothing but a stern sense of the urgency of the case, and a blind confidence in his unerring judgment, would have permitted the destruction of so much that was prized by the inhabitants. Still much remained intact to afford cover to an advancing enemy. To quote the quaint language of Merry Dupuis, a member of the Order, who, although not actually present at the siege, arrived in Rhodes almost immediately afterwards, and wrote a history of it from ​the statements of the principal actors, “around the city of Rhodes lay the most admirable country in the world for carrying on a siege; for all around the said town were numerous gardens filled with little churches and Greek chapels, with old walls and stones and rooks, behind which cover could always be found against the garrison, to such an extent that if all the artillery in the world had been inside the town, it could do no harm to those that were without, provided they did not approach too close.”
There has been much criticism on the defensive arrangements of D’Aubusson because he did not occupy the dominant hill of St. Stephen with an outwork. It must, however, be borne in mind that the use of artillery had been of too recent introduction, and was as yet in too crude a state, for the disadvantages of this point to have been as apparent then as they are now. Moreover, the policy of isolating a portion of the garrison and stationing them where they would, in all probability, have been cut off by the vastly superior forces of the besiegers, seems somewhat doubtful. At all events, it is clear that contemporary criticism did not take this line, since even after the experience of the first siege no attempt was made during the forty-two years which elapsed between that and the second to remedy the supposed defect. We may therefore rest assured, that had this hill presented the disadvantages which to the modem engineer seem so apparent, the keen eye and commanding genius of D’Aubusson would not have neglected its defence. As a matter of fact, the hill never was used by the Turks for battering purposes, but only as a camping ground.
Such were the town and island, which, after being kept for a space of nearly forty years in a state of perturbation and alarm, were destined to witness at length the storm of invasion break over them. Once again did D’Aubusson pen a circular to his grand-priors, urging upon them the immediate transmission of reinforcements and supplies. A copy of this document is still in existence among the papal archives, and there is something very thrilling and exciting in the plain manly language in which his demand is couched. Without any straining after effect, or the slightest attempt ​at oratorical display, he appealed with such earnest simplicity to the chivalry still existing in every knightly bosom, that it is not surprising to read that his call was responded to from every priory in Europe. Not only members of the Order, but numbers of others, knights anti simple soldiers, crowded to the scene of the coming struggle. Although they were to serve under a banner to which they owed no allegiance, other than in so far as it was the emblem of Christian warfare against the infidel, they came, hoping to win renown for themselves and to aid in the defeat of the common enemy. The gallant heart of D’Aubusson was gladdened at the constant arrival of these welcome additions to his strength, comprising, as they did, some of the noblest names in Europe. Foremost amongst them was his eldest brother, the viscount de Monteuil, who, at the head of a considerable body of retainers, volunteered his services at this crisis. He was, by the unanimous voice of the council, elected to the post of captain-general, which he promptly accepted, and in which he did knightly service under the supreme command of his younger brother.
Whilst the knights were thus preparing themselves at oil points to meet their enemy, Mahomet, disappointed at perceiving that his designs had been fathomed, determined, if possible, to blind the fraternity to the imminence of its danger. With this idea he directed his son, Djem or Zisim, in conjunction with his nephew, Tcbélébi, to submit to the Grand-Master proposals for a peace. In this project the sultan had two objects in view. On the one hand, he hoped to lure the knights into a false sense of security; and on the other he trusted, by the selection of a fitting agent, to combine the services of a spy with those of an envoy. Under his direction the princes chose for the purpose a renegade Greek, who, on the capture of his native island of Eubea, by the Turks, had embraced Islamism in the hope of bettering his fortunes. This man, whose name was Demetrius Sophiano, possessed all the cunning and aptitude for intrigue which have ever been the characteristics of his race. He had often proved himself a most valuable tool in the hands of his new employer. In matters of diplomacy, however, Mahomet had in ​D’Aubusson to deal with a man who was fully his equal in the art, and whose extensive system of espial had rendered him well acquainted with the real motives by which the Ottoman sultan was actuated. Perceiving that a short truce would give time for such reinforcements to arrive as were still lingering on the way, he yielded a ready assent to the proposals of Demetrius, merely taking objection to the question of tribute, as to which he averred that he was not authorized to treat without special reference to the Pope. In order, therefore, to allow time for this reference to be made, he suggested that a temporary truce should be established, during the continuance of which the commerce of both parties should be free from aggression. This proposal was accepted by Mahomet, who flattered himself that he had succeeded in throwing the enemy quite off his guard. He was only undeceived when he discovered that D’Aubusson was taking advantage of the temporary lull to render yet more complete his preparations for defence.
Demetrius was not the only tool that Mahomet found ready to his hand at this crisis. In fact, a man who, like the Ottoman sultan, ruled over an empire to which, through the lust of conquest, fresh additions were constantly being made, must have found frequent occasion for the services of traitors; and as ample remuneration and rapid advancement awaited the successful informer, there were never wanting about his court men who had that to sell which it was his interest to buy. His intention of attacking the island of Rhodes upon the first favourable opportunity had become so widely known, that accurate information as to the defences of the town was understood to be a highly marketable commodity. All persons, therefore, who were in possession of such, hurried, naturally, to Constantinople, in the hope of realizing a good price for the article. Demetrius, during his visits to Rhodes, had made himself as well acquainted with the general outline of the works as his position admitted, and doubtless received ample reward for his vigilance. There were also two other men who at this time came forward to contest with him the palm of rascality, and to share its disgraceful fruits. One of these was Antonio Meligala, a Rhodian, who, having dissipated his patri​mony in debauchery, sought to restore his ruined fortunes by abandoning Christianity and taking service with the Turk. Some writers assert that he had formerly been a knight of St. John and was stripped of his habit for gross misconduct, but there is no authentic record of the fact. It is very clear that he had resided for a time at Rhodes, and that he carried away with him to Constantinople an accurate plan of the fortress. Whatever reward he may have received for this act of treachery he did not live long to enjoy, as he died of a loathsome disease on board a galley whilst accompanying the Turkish army to the scene of attack.
