Finding that the strong western walls were difficult to storm the crusaders sent the larger part of their forces round to the eastern harbour where they soon broke into the city. The inhabitants immediately began streaming out of the southern gates. Within twenty-four hours the crusaders were in possession of Alexandria. Once again, as at Antioch in 1097, Jerusalem in 1099, and Constantinople in 1204, these crusading soldiers showed that they had learned nothing from the bloodthirsty errors of their forefathers, and that they were still possessed by the maniac savagery of the furor Normannorum.
Making no distinction between Coptic Christians, Jews, or Moslems, they put the whole city to the sword, looting, ransacking, raping and murdering. In vain King Peter tried to restore order and discipline. In vain he pleaded with the crusaders to preserve Alexandria and put it into a state of defence so that they could hold it against the Moslem army that was certain to come against them. But by now the gates themselves had been set on fire and the whole city—once the most gracious in the Mediterranean—resembled a charnel house, illuminated by the fires of its destruction and suffocating under a rolling pall of smoke. As at Constantinople, once the crusaders laid their hands upon the fabulous treasures of the city—looting Christian churches along with mosques, private houses, as well as the great storehouses of the docks—they forgot all about the object of their mission. From the moment that the crusaders swept into Alexandria the Crusade itself was over. Before very long all the ships were down to their gunwales with loot—and not only with treasure. Some five thousand captives, Christians, Jews and Moslems, were taken away into slavery—a slavery they had not known in Egyptian Alexandria.
Although it is impossible to assign any personal blame to the Order for the atrocity that was the capture of Alexandria it cannot entirely be exculpated. (After all, members of the Order had also taken part in the rape of Constantinople.) On the other hand, the Knights were probably no more to blame than King Peter for the outrageous indiscipline and inhuman behaviour of the conquering army. They, like he, stood to gain far more by turning Alexandria into a Christian fortress from which they could have prosecuted the war, with the ultimate intention of regaining the Holy Land. It was not to be. When the overladen fleet was reunited in Cyprus any attempts to hold the army together and to make preparations for a proper long-term campaign in the following year were frustrated. The crusaders were eager to return to their homes in Europe and display their new-found wealth.
The direct result of the capture and sack of Alexandria was the rekindling of Moslem hatred of Christians. It not only failed in its main purpose, but it provoked a response (as had the capture of Jerusalem) that was ultimately to rebound upon the victors. Sixty years later, still mindful of what had been done at Alexandria, the Moslems would invade and devastate Cyprus, sparing the Christians no more than they themselves had been spared. The fall of the last important Latin kingdom in the Eastern Mediterranean may be traced almost directly to the desire for revenge inspired by the Alexandrian massacre.
The destruction of the city, while almost certainly regretted by King Peter and the Hospitallers, came as an equal blow to Venice—though for very different reasons. The Venetians had envisaged that in acquiring it they would immensely increase their trade with the East and that, with Alexandria under Latin control, their proud City of the Waters would become even richer. Their hopes were dashed. The only people who had any cause to rejoice were the Genoese, who had carefully taken little part in the expedition. They could rejoice in the discomfiture of their great rival, as well as in the fact that their absence from the scene gave them some tolerable credit in the Moslem world. A further outcome of the campaign of 1365 was that for some years the supply of eastern luxury goods and spices to Europe practically dried up. Except for the plunder that went back to Europe from Alexandria—and no doubt also to the island of Rhodes—no real benefit accrued from this Crusade which the Pope and King Peter had so hopefully seen as the beginning of a new era in the East. All in the end, Christians and Moslems alike, were the losers.
Chapter 11
THE WIND AND THE SEA AND THE SHIPS
The Aegean Sea was the battlefield where the Knights of St John were to engage the enemy for nearly two centuries. They became as familiar with it as their predecessors had been with the desert land of Syria or the mountainous peaks of the Lebanon. Battered by storms in winter the Knights knew it then only from their viewpoint on the battlemented walls of Rhodes, for the sailing season came to an abrupt end in November and sometimes a month or so beforehand. Like the ancients they brought their galleys ashore over winter for refitting and repairing, or else had them securely moored in the sheltered waters of the Mandraccio. April or May saw the galleys ready once more to creep out in search of enemy merchantmen, or to dash like aquatic insects on their oared legs at a signal from Piskopi that traffic was passing through the strait.
