"Why, what are you bringing that up here for?" he asked. "Have you been diving; for I see your clothes are dripping with water?"

"Ay, ay, sir, I have been in the water, and that Italian commander told me to come straight up here to tell the grand master all about the story; and right glad am I to have met you, for I should have made but a poor fist of it alone; I don't know more of their lingo than just to talk a few words of it."

"Then you had better tell me the story before I take you in."

"Well, it was like this, Sir Knight: I had Hudson and Jeffreys posted upon the wall, and I thought I would take a turn down on the rocks, for it was a dark night, and you can see much farther when you are by the edge of the water than you can when you are at the masthead. I sat there for an hour, and was thinking that it was about time to go up and turn out the other watch, when I saw something dark upon the water. It wasn't a ship, that was certain, and if it was a boat there wasn't any one in it; but it was too dark to make quite sure what it was. I watched it for a time, though I did not think much of the thing, taking it for a boat that had got adrift, or maybe a barrel from one of the Turkish ships.

Presently I made out that it was a good bit nearer than when I first saw it.

"That puzzled me. There is no tide to speak of in these seas, and there was no wind moving about. I could make out now that it was a boat, though a very small one, but certainly there was no one rowing it. It looked a very strange craft, and as I saw by the way it was bearing that it would come ash.o.r.e about five or six fathoms from where I was sitting, I slid quietly off the rock, put my sword down by me handy for action, and waited. Presently the boat came up alongside the rock, and a fellow stood up from behind the stern. I was glad to see him, for I had begun to think that there was witchcraft in the thing moving along by itself, but I can tell you I was savage with myself for not having guessed there was a man swimming behind and pushing it on.

"He stooped over the boat, and took something heavy out; then he felt about among the rocks under the water, and then laid the thing down there, and seemed to me to be settling it firm. I had half a mind to jump up and let fly at him, but then I thought it would be better to let him finish what he was doing, and go off with the idea that no one had seen him. So I kept hid until he started again. He waded a short way before he had to swim, and I could see that as he went he was paying out a rope over the stern. It was clear enough now what he had been up to: he had been fixing an anchor. What he did it for, or what use it could be to him, I could not say, but it was certain that he would not take all that trouble, with the chance of being knocked on the head, for nothing; so I waited for a bit till he had got out of sight, and over to the other side of the port.

"Then I got up and felt about, and, chancing to get my foot under the rope, went right over into the water. After that you may guess I was not long in finding the anchor. I unknotted the rope from it and carried it ash.o.r.e; then it struck me that the Turks might take it into their heads to give a pull on it in the morning, and if they did; they would find out that their game, whatever it was, had been found out; so I got hold of a stone of about twenty pound weight, and fastened the rope's end round it. That was enough to prevent the rope getting slack and make them think that it was still fast to the anchor; but, of course, if they pulled hard on it it would come home directly. I went and reported the matter the first thing this morning to the governor. He seemed to think that it was important, and told me to bring the anchor up to the grand master, who would get one of the English knights to find out all about it; for he could not make out much of what I said."

"It is very important," Gervaise said, "and you behaved very wisely in the matter, and have rendered a great service by your discovery. I will take you in at once to the grand master."

Still bearing the anchor, the sailor followed Gervaise into an apartment where D'Aubusson was taking council with some of the senior knights.

"Pardon my interrupting your Highness," Gervaise said; "but the matter is so important that I knew you would listen to it, however occupied you were." And he then repeated the narrative of the sailor's discovery.

"This is indeed of the highest importance," D'Aubusson said, "and the knowledge that it gives us may enable us to defeat an attempt, that might otherwise have proved our ruin. You see, knights, it solves the question that we were just discussing. We agreed that this long floating bridge that they have been constructing, was intended to enable them to cross the outer port and again attack St. Nicholas; and yet it seemed to us that even by night our batteries would be able to keep up such a fire on the boats, towing the head of the bridge across, as to render it well nigh impossible for them to get it over. Now you see what their plan is.