Another and far more gifted traitor presented himself in the person of Georges Frapant, commonly called Maître Georges. This man was by birth a German, and had been trained as an engineer, in which science he attained great skill. He has been described, by friends and enemies ailke, as being endowed with marvellous genius. In fact, the historians of the Order, even whilst heaping the most unmeasured, though well- deserved, abuse upon his unfortunate head, cannot refrain from drawing attention to his brilliant talents. Caoursin calls him a man of the most subtle ingenuity, whilst the honest soldier, Merry Dupuis, after recording of him that he was a most excellent director of artillery, proceeds to dilate on his personal advantages as “a fine fellow, well-formed in all his limbs, and of a lofty stature, with great gifts of language, being both willing and entertaining.” These opinions are endorsed by Bosio, Naberat, and Vertot, subsequent historians whose views were probably formed from what had been written by the above quoted authors. It is very evident that Maître Georges was no ordinary man, and the admirer of genius must regret the misapplied powers anti perverted energies of this gifted renegade.
The plans and projects which this trio of traitors submitted to Mahomet were accompanied by such tempting descriptions of ​the unprepared state of the island, the decay of the fortifications, which they asserted were old and crumbling, and the paucity of its garrison, that he at length decided to carry out his long-cherished design. The chief command of the forces destined for the operation was intrusted to a fourth renegade, a Greek of the imperial house of Paleologus, named Messih, who held the rank of Capoudan Pasha. This man had been present at the capture of Constantinople. To save his life he had forsworn his religion and taken service under Mahomet. With his new master he rapidly gained honour and advancement. Like all renegades, he showed the utmost zeal in persecuting those of his former faith, and the knights of Rhodes had in particular been distinguished by his bitterest animosity. The sultan therefore deemed that he would be a very fit agent to accomplish their destruction. This appointment was by no means distasteful to the Capoudan Pasha, as, owing to the seductive and glowing accounts which his fellow-renegades had given of the facilities of the enterprise, he was most anxious to secure the opportunity for distinction, and for raising himself yet higher in his new profesion.
Whilst preparations were thus going on at Constantinople, the knights were, on their side, taking every measure to insure the success of their defence. At this critical juncture they were gladdened by a proposal from the sultan of Egypt to enter into an affiance with them. That prince beheld with a jealous eye the impending attack by his powerful eastern neighbour on the fortress of Rhodes. It did not accord with his policy that the island should fall into the hands of one already too mighty for the safety of his own empire. A treaty was speedily concluded, whereby the knights were not only secured from any aggression on the side of Egypt during their struggle with the Turks, but were able to draw large supplies of provisions from their new friends. One measure was still considered necessary to render their security more complete, and that was to remove temporarily from the powers of D’Aubusson those checks and restrictions with which the jealousy of preceding ages had fettered the Grand-Mastership. Now that they were led by one in whom they had such unbounded confidence, and when the crisis required that he should be able to act with a promptitude and. ​energy unattainable under such a regime, they unanimously agreed to free him from its yoke, and to grant him the unlimited authority of a dictator until the troublous hour had passed away. Once before, it will be remembered, the same step had been taken, and then with the happiest results. It was, therefore, with the more readiness that they again resorted to the measure, having already experienced its successful operation. D’Aubusson was at first unwilling to accept the undivided responsibility thus imposed upon him, but his reluctance was speedily overcome, and when the council broke up it was announced to the citizens that from that moment he was their sole and autocratic chief. Never was authority vested in hands more capable of exercising it wisely, and the confidence which D’Aubusson felt in himself he was able at that critical juncture to impart to his friends.
The plans by which Mahomet proposed to carry out his invasion were these. As a preliminary step a fleet was to be equipped under the command of Paleologus, which should make a descent on the island and commit such ravages as would harass and terrify the inhabitants, and in some degree exhaust the strength of the defence before the main struggle commenced. Early in the ensuing spring the bulk of the army was to march across Asia Minor to the port of Phineka, a commodious harbour about forty miles to the eastward of Rhodes. The artillery and heavy stores were to proceed to the same spot from Constantinople by sea. The pasha, after having harried the Christians to the best of his ability, was directed to be at the place of rendezvous at the appointed time, when, picking up the force there assembled, he was to make his grand descent upon the point of attack.
In accordance with these instructions, Paleologus sailed with a considerable squadron in the winter of 1479, and at once made a bold dash at the island of Rhodes itself. D’Aubusson had taken every precaution to prevent any disastrous effects from descents of this kind. He had caused a number of fortified posts to be constructed in addition to those already existing, and behind these the inhabitants of the open country were in cases of alarm to seek shelter. The pasha therefore gained but little by his move. His troops effected their landing a ​unopposed, but found the country deserted, everything carried away, and the inhabitants whom he would have seized as slaves secure from his grasp. Whilst his troops were scattered in disorganized bands engaged in a fruitless search for plunder, a sudden descent was made on them by a body of knights. They were taken completely by surprise, numbers were killed, and the remainder driven back in confusion to their ships.
The pasha, disgusted at this humiliating repulse, sheered off from Rhodes and steered for the island of Telos, where was a fort garrisoned by a body of Hospitallers. This, after a few days’ battering, he attempted to carry by storm, but once more met with a bloody repulse. The fort was evidently not to be taken by a coup de main, and the Capoudan Pasha, crestfallen and defeated, was fain to retire to Phineka, there to await the arrival of his army. A bad beginning this to so great an enterprise, and an evil omen for its ultimate success.
One morning, towards the latter end of April, in the year 1480, the sentinel posted on the top of St. Stephen’s hill, descried the hostile fleet passing within view of the island. The alarm was at once given, and the Grand-Master, with his principal officers, assembled on the spot to watch its onward progress. The eventful hour was not yet come, and the fleet, which was bearing the artillery and other stores from Constantinople, made for Phineka, the pre-arranged port of rendezvous: Having there been joined by the remainder of the force, the army was embarked, and the expedition, which numbered 70,000 men (some accounts say 100,000) with 160 large vessels, exclusive of small craft, arrived within sight of Rhodes on the 23rd of May, 1480. The warnings which had been given on so many previous occasions had enabled the knights to make every preparation for this critical moment. The inhabitants had all taken refuge within the town, whither their property had also been conveyed. Nothing capable of removal was left to become the spoil of the invaders; even the unripe corn was cut and carried away. An attempt was made to impede the landing, without producing much effect, the magnitude of his force and the numerical strength of his fleet enabling the pasha to effect a disembark​ation without difficulty in the bay of Trianda, on the northwest side of the island.
He encamped his forces on the slope of St. Stephen’s hill, and pitched his own tent on the summit, and on the following day despatched a herald to summon the town to surrender. He knew well that the demand would be rejected with scorn by the knights, but he had worded his message craftily, with the hope of seducing the Greek inhabitants, to whom he promised a general amnesty and an increase of privileges under the Turks. His cunning design was frustrated by the staunch courage of the Rhodians, who preferred staking their all on the fortunes of the Order, to accepting the tempting but dangerous offers of Paleologus. When it is remembered that the population of Rhodes mostly professed the Greek faith, it is somewhat surprising that they should have remained so loyal to the sway of a Roman Catholic body. Either the differences and jealousies between the rival creeds must in those days have been less embittered than of late, or the fraternity must have learnt a lesson in religious toleration very unusual to the professors of their faith. There are facts which show that both these causes must have operated to produce such laudable results. As a proof that the differences between the two religions were then by no means so marked as at present, may be mentioned the fact that a miraculous picture of the Virgin, held in the highest esteem by the knights, was during the siege lodged in a Greek chapel, where i received the joint adoration of both sects. This painting had been brought from Acre by the knights on their expulsion from that city. After their arrival in Rhodes it had been deposited in a chapel, built for the purpose on an eminence about a mile to the west of the town. This hill was called Mount Philermo, and the image bore the name of Our Lady of Philermo. When the approach of the Turks rendered this chapel no longer a place of security, the picture was brought within the fortress, nor was any objection made to its being lodged in a Greek chapel. No surer ​token could have been given of the unanimity and good fellowship which at that time existed between the professors of the two creeds.
As soon as the Turks had established themselves in their camp, they began to push forward reconnoissances in front of the walls. It suited neither the policy of D’Aubusson nor the temper of his troops to permit these approaches to be continued unchecked. A sortie was consequently made with a chosen body of cavalry, led by the viscount de Monteuil in person, in which, after a slight combat—little more indeed than a skirmish—the Turks were driven back to their camp. In this affair Demetrius Sophiano, another of the three traitors who had hoped to reap such a golden harvest from the results of their villainy, met his death. His horse having been killed, he was unable to disengage himself from the fallen animal, and the advancing squadrons of the enemy, charging over his prostrate body, trampled him to death in the mélée. The knights in this struggle lost one of their own number, a member of the langue of Auvergne, named Murat, who, having pushed too far in front in the ardour of the moment, was surrounded by spahis. He was speedily put to death, anti his head borne away in triumph on a spear.
Meanwhile the pasha had been in close consultation with Maître Georges as to the point he should select for the attack. That worthy, whose keen eye instantly grasped the importance of the post of St. Nicholas, suggested that the whole weight of the besieging force should be thrown against that fort. To this Paleologus, who had every confidence in the opinion of the German, readily assented. A battery was at once commenced within the gardens of the church of St. Anthony, a convenient spot whence the powerful battering train which had been brought from Constantinople might vomit its ponderous missiles against the rampart of St. Nicholas, from a distance of about 300 yards. The knights, on their side, anxious to impede the construction of so dangerous a work, opened fire on the rising battery from some guns which they placed on a platform on the north side of the Grand-Master’s palace, from which spot they were able to enfilade it. In spite of all obstructions, and in the face of a large loss in men, the work continued to advance, ​gabions, timber, and other appliances being brought into use to expedite its completion. At length, all being ready, three of the pasha’s great basilisks were seen to peep portentously through the embrasures. These basilisks, of which sixteen had been brought from the arsenal of Constantinople, had been cast under the direction of that most useful of men Maître Georges. They were of such stupendous dimensions, that their very appearance might well spread dismay amongst the ranks of the garrison. They were eighteen feet in length, and were designed to carry projectiles of from eight to nine palms in diameter. In those early days of artillery the calibre of the guns was very large and the projectiles generally of stone. Only a little powder was used, the range was therefore extremely limited. Artillerists trusted more to the weight of the missile than to the impetus with which it was projected for the desired effect to be produced. It must certainly have been by no means a reassuring incident to the defenders of Fort St. Nicholas to be battered incessantly with such gigantic artillery. The result speedily manifested itself. Although the walls had been well built and were very solid, they were not capable of withstanding for any time the huge projectiles which Maître Georges had caused to be hurled against them, and ere long, a gaping breach on the west face marked the successful practice of the gunners.
Whilst this battering was proceeding, another incident had taken place which materially affected the fortunes of the wily German. In pursuance of a plan laid down between himself and Paleologus, the dauntless scoundrel—for with all his crimes it is impossible to deny him the virtue of the most daring courage—presented himself before the walls one morning and besought admission into the town as a deserter from the Turkish camp. Taken before D’Aubusson, Maître Georges had a plausible tale ready to account for his appearance. Entirely ignoring for the moment the awkward fact of his apostasy to ​Islamism, he averred with the most captivating ingenuousness, that although he had been for many years in the service of the sultan, his conscience would not permit him to assist further in the designs of that monarch against the fraternity. Finding himself unable in any other manner to escape from the distasteful and painful service, he had resolved to take the hazardous step of deserting into the fortress. D’Aubusson had had too many dealings with rascals as wily and. plausible as Maître Georges to give a ready credence to this tale of remorse. He knew too well that the day was past when men made such sacrifices for their religion. He also knew what a fearful risk Maître Georges would be running if he were really a deserter in the event of the capture of the town, and of his falling once more into the hands of his former employers. This was a risk which he gravely doubted Maître Georges’ newly-awakened zeal for the Christian faith would prompt him to run. The probabilities seemed to him, therefore, that the pretended deserter was acting in collusion with the foe without. Treachery, however, if treachery there were, was, under the circumstances, to be best encountered by dissimulation. The Grand- Master determined that he would glean what information he could from the German, without trusting him in any way that might be made available for the use of the pasha. Maître Georges was welcomed as cordially as though no suspicions had been aroused; but he soon discovered that there were those in his train whose sole duty appeared to be to watch his every movement and to mark his every word. One or two abortive attempts to search out the weak points in the defence soon taught him that any further effort in that, direction would inevitably lead to destruction. In fact, D’Aubusson completely foiled his designs, and if he did not prove of much use to the defenders, he was at all events prevented in any way assisting the besiegers.