With the aid of this rope, the end of which they think is firmly fixed on our side, they mean to haul the bridge across, and that so silently that they hope to be upon us almost before we have time to don our armour. We shall now be fully prepared, and need have no fear of the result."

There could now be little doubt that the attack would be made without loss of time, especially as the Turks believed that they could get their bridge across unseen. The fire ships--which were altogether more formidable than those Gervaise had improvised--were ordered to be made ready for action. This being arranged, the admiral left the council at once, that no time should be lost in getting them in readiness.

D'Aubusson then turned to the English sailor.

"You have rendered us a great service indeed by your vigilance, and showed great prudence by allowing the Turk to believe that he had accomplished his mission unsuspected. Had he thought he had been observed, some other plan would have been adopted. For so great a service it is meet that a great reward should be given."

He then took a bag from the hands of one of his secretaries, whom he had sent to fetch it, while they were discussing the matter of the fire ships.

"Here are two hundred golden crowns," he added, handing the bag to the seaman. "With these you can either settle on sh.o.r.e, or can build a stout ship and pursue your calling. Should you do so, call her the St.

Nicholas, in remembrance of the grat.i.tude of the Order of St. John for your having saved that fort from the Turks."

Astonished and delighted at the reward, which represented a very large sum in those days, the sailor stammered his thanks, and added, "I hope tonight that if I again have charge of a fire ship, I may be able to do more to prove to your Highness how grateful I am for the gift."

Throughout the day preparations for the defence of St. Nicholas went on unceasingly. Gangs of men, as usual, worked in the breach; but, as it was deemed advisable that there should be no outward show of activity that would lead the Turks to suspect that their design had been discovered, neither reinforcements of men nor munitions were sent along the mole; everything being taken out by boats, which, rowing closely along under the wall, were hidden from the view of the Turks. Barrels of Greek fire and pitch, cauldrons for heating the latter, a store of firewood, great b.a.l.l.s of cotton steeped in oil and turpentine, sheaves of darts, spikes on short staves, that were, after darkness fell, to be thrust in among the fallen masonry to form a chevaux-de-frise--these, and all other matters that the ingenuity of the defenders could suggest, were landed at the water gate of the fort, while the garrison was strengthened by the addition of a large number of knights. Stores of ammunition were collected in readiness at all the batteries that commanded the mouth of the outer port, and by sunset D'Aubusson felt that everything that was possible had been done to meet the impending storm.

At midnight the Turkish preparations were complete. The attack by the bridge was to be a.s.sisted by a large number of boats and other craft, and many armed galleys were also brought up to destroy or tow away the defenders' fire ships. Paleologus himself was down by the sh.o.r.e directing the preparations. Some of his best troops were placed upon the floating bridge, and, when all was ready, the order was given to pull upon the rope. No sooner, however, did the strain come upon it than there was a jerk, the rope slackened, and it was at once evident that the anchor had been discovered and the well laid plan disconcerted.

Paleologus was furious, but, believing that the attack he had arranged would still be irresistible, he ordered a number of boats to take the bridge in tow, while a still larger force was to make a direct attack upon the breach. The movement was to be conducted as silently as possible until it was discovered, and then a dash forward was to be made.

It was two o'clock before the fresh arrangements were completed and the boats put out. They had gone but a short distance when the anxious watchers in St. Nicholas learnt by the dull, confused sound that came across the water, that the attack was, in spite of the failure of the plan to take the bridge silently across, to be persevered in. A cannon was at once fired to give notice to the other batteries to be in readiness, and as soon as the dark ma.s.s of boats was made out the guns of the fort opened a destructive fire upon them, and a moment later were seconded by those from the fortress; these, however, were at present being fired almost at random, as the Turkish boats could not be made out at that distance. Now that all need for concealment was at an end, the Turkish war cry rose shrilly in the air, and the boatmen bent to their oars. The great cannon at St. Anthony's Church hurled their tremendous missiles at the tower, seconded by the fire of a number of other pieces that had in the darkness been brought down almost to the water's edge.

As before, the boats swept up to the foot of the breach, the Turks leaped out, and, undismayed by the storm of shot, climbed up to the a.s.sault. The short ladders that they had brought with them enabled them to surmount the escarpments so laboriously made, and with loud shouts of "Allah!" they flung themselves upon the defenders on the crest of the breach. Here they were met by a line even more difficult to break through than before. The knights were ranged three deep; those in the front were armed with swords and battleaxes, while those in the other two lines thrust their spears out between the swordsmen, covering them with a hedge of steel points. Others in the rear brought up buckets of blazing pitch and Greek fire, and, advancing through gaps left for the purpose, hurled the buckets down into the struggling ma.s.s on the slope.

There the fire not only carried death among the a.s.sailants, but the lurid flames enabled the batteries to direct their shot with terrible effect upon the breach, the crowded boats at its foot, and the bridge which was, with immense labour, presently got into position.

It was not long before fresh light was thrown upon the scene, as the fire ships, issuing out from the inner harbour, burst into columns of flame, and, towed by boats, came into action. They were convoyed by the two galleys, each with a full complement of knights, and these soon became engaged in a fierce fight with the Turkish vessels that bore down to arrest the course of the fire ships. The scene was indeed a terrible one, the roar of cannon, the shouts of the combatants, the screams of the poor wretches upon whom the terrible Greek fire fell, the clash of arms and the shouts and cries of the Turks as they pressed across the bridge, united in a din that thrilled with horror the spectators, both in the city and on St. Stephen's Hill.

Several of the Turkish galleys, in their efforts to arrest the approach of the fire ships towards the bridge, became themselves involved in the flames; but they were so far successful that when daylight broke the bridge was still intact and the combat at the breach continued to rage with determination and fury on both sides. The Turks there were led by a brave young prince named Ibrahim, a near relative of the sultan, with whom he was a great favourite, and he was ever in the front line of the a.s.sailants, his splendid bravery animating the soldiers to continue their efforts. As the daylight broadened out, however, the light enabled the Christian gunners to aim with far greater accuracy than had before been possible, and, concentrating their fire upon the bridge, across which reinforcements continued to press to the support of the a.s.sailants, they succeeded in sinking so many of the boats that it was no longer pa.s.sable.

Next they turned their fire upon the Turkish galleys, four of which they sank. Shortly afterwards, a ball struck the gallant young leader of the Turks, who, although previously several times wounded, had continued to fight in the front line. He fell dead, and his followers, disheartened by his fall and by the destruction of the bridge, at once abandoned their efforts, and rushed down to the foot of the breach. The terrible scene enacted at the repulse of the previous attack was now repeated.

The concentrated fire of the guns of the defenders carried destruction into the crowded ma.s.s. Some gained the boats that still remained uninjured, and rowed for the opposite sh.o.r.e; the greater number rushed into the water and strove to recross it either by swimming or by the aid of the debris of the shattered boats. Their total loss was greater even than that suffered by them in the first attack, between two and three thousand being either killed or drowned, among them a number of their best officers. The amount of spoil, in the form of rich jewels and costly gold ornaments, found on the bodies of the dead piled on the breach, was very great.

For three days after this terrible repulse the Turks were inactive, the pasha remaining shut up in his tent, refusing to see any one, or to issue orders. At the end of that time he roused himself from his stupor of grief and disappointment, and, abandoning the idea of any further attack upon the point that had cost him so dearly, he ordered the troops to move round and renew the attack upon the wall in front of the Jews'

quarter, and commence the construction of a battery on the edge of the great ditch facing the retrenchment behind the breach before effected.