On cross-examination as to the force under the command of the pasha, he dilated with the most alarming unction on its magnitude and. perfect equipment. Their artillery, he said, was of gigantic calibre, such as had never before been brought into the field, and on this point he certainly was able to speak with some authority, having founded the cannon himself. The army ​was numerous, well disciplined, and amply supplied with stores and provisions of every kind, and was, moreover, animated with the most fanatical zeal to overthrow this great bulwark of Christianity. Cheering intelligence that, to be brought by a deserter into a besieged town. The question naturally arose, how came so long-headed a man voluntarily to place himself in a position of such imminent danger? To this, Maître Georges, with sanctimonious earnestness, pleaded the pangs of an awakened conscience with such apparent conviction that many were led to believe him sincere.
Meanwhile the battery in St. Anthony’s garden had been doing its duty. The confused mass of rubbish daily increasing at the foot of St. Nicholas’ tower, and the gaping breach in its walls, rapidly enlarging in dimensions, showed D’Aubusson that unless speedy precautions were taken, the post would be lost. He therefore concentrated on the spot as large a reinforcement as could be contained within the enceinte of the work. At the same time he prepared every obstacle his ingenuity could devise to impede the operation of an assault. Taking advantage of the mass of ruined masonry which had been dislodged by the pasha’s basilisks, he with it east up a new defence across the mole. Small batteries were established wherever they could sweep the approaches to the breach, and in the shallow water of the harbour itself he sank numerous planks, studded with sharp-pointed nails, to impede the enemy were they to attempt wading across. Having thus done everything which his foresight oould suggest, he calmly awaited the onset.
On the morning of the 9th June, as soon as day broke, the alarm was given, and a large fleet of the enemy’s lighter craft, laden with soldiers, was seen bearing down in a compact mass on the devoted fort. They were landed—some on the mole, some on the rocks, and the rest plunged overboard into the shallow water. With loud shouts they rushed at the breach, and endeavoured to carry the work by a coup de main. Conspicuous on the summit stood D’Aubusson, arrayed in all the panoply of his rank, and around him was gathered the flower of that chivalry from which the Turk had so often before been compelled to recoil. Anxiously was the struggle watched by both friend and foe on the mainland. The battlements overlooking the harbour were ​crowded with citizens, eager to mark the progress of the fray; whilst on the brow of St. Stephen’s hill stood Paleologus himself, filled with the keen excitement natural in one to whom success would be everything, and failure perdition. Amid the clouds of smoke and dust but little was to be seen. Ever and anon, as a passing gust of wind raised the dark veil for a moment, might be distinguished that noble band, thinned in numbers and faint with toil, but still standing unsubdued, and in proud defiance, on their shattered bulwarks, whilst the ruins were covered with the corpses of those who had fallen in the struggle. That same glimpse would also show the Moslem, undaunted by the opposition he was encountering, still swarming up the blood-stained pathway, striving by the sheer weight of numbers to surmount the obstacle which had already proved fatal to so many of his comrades.
Throughout this eventful day, D’Aubusson retained his post with the defenders of the fort. Utterly regardless of his own life he was to be found wherever the fray was thickest, or support most needed. His exposure of himself was, indeed, so reckless as to call forth the earnest remonstrances of his friends. On one occasion, having been struck on the head by a large fragment of stone which destroyed his helmet, he coolly selected another from the head of a fallen soldier; and when remonstrated with by the commander, Fabricius Caretto (who was the governor of the fort), he replied, with a smile, “If I am killed there will be more cause of hope for you than of fear for me.” It is supposed that he desired in this speech to indicate his opinion that that knight would be his fittest successor in case of his own death. At last, whilst the fate of the day seemed still to hang uncertain in the balance, the garrison brought some fireships to bear upon the galleys of the enemy. The attempt was successful; several caught fire, and the remainder, to avoid a similar fate, were compelled promptly to retire. At the same moment the defenders of St. Nicholas made a vigorous and united dash at the breach; the ladders were overturned, and such of the enemy as had made good their footing on the summit were once more hurled headlong to its foot. The flanking batteries were all this time pouring a destructive fire on the confused and disordered mass which stood huddled at its base. Many of the leaders had fallen, their ​fleet had abandoned them, and they themselves were being mowed down by the deadly fire from the ramparts. Is it surprising that under such an accumulation of obstacles they should at length give way? The mass of slain with which the breach was covered bore ample testimony to the obstinacy and determination of the assault, but the resistance of the defenders had proved too powerful for them, and at length they sought safety in flight. The terror of the fireships had been so great that but few of their boats were left to carry off the discomfited survivors. Many were drowned in the attempt to cross over to the mainland, and the remainder were borne away crestfallen and humiliated from the scene of action.
The feelings of the pasha, as from the summit of St. Stephen’s hill he witnessed the untoward conclusion of the fray, were far from enviable. his troops had been taught to consider themselves invincible, and the foe had not hitherto been found who could withstand the shock of their onset. They trusted that as it had been with the turbaned warrior of the East, so would it also prove with their Christian antagonists; but they now learnt their error at a grievous cost to themselves. That crumbling breach which, if guarded by a Moslem garrison, would have offered but a slender resistance, had, when crowned by the warriors of the Cross, rendered futile their boldest efforts, and hurled them back discomfited to their camp. Seven hundred corpses lay stretched upon the mole and breach. The pasha obtained a short truce to enable him to remove and bury them. A long trench was dug near the garden of St. Anthony, along the western shore of the port, in which they were all deposited. This trench, according to Biliotti, has recently been discovered, and the bones still found there removed into the adjoining cemetery of Mourad-Reis.
Paleologus was not the man to despair at a first failure; he was therefore speedily at work devising a new attack in another quarter. Conceiving that the knights were probably exhausting their utmost resources in the defence of St. Nicholas, he determined to break ground on a fresh point, where he might find a less obstinate resistance. Whilst D’Aubusson was returning thanks for the glorious success ​of the preceding day, by a triumphal procession to the miraculous picture of Our Lady of Philermo, the pasha was moving his heavy battering train to the southern side of the city. The Jews’ quarter was selected as the new object of attack. The ramparts at this point were of extreme thickness, but were also of great age, and therefore but ill suited to resist any very severe battering. Wishing to distract the garrison, he did not confine his efforts to a single place, but at the same time opened fire on the tower of St. Mary on the one side, and on that of Italy on the other. He also commenced a general bombardment. From the huge mortars which formed part of his siege train, he hurled into the town gigantic fragments of rock and other destructive missiles, trusting thereby so to annoy the inhabitants that they would be unable to protract the defence with energy. Light balls and other combustible ingredients were also made use of, in the hope of causing a conflagration. Against all these dangers 1)’Aubusson’s ready genius was able to find a remedy. He created a temporary shelter for such of the inhabitants as were not required for the defence by the erection of large sheds with sloping sides, built against the interior of the ramparts, on such sites as were best protected from the fire of the besiegers. Others found shelter in the vaults of the churches and similar places of security, so that the pasha gained but little by his vast expenditure of ammunition. True it is, as Merry Dupuis records, that one shot struck the roof of the Grand-Master’s palace, and descending through the floor into the cellar, destroyed a hogahead of wine. The waste of the good liquor seems to have impressed the simple-minded Dupuis more than the damage to the building; but if the casualties were confined to such losses as these, the pasha might as well have economized his powder. The danger of fire hi a city built almost entirely of stone was not great, but even that was guarded against. A band was organized whose sole duty it was to watch the flaming projectiles in their descent, and quench them immediately. The roar of this bombardment was so loud that it could be heard in the island of Lango on the one side, and in that of Chateau Roux on the other.
The state of the rampart in front of the Jews’ quarter soon ​became such as to render prompt measures necessary for the security of that point. D’Aubusson therefore commenced the construction of a retrenchment. For this purpose he levelled the houses in rear of the breach, sank a deep ditch in a semicircular direction, and behind this new obstacle built a brick wall supported by an earthen rampart and of sufficient thickness and solidity to resist the battering power of the enemy. The work was pushed forward with almost incredible rapidity. The Grand-Master himself set the example, not only by giving directions on the spot, but even by taking his turn at the manual labour. Whilst thus employed he handled the pick and shovel with the same vigour which he imparted to every duty that he undertook. The effect of this good example was soon seen. Not only did the knights and upper classes amongst the Rhodians assist vigorously in the work, but also the women and children; nay, even the secluded inmates of the religious houses joined in the universal enthusiasm, and performed the tasks of ordinary workmen. The result shewed itself in the rapid elevation of a new barrier, which the pasha on completing the demolition of the Jews’ rampart, found encircling its rear, rendering futile all the efforts he had made and the vast quantities of ammunition he had expended.
Up to this time Paleologus had pushed his advances towards the capture of the place in an open and legitimate manner. Now, however, finding himself foiled by the determined bravery of the besieged, he fell back on a weapon common enough in the warfare of the East, but repugnant to every feeling of true chivalry. Considering justly enough that the resistance he was encountering was greatly due to the personal energy of D’Aubusson, he bethought himself of putting an end to that incentive by the dagger of the assassin. He trusted by this means to remove the principal obstacle to his success, and to carry out this nefarious project he employed two deserters, the one a Dalmatian, and the other an Albanian, who had joined his an-ny since the commencement of the siege. Whilst he was developing his infamous scheme with these wretches a despatch arrived from Constantinople, brought by All pasha, in which he was informed that the sultan himself was about to proceed to the scene of war, with a reinforcement of 100,000 men and a ​new park of artillery. It is more than probable that this intelligence was completely false, still it attained its object in raising the enthusiasm of the besiegers. The two deserters. in furtherance of their project, presented themselves at one of the gates of the city, with a plausible tale of having been captured during a sortie, and of having just succeeded in making their escape. This story met with ready credence, and they were welcomed back into the town with the warmest congratulations. Their first step was to spread the intelligence of the expected arrival of the sultan with overwhelming reinforcements, a piece of news which, according to their intention, created the utmost dismay amongst the defenders.
Certain knights of the Italian and Spanish langues carried their terror so far as to form a plot for the purpose of compelling the Grand-Master to surrender before the arrival of Mahoniet. With this view they secured the co-operation of one of his secretaries, an Italian, named Pilelfo, who undertook to be their mouthpiece. D’Aubusson, upon hearing from his secretary what was passing, summoned the malcontents into his presence. With cutting sarcasm he informed them that since they were in such terror of the Moslem sultan they had his permission to leave the town, and that he himself would secure their safe departure. “But,” added he, “if you remain with us speak no more of surrender, and rest assured that if you continue your cabals you shall meet with the fate you so justly merit.” This combination of raillery and sternness had the desired effect, the recusants threw themselves at his feet and implored him to give them an early opportunity of effacing the memory of their cowardice in the blood of the infidel. Filelfo soon discovered that his master’s confidence had been withdrawn from him owing to his participation in the affair, and he was much distressed in consequence. The Albanian deserter, who had some acquaintance with him, imagined that he was probably now in a mood when he might be rendered subservient to their scheme. Gradually and cautiously he endeavoured to excite and stimulate the Italian’s resentment at the neglect he was suffering. Finding, as he thought, that he was succeeding in his object he at length unfolded the entire plot, making the most brilliant offers to Filelfo, in guarantee for which he showed ​him letters from the pasha. The secretary, who was warmly attached to D’Aubusson, and who felt that his present disgrace had been richly deserved, pretended to fall in with the views of the deserters. This was merely to enable him to discover everything, having succeeded in which he at once revealed the whole conspiracy to his master. The immediate arrest of the would-be assassins followed the disclosure, and after trial they were both sentenced to death. The excitement of the popu] ace upon learning this intended treachery was such that they rushed upon the criminals and, forestalling the just sentence of the law, tore them in pieces in the fury of the moment.
Foiled in his cowardly attempt at a cold-blooded assassination, Paleologus had once more recourse to open warfare. Disheartened at the ill-success of his efforts against the Jews’ quarter he returned to his original point of attack, the tower of St. Nicholas. To facilitate the approach of his assaulting columns he constructed a large floating bridge, which was to stretch from the point in front of the church of St. Anthony to the rocks at the base of the fort, and wide enough to admit of six men advancing abreast. Under cover of the darkness a Turk succeeded in fixing an anchor at the extremity of the mole beneath the surface, to the ring of which he secured a rope, intending by its means to warp the bridge across the water. This operation, however, had not been carried out as secretly as the Turk imagined. An English sailor, called Roger Gervase (or more probably Jervis), saw what was being done. Watching for the departure of the Turk, he as soon as the coast was clear detached the rope, removed the anchor, and carried it in triumph to the Grand-Master. D’Aubusson was so pleased with the promptitude and decision of the gallant tar as he stood dripping but radiant before him, with his ponderous trophy still in his grasp, that he rewarded him with a present of 200 gold crowns.