The knights of Italy and Spain determined to seize the opportunity of retrieving the disgrace that had fallen upon them. At night they descended into the deep cutting, carrying across their ladders, and, silently mounting the opposite side, rushed with loud shouts into the unfinished battery. The Turks there, taken utterly by surprise, made but a slight resistance; a few were immediately cut down, and the rest fled panic stricken.

The knights at once set the woodwork of the battery on fire, hurled the guns down into the ditch, and then returned triumphantly into the town, the dashing feat completely reinstating them in the good opinion of the grand master and their comrades.

The incident showed the pasha that he must neglect no precautions, and, accordingly, he commenced his works at a distance from the walls, and pushed his approaches regularly forward until he again established a battery on the site of that from which his troops had been so unceremoniously ejected. While forming the approaches, the workmen had been constantly hara.s.sed by the fire from the guns on the walls, suffering considerable loss of life; but their numerical superiority was so vast that the loss in no way affected the plans of the pasha.

As soon as the battery was completed, gangs of men, accustomed to mining operations, set to work in its rear to drive sloping pa.s.sages downwards, opening into the face of the great cutting, and through these vast quant.i.ties of earth and stones were poured, so as to afford a pa.s.sage across it, the depth being largely diminished by the great pile of rubbish that had already fallen from the breached wall. This novel mode of attack was altogether unexpected. The knights had regarded the fosse that had been cut at such an enormous expenditure of labour as forming an altogether impa.s.sable obstruction, and were dismayed at seeing the progress made in filling it up. D'Aubusson himself, full of resources as he was, saw that the defence was seriously threatened, unless some plan of meeting this unexpected danger could be devised.

He consulted Maitre Georges; but the latter could make no suggestion; his only advice being the erection of a battery at a spot where it was almost self evident that it could be of no utility whatever.

Other circ.u.mstances combined to render the suspicions D'Aubusson had entertained of the good faith of the renegade almost a certainty.

Georges was seized, tried, and put to torture, and under this owned that he had been sent into the town for the purpose of betraying it; and he was, the same day, hung in the great square. His guilt must always be considered as uncertain. There was no proof against him, save his own confession; and a confession extorted by torture is of no value whatever. There are certainly many good grounds for suspicion, but it is possible that Georges really repented his apostacy, and acted in good faith in deserting the standard of Paleologus. He was undoubtedly a man of altogether exceptional ability and acquirements, and even the knights who have written accounts of the siege do justice to the fascination of his manner and the charm of his conversation.

D'Aubusson now set to work in another direction to counteract the efforts of the Turks. He erected an immense wooden catapult, which threw huge pieces of rock into the midst of the Turkish works, crushing down the wooden screens erected to hide their approaches, breaking in the covered ways, and causing great loss of life among the besiegers. At the same time galleries were driven below the breach, opening into the ditch, where their exits were concealed by ma.s.ses of rubbish. Through these strong working parties issued out at night, and carried away up the pa.s.sages the rocks and other materials that the Turks had, during the day, brought, with immense labour, from a distance to the shoot. The materials so carried away were piled up behind the retrenchment, greatly adding to its thickness and strength.

For some days the Turks observed, to their astonishment, that the road they were constructing across the ditch was diminishing instead of increasing in bulk, and at length it became so evident that the garrison were in some way removing the materials, that the pasha determined to deliver the a.s.sault before the heap was so far diminished as to become impa.s.sable. His former defeats had, however, taught him that success could not be always calculated upon, however good its prospect might appear; and although he had no real hope that the defenders would yield, he sent a formal summons for them to do so. This was refused with disdain, and preparations were at once made for the a.s.sault.

The pasha promised to his soldiers the sack of the town and all the booty captured, and so a.s.sured were they of success that sacks were made to carry off the plunder. Stakes, on which the knights, when taken prisoners, were to be impaled, were prepared and sharpened, and each soldier carried a coil of rope with which to secure his captive.