​The 19th of June was selected for the attempt, and at about midnight the various detachments were set in motion. It had been ordered that whilst the bridge was being hauled into its position a large body of troops, shipped for the purpose on board some of their smaller craft, should approach the mole, and make a sudden dash at the battered tower. They thought that perhaps in the darkness of the night they might take the garrison unawares. The incident of the anchor, however, forewarned D’Aubusson that the moment of assault was close at hand. Every step that prudence could suggest, or engineering skill could devise, had been taken to meet the impending shock. Through the darkness of the night there were keen eyes peering in silent watchfulness on the crest of the breach, whose vigilance it was vain for the Turk to attempt eluding. The first strain upon the rope with which the pasha had hoped to warp his bridge across shewed that his device had been discovered, and the besiegers were consequently brought to a standstill at their very earliest step. Unwilling to waste all the preparations he had made, Paleologus decided, in spite of this failure, to proceed with his attack. He therefore ordered the head of the bridge to be towed to its destination, and whilst this operation was being carried out with laborious slowness he gave the signal for the advance of the troops embarked in the boats. Their approach was at once discovered by the garrison, the alarm was quickly given, and a desperate fire was opened on them from all sides. Secrecy being at an end, the boats dashed forward, and on reaching the rocks the troops they carried rushed at the breach.
The struggle was carried on by both parties with equal obstinacy and determination, but in the darkness of the night little could be distinguished of the desperate combat which was raging round the devoted tower. The scene was lit up by the constant flashes of the artillery, which poured its destructive fire upon the crowded masses of the besieger’s battalions, whilst the lurid glare shed around by the Greek fire which was poured on the assailants, added yet another terror to the picture. Amid the roar of the guns, the clashing of arms, the shouts of the combatants, and the cries of the wounded, the strife continued with unabated violence, presenting a spectacle to those who were looking on, at once awful in its grandeur and terrible in its ​excitement. As though to add to the horrors of the scene, the fireships of the besieged were once more let loose on the enemy’s fleet, towards which they drifted in a column of flame, bearing panic and confusion in their course. The early light of a summer’s dawn broke upon this scene of strife before success had declared itself for either side. Guided, however, by the gradually increasing light, D’Aubusson’s gunners were able to direct their fire with greater precision, and speedily destroyed the bridge, which had been most useful in enabling the Turkish supports to be brought up. They also succeeded in sinking four of the galleys which, in spite of the fireships, continued to hover around the point of assault, whilst others bore testimony to their contact with their flaming antagonists by the sheets of fire in which they were enveloped.
Throughout the night the principal leader of the Turkish forces had been a young prince named Ibrahim, closely related to the sultan, with whom he was a great favourite. The daring and hardihood displayed by this youthful warrior had done much to keep up the vigour of the assailants, and although he had received several wounds he still maintained his post in the front of the attack. At this critical juncture, when his followers were beginning to quail beneath the deadly fire poured upon them, he was killed by a shot. This loss decided the fortunes of the day; the breach was abandoned, and the sea was once more covered with drowning men, the routed relics of the pasha’s force who found a watery grave the only alternative to the avenging swords of the knights.
The loss of the Turks upon this occasion was between 2,000 and 3,000, amongst whom were some of the best officers in their army. The impression made upon the survivors by this second failure was so dispiriting as to render the pasha’s hopes of ultimate success highly problematical. He was himself so dismayed by the untoward events of the night that he confined himself to his tent for three days, refusing to see any one. D’Aubusson availed himself of this respite to clear the mole of the mass of slain with which it was crowded. Rare pillage was there for his troops amidst that heap of Moslems, whose costly apparel, jewels, and ornaments of gold and silver, were a lordly recompense to the hardy warriors who had stood their ground so well. ​After three days’ seclusion Paleologus recovered his equanimity, and roused to a pitch of fury at the losses his army had sustained, he decided upon a still more vigorous prosecution of the siege. Returning once again to the southern side of the city, and abandoning in disgust all further attempts upon the tower of St. Nicholas, he commenced the construction of a battery on the edge of the counterscarp opposite the retrenchment in the Jews’ quarter. Here was an opportunity for the disgraced knights of Italy and Spain to recover their fair fame. By means of a postern they entered the ditch in the dead of night, and thence silently ascended the counterscarp with ladders and rushed impetuously into the as yet unfinished battery. The Turks, taken completely by surprise, offered little or no resistance; the struggle, which was rather a massacre than a fight, lasted only for a few minutes, and the victorious assailants remained masters of the battery. The gabions and other woodwork were set on fire, the battery completely destroyed, and the gallant little band returned triumphantly into the town, bearing upon their lances’ points the heads of their slain antagonists. This brilliant episode deservedly restored the actors in it to the good graces of D’Aubusson, who felt that from men capable of such dashing exploits he need have no further fear on the score of pusillanimity.
The pasha was taught by this incident that in conducting an attack against such vigorous and experienced foes as the defenders of Rhodes, he could not with impunity neglect any of the orthodox precautions of advance, tedious though they might be. Opening his approaches, therefore, on a more methodical and scientific system, he gradually regained the point from which he had been so rudely ejected. He drove galleries underground through the counterscarp, and from these he poured debris into the ditch, so as gradually to fill up the greater part of it, and, form a road across to the rampart.