Before ordering the a.s.sault, the way was prepared for it by a terrible fire from every siege gun of the Turks. This was kept up for twenty-four hours, and so tremendous was the effect that the knights were unable to remain on the ramparts. The Turkish troops moved into position for attack, their movements being covered by the roar of the guns, and soon after sunrise on the 22nd of July the signal was given, and at a number of different points the Turks rushed to the a.s.sault. All these attacks, save that on the breach, were merely feints, to distract the attention of the garrison, and to add to the confusion caused by this sudden and unexpected onslaught. The pasha's plans were well designed and carried out; the knights, unable to keep their places on the ramparts under the storm of missiles, had retired to shelter behind the walls. There was no thought of an instant a.s.sault, as they considered that this would not be delivered until the new wall behind the breach had been demolished.

Consequently, the rush of the Turks found the defenders altogether unprepared. Swarming across the ma.s.s of debris in the ditch, they ascended the breach without opposition, and their scaling ladders were placed against the new wall before the knights could hurry up to its defence. Even before the alarm was given in the town, the Turkish standard was waving on the parapet, and the Moslems were crowding on to the wall in vast numbers. The suddenness of the attack, the complete surprise, the sound of battle at various points around the walls, caused for a time confusion and dismay among the knights charged with the defence of the wall facing the breach. Roused by the uproar, the inhabitants of the town rushed up to their roofs to ascertain what was happening, and their cries of wild terror and alarm at seeing the Turkish banner on the walls added to the confusion. D'Aubusson sprang up from the couch, on which he had thrown himself in full armour, at the first sound of the alarm, and, sending off messages to all the auberges to summon every man to the defence, ran down into the town, followed by a small party of knights.

Rushing through the streets, now filled with half dressed people wild with terror, he reached the foot of the wall, whose summit was crowded with the enemy, and saw in an instant that all was lost unless they could be driven thence without delay. The effect of his presence was instantaneous. The knights, hitherto confused and dismayed, rallied at once, and prepared for the desperate undertaking. The bank on the inside was almost perpendicular, and those charged with its defence had used two or three ladders for ascending to the rampart. These were at once seized and planted against the wall.

The position of the contending parties was now reversed; the Christians were the a.s.sailants, the Turks the defenders. D'Aubusson himself was the first to ascend. Covering his head with his shield, he mounted the rampart; but ere he could gain a footing on the top he was severely wounded and hurled backwards. Again he made the attempt, but was again wounded and thrown down. Once more he mounted, and this time made good his footing. A moment later, Gervaise, who had accompanied him from the palace, stood beside him. Animated with the same spirit as his leader, he threw himself recklessly against the Turks, using a short, heavy mace, which in a melee was far more useful than the long sword.

Scimitars clashed upon his helmet and armour; but at every blow he struck a Turk fell, and for each foot he gained a knight sprang on to the wall and joined him. Each moment their number increased, and the war cry of the Order rose louder and fiercer above the din. The very number of the Turks told against them. Crowded together as they were they could not use their weapons effectually, and, pressing fiercely upon them, the knights drove them back along the wall on either hand, hurling them down into the street or over the rampart. On so narrow a field of battle the advantage was all on the side of the knights, whose superior height and strength, and the protection afforded by their armour, rendered them almost invincible, nerved as they were with fury at the surprise that had overtaken them, and the knowledge that the fate of the city depended upon their efforts. After a quarter of an hour's desperate conflict the Turks were driven down the partial breach effected in the wall by the last bombardment, and the Christians were again the masters of their ramparts. Paleologus, however, hurried up reinforcements, headed by a band of janissaries, whose valour had decided many an obstinate conflict. Before ordering them to advance, he gave instructions to a company of men of approved valour to devote all their efforts to attacking D'Aubusson himself, whose mantle and rich armour rendered him a conspicuous object among the defenders of the breach. Advancing to the attack, the janissaries burst through the ma.s.s of Turks still continuing the conflict, and rushed up the breach. Then the chosen band, separating from the rest, flung themselves upon the grand master, the suddenness and fury of their attack isolating him and Gervaise from the knights around.

Surrounded as he was by foes, already suffering from two severe wounds and shaken by his falls from the ladder, the grand master yet made a valiant defence in front, while Gervaise, hurling his mace into the face of one of his a.s.sailants, and drawing his two handed sword, covered him from the attack from behind. D'Aubusson received two more severe wounds, but still fought on. Gervaise, while in the act of cutting down an a.s.sailant, heard a shout of triumph from behind, and, looking round, he saw the grand master sinking to the ground from another wound. With a cry of grief and fury Gervaise sprang to him, receiving as he did so several blows on his armour and shield intended for the fallen knight, and, standing across him, showered his blows with such strength and swiftness that the janissaries shrank back before the sweep of the flashing steel. More than one who tried to spring into close quarters fell cleft to the chin, and, ere his a.s.sailants could combine for a general rush, a body of knights, who had just beaten off their a.s.sailants, fell upon the ranks of the janissaries with a force and fury there was no withstanding, and the chosen troops of the sultan for the first time broke and fled.

Excited almost to madness by the sight of their beloved master stretched bleeding on the ground, the knights dashed down the breach in eager pursuit. This action was decisive of the fate of the struggle. The panic among the janissaries at once spread, and the main body of troops, who had hitherto valiantly striven to regain the advantage s.n.a.t.c.hed from them, now lost heart and fled in confusion. But their escape was barred by the great body of reinforcements pressing forward across the heap of rubbish that formed the breach over the deep ditch. Maddened by fear, the fugitives strove to cut a way through their friends. The whole of the defenders of the breach now fell upon the rear of the struggling ma.s.s, hewing them down almost without resistance, while the cannon from the walls and towers kept up an unceasing fire until the last survivors of what had become a ma.s.sacre, succeeded in gaining their works beyond the ditch, and fled to their camp. From every gateway and postern the knights now poured out, and, gathering together, advanced to the attack of St. Stephen's Hill. They met with but a faint resistance. The greater portion of the disorganised troops had made no pause at their camp, but had continued their headlong flight to the harbour, where their ships were moored, Paleologus himself, heartbroken and despairing at his failure, sharing their flight. The camp, with all its rich booty and the great banner of the pasha, fell into the hands of the victors, who, satisfied with their success, and exhausted by their efforts, made no attempt to follow the flying foe, or to hinder their embarkation; for even now the Turks, enormously outnumbering them as they did, might be driven by despair to a resistance so desperate as once again to turn the tide of victory.

CHAPTER XXIII THE REWARD OF VALOUR

Gervaise knew nothing at the time of the final result of the battle, for as soon as the knights had burst through the circle of his opponents, he sank insensible on the body of the grand master. When he came to himself, he was lying on a bed in the hospital of the Order. As soon as he moved, Ralph Harcourt, who was, with other knights, occupied in tending the wounded, came to his bedside. "Thank G.o.d that you are conscious again, Gervaise! They told me that it was but faintness and loss of blood, and that none of your wounds were likely to prove mortal, and for the last twelve hours they have declared that you were asleep: but you looked so white that I could not but fear you would never wake again."

"How is the grand master?" Gervaise asked eagerly. Ralph shook his head.

"He is wounded sorely, Gervaise, and the leech declares that one at least of his wounds is mortal; still, I cannot bring myself to believe that so great a hero will be taken away in the moment of victory, after having done such marvels for the cause not only of the Order, but of all Christendom."

"Then you beat them back again from the breach?" Gervaise said.

"That was not all. They were in such confusion that we sallied out, captured their camp, with the pasha's banner and an enormous quant.i.ty of spoil, and pursued them to their harbour. Then we halted, fearing that they might in their desperation turn upon us, and, terribly weakened as we were by our losses, have again s.n.a.t.c.hed the victory from our grasp.