The resources of D’Aubusson were taxed to the uttermost to devise means for resisting this new and most threatening method of approach. In the dilemma he bethought him of Maître Georges. Mysterious billets had more than once been shot into the town on arrows, warning the knights to beware of the German. Opinions were divided as to the object of these missives, some regarding them as dictated by irritation at the ​deserter’s having abandoned the cause of the invader, and as being intended in consequence to sow discord between him and the inhabitants. Others, among whom was D’Aubusson, looked upon them as a deep-laid piece of cunning on the part of the pasha, that this apparent display of animosity might cause him to be looked on with greater favour. Whatever was his private opinion, D’Aubusson determined on the present occasion to avail himself, if possible, of the engineering skill of Maitre Georges. He was unsuccessful in eliciting anything. The German was very reticent and desponding, his suggestions were few, and those manifestly useless, he recommended, indeed, the construction of a battery on a site selected by himself, but this proved such an egregious failure that general irritation was aroused against him. his obvious reluctance to aid the defence strengthened the suspicions which were afloat, and rendered a fresh scrutiny into his conduct advisable. Summoned before the council, he prevaricated, hesitated, and eventually contradicted himself in so many important particulars that ho was subjected to torture. Under this pressure a confession was extorted from him that he had entered the town with the traitorous intent of rendering assistance to the pasha. Although a certain cloud of mystery does undoubtedly hang over the conduct of Maître Georges—a confession extracted by the application of torture not being a very convincing proof—still, there was that in his general history and previous conduct which renders it more than probable that he really was the guilty wretch he confessed himself to be. On the following day he was hung in the public square, in sight of an applauding multitude, and so, by an act of righteous retribution, he died in the very city the destruction of which he had plotted. Thus perished the last of the trio of renegades by whom Mahomet had been invited to carry out his sinister designs against the Order of St. John. The pasha had throughout trusted much to the crafty partisan he had introduced into the town. Great was his disappointment, therefore, when he learnt the fate of his friend, of which fact D’Aubusson took care that he should speedily be made acquainted..
The hanging of the traitor could be no protection against ​the cannon which was thundering at the ramparts, or the assault which was threatening at the breach. To harass the enemy behind their trenches D’Aubusson constructed a large wooden catapult, which threw huge pieces of rock into the covered ways and batteries. These fragments were so heavy that they crushed in the temporary blindages which the Turks had arranged for shelter, and as Dupuis has recorded, “some Turk or other always remained dead under the weight.” This weapon was facetiously termed the tribute, the rocks which it hurled, and which so seriously incommoded the besiegers, being the only tribute the knights were prepared to offer to the sultan.
Whilst this effective machine was working its will upon the assailants, the defenders were carrying on a little subterranean strategy on their own side. Driving galleries beneath the breach, they made openings into the ditch, through which they gradually conveyed away much of the stone with which it was being filled. This material they banked up against their retrenchment, thus greatly adding to its solidity. The work was carried on so briskly under cover of the night, that the amount of the filling which the Turks had with immense labour deposited in the ditch began to shrink perceptibly. For some days they were puzzled to account for this strange phenomenon; after a time, however, the robbery became so palpable that the pasha divined what was going on. lie foresaw, therefore, that unless he took measures to deliver a speedy assault the road by which he hoped to cross into the town would be carried away en masse.
Prior to making his great attempt, which recent experience had taught him must, even if successful, cost him the lives of many of his bravest troops, he thought it advisable to try and secure a capitulation. A parley was demanded in his name, to which the Grand-Master readily consented, not with any idea of surrender, but merely that he might gain further time for the strengthening of his retrenchments. The following day was appointed for the interview, and at the hour named the Turkish envoy, Soliman Bey, made his appearance on the counterscarp, at a point directly opposite the breach. D’Aubusson had appointed Anthony Gaultier, the castellan of ​Rhodes, to be Ms representative on the occasion, and as the breadth of the ditch separated the negotiators, the conference was audible to every one. It was opened by the Turk, who, after having paid a just tribute to the gallantry of the defence, urged upon the knights the propriety of an immediate surrender. “You have,” said he, “done all that lay within the power of mortal men to avert the catastrophe now impending over you; you have immortalized your names by a defence unparalleled in history, but do not carry that resistance too far; let not the madness of despair prompt you to protract your efforts after they have become manifestly hopeless. The breach in your wall is gaping wide and invites our attacking columns; forty thousand of the best troops in the empire are eagerly awaiting the moment which is to give you over into their power; do not by your prolonged obstinacy bring down upon your city the calamities inevitably incident to an assault. Yield yourselves to the clemency of our sovereign; become his allies and your lives shall be spared, your property protected, and you yourselves permitted to retain the government of the island in the strict bonds of friendship with us. If you refuse this offer your lives will be forfeited, your wives and daughters dishonoured, and your children sold into slavery, your city will be utterly destroyed, and the memory of it swept from the face of the earth. Such is the inevitable fate of those who persist in opposing the mighty Mahomet. Choose, therefore, whether you will be his friends or his victims.”
To this speech, so well calculated to excite both the hopes and the fears of the population, Gaultier responded in terms of proud disdain. He assured the envoy that he was mistaken in supposing the town incapable of further resistance; it was true the ramparts were breached, but retrenchments had been constructed behind the ruins, before which the assailants should meet the same fate that had befallen those who had twice vainly attempted the capture of St. Nicholas. As regarded the offers of capitulation, the treachery of the Turkish army in moments of triumph had been too frequently displayed to enable the besieged to place any reliance on their pledges. As to the alleged desire of Mahomet to be a friend and ally to the Order, he was employing a most unusual method to attain that object. If he were ​really desirous of entering into an alliance with them, let him draw off his forces from the hostile attitude in which they stood on the shores of Rhodes, and then let them negotiate a treaty on terms of equality. If, on the other hand, they were resolved to take possession of the island, let them make their boasted assault without further parleying; they would find the garrison ready to receive them, trusting in the power of God to defend the right.
This bold reply taught Paleologus that he had nothing to gain by negotiation. The audacity of the challenge with which it concluded aroused feelings of the most lively indignation and animosity throughout his army. The Christians had invited an attack, the place should therefore be carried at all hazards, regardless of cost. In order to stimulate his soldiers he promised them the entire booty of the town, and the success of the assault became so assured that sacks were made with which to carry off the anticipated pillage. Stakes were prepared and sharpened on which the knights were to be impaled, and each soldier carried at his waist a bundle of cords with which to secure his prisoners. Everything being thus prepared, the signal for the onset was awaited with the utmost impatience. Before taking this step, the pasha opened a tremendous fire from every gun which could be brought to bear on the breach and adjacent ramparts. This bombardment was continued without intermission throughout the day and night preceding that on which the assault was to take place, and its effect was so destructive that the defenders found it impossible to remain upon the rampart. During the night the troops who were to commence the attack were silently moved into their positions, the roar of artillery continuing with unabated virulence. The garrison, having been withdrawn from the rampart, were not aware of what was taking place; no extra precautions, therefore, were taken to resist the impending storm.
About an hour after sunrise, on the morning of the 27th July, the signal was given by the firing of a mortar. The attempt was made upon several points of the enceinte at the same moment, but the main efforts were concentrated upon the breach in the Jews’ quarter, the others being merely feints to distract the defence. The severity of the fire which the pasha had kept up so ​unremittingly for the preceding twenty-four hours had had the effect which he designed. Quailing beneath the pitiless storm of iron and stone, all who were on the ramparts had been gradually driven to seek shelter. When, therefore, the assailants rushed through the breach they found no opponents to resist their onset. In a few minutes, and before the alarm had been given in the town, the standard of the Moslem was waving on the crest of the parapet, and the Turks were pouring in a countless throng through the defenceless gap.
This was indeed a critical moment for the fortunes of the Order. hitherto they had maintained the defence with marvellous success. Though many a hard-fought struggle had chequered the history of the preceding two months, though there had been moments when the obstinacy and determination of the attack had made the fate of the city quiver in the balance, still the dauntless front of the indomitable defenders had successfully withstood the tempest. Now, alas! in an ill-fated moment, those defenders were no longer at their post in the hour of need; those ramparts which had hitherto been protected from the tread of the Moslem were now swarming with their hosts, and the banner of Islam was waving triumphantly over the already half-conquered fortress. In this disastrous conjuncture a helpless panic seemed to have overtaken every one. Men ran to and fro in their dismay, scarce knowing where to bend their steps or how to resist the storm which had thus burst on them. A few moments more of this perilous confusion and all must have been lost. Providentially D’Aubusson, ever watchful and ever at hand, rushed promptly to the scene of contest. His presence instantly reanimated his followers, and restored order and decision where but a moment before all had quailed with dismay. With the speed of lightning he dashed at the rampart; its summit could only be reached from within by ladders, and the first to ascend, sword in hand, was the Grand- Master himself.
Now might be seen the unusual spectacle of the besieged converted into assailants, and endeavouring to recover by escalade the rampart which had been secured by the enemy. Twice did D’Aubusson attempt the ascent and twice was he hurled from the ladder, each time severely wounded. Once again did ​he renew the effort. His knights, he felt, must. recover the lost ground or all was over; better to die on the breach than to survive the loss of his stronghold. The third time he succeeded in mounting the wall, where, being speedily joined by numerous comrades, the fight became more equal. The mere numbers of t.he Turks acted prejudicially to them; they were so crowded on the narrow rampart that they were unable to act with vigour. Swaying to and fro before the fierce attack of the knights, they were gradually driven backward with resistless force over the breach.
The pasha was not prepared tamely to surrender the advantage he had secured. A body of veteran janissaries was despatched to support the yielding assailants, and once more to secure possession of the breach. D’Aubusson, in his gallant array, was easily recognizable in the throng, and Paleologus, who knew that he was the life and soul of the defence, told off a certain number of chosen men, who were to forego all meaner prey, and to devote themselves to a combined attack upon the hero so conspicuous at the head of his heroic band. Dashing upon the defenders with an impetus which had so often before led to victory, and clearing for themselves a passage through the mass of combatants, they succeeded in reaching the spot where D’Aubusson stood. hemmed in though he was by these new foes, ho yielded not a step, but maintained the unequal combat with undaunted energy. His desperate situation was soon seen by his brothers-in-arms, and a rush made to the rescue. The janissaries were driven back in confusion, and D’Aubusson extricated from his most perilous position. Unfortunately, however, before this aid arrived he had received three new and most grievous wounds.
Ere he was borne from the field he had the consolation of seeing the enemy driven over the blood-stained breach, and his victorious knights pursuing them at the edge of the sword. This, in fact, was the turning point of the struggle. The panic once established spread amongst the infidels with a rapidity which their disorganized and overcrowded condition rendered fatal. Plying from the avenging wrath of their pursuers, they found all egress blocked by the tumultuous masses assembled on the spot. In this perilous ​predicament friend fared as ill as foe, and the most eager of the fugitives hewed for themselves a pathway to safety by the indiscriminate slaughter of their fellow-soldiers. Numbers who were unable thus to escape were hurled from the ramparts into the town, a fall of twenty feet, where they were instantly massacred by the infuriated inhabitants. Meanwhile a deadly fire had been kept up from every available point upon the dense crowd congregated on the breach, and as at that short distance every shot told, the slaughter became terrific. The struggle had now degenerated into a massacre. Chased by their excited and victorious enemy, they were mown down without the slightest attempt at resistance. Safety was not to be found even within the limits of their own camp. They were driven from thence in headlong confusion; the great banner of Paleologus, which was planted in front of his pavilion, falling into the hands of the victors.
The demoralization of the besieging army was now complete. After a succession of repulses, in each of which the slaughter of his troops had been terrific, Paleologus had concentrated all his power on one last effort. His plans had succeeded beyond his expectation; the besieged had been taken by surprise; the rampart had been gained without a struggle, and yet the golden opportunity had been lost. His battalions had recoiled from the onset of the defenders, and a comparative handful of Christians had driven back the flower of his army. In spite of numbers, the effort had proved a complete failure; the ditches were choked with the bodies of the slain, and the panic-stricken survivors were flying from the scene. It was felt on both sides that the victory was decisive, and that the siege was at an end.
Rhodes was saved. The troops of the pasha were embarking in tumultuous haste on board their galleys. The liberated townspeople were celebrating with enthusiastic joy the triumph of the defence. Meanwhile, Peter D’Aubusson, the saviour of his city and the hero of his age, lay in his magisterial palace unconscious of his well-earned triumph, prostrated by five different wounds, one of which the physicians had pronounced mortal.
* ↑ Whilst on the subject of historians, it may be well to note that the incidents of the siege about to be recorded are mostly derived from three contemporary writers, viz., the above-named Caoursin and Merry Dupuis, and the Turkish writer Khodgia Effendi. All the later historians have taken their narratives from these three writers.
* ↑ This hill has been called Sir Sidney Smith’s hill, and a house at its top still bears his name. It was here that he took up his abode in 1802, in order that he might keep a vigilant look-out for the French fleet during the expedition to Egypt.
* ↑ Some doubt exists as to what the palm here referred to really was. It could not have been the Italian palm, which was 8¾ inches. Possibly the old Roman palm was intended, of which four went to the pes, or foot of 11.62 inches. In this case the palm would have been 29 inches, and the calibre of the basiliska from 23 to 26 inches. The English palm is 3 inches.