The sea that became part and parcel of their life, the Sea of the Kingdom as it had been called by the Greeks, was more densely studded with islands than any other area in the Mediterranean. It was this which had enabled men millennia before to develop the art of navigation, encouraged as they had been when making a departure by nearly always having another island in sight. It was also the only part of the Mediterranean that was blessed with regular winds which blew throughout the sea-going months of summer. In July and August the Etesian winds (called from the Greek etos, a year, because they were regular annually) blew from between north-west and north-east strong and steady, declining slightly at nightfall but picking up again shortly after sunrise and reaching their maximum in the early afternoon. It was then that the rowers at the galley benches could take their ease, while the Rhodian seamen hoisted the high-shouldered lateen sails and the galley plunged forward at top speed. Because this was the season of fair weather, Bel Tempo, the Etesians were also called Beltemp (later corrupted to Meltem, as they are still known). During the summer months, except for a little early morning mist, there were no fogs and visibility was usually crystal clear. The northerly winds broomed the atmosphere and produced that extraordinary clarity of Greek light which makes an object several miles distant as sharply defined as one a few cables away. In the spring and autumn months, when the Meltem were not blowing, the sea was often misted with calm and a haze which the Rhodians called calina would lie like a smoky varnish over the surface. The peaks of the islands where the Knights had their look-out points would rise up sharp above the haze, and from their viewpoints the watchmen could descry the masts and yards of merchantmen moving softly through the island channels. It was then that, alerted by a signal or a beacon fire, the waiting galley could dash forward unobserved and be at close quarters before the crew on her opponent’s deck had spotted the lean bows smoking out of the mist.
Like all Mediterranean seamen they did not have to bother with tidal problems for the rise and fall was negligible, being only a matter of inches. Currents, however, were another matter and the pilots, who in any case had been familiar with the sea around the island since they were boys, had to be expert in knowing what flow might be expected in the channels between the islands. A galley under oars might make four and a half knots at full speed and about seven with a fair wind, which meant that a current of anything over half a knot was something to be reckoned with. It was upon the application of his knowledge of the direction and speed of the currents that a good pilot might help the galley-master make a capture where, on the face of it, it would have seemed that a fleeing merchantman was destined to make its escape. Up north by the Dardanelles, where the Black Sea flows into the Aegean, there was a strong surface current running south-westerly, but this was beyond the operational area of the Rhodian galleys. The overall current which interested them most was the southerly one which, driven by the Meltem, drove steadily along the islands, headlands, and inlets of the sea. Since there is a clockwise current throughout the whole Mediterranean, varying in strength but almost always present, pilots had to take this into account wh
en working off the mainland coast. The current swirls past the island of Cyprus, turns westerly when it meets the southern coast of Turkey, and then flows northerly. In summer the current induced by the Meltem might cancel out this current or might even override it, but at other seasons of the year the pilot would have to take it into account. Similarly between individual islands, depending upon from what direction the wind was blowing, purely local currents—sometimes flowing as fast as two knots—had to be reckoned with. It was upon the Rhodian expertise in pilotage, as well as upon the excellence of their galleys and the fighting qualities of the Knights and men-at-arms, that the Order of St John relied for its mastery of these narrow waters. Southerly gales, bringing with them thick overcast weather (although little met with in the sailing months) could negate all other currents and give a north-flowing current even as far as the Bosporus and the Dardanelles.
Around Rhodes itself the Meltem which govern all the conditions of the Aegean in summer, instead of blowing from north-west, turned towards the Asian mainland and blew hard from almost due west. This gave a good working wind under sail for running up to the northern islands like Cos and Leros or to Smyrna itself, while for cruising off the southern coastline of Anatolia, into the Bay of Anatalya, or running down to Cyprus the galleys had a fair wind from astern. In Rhodes the westerly was the prevailing wind. In midsummer it might alternate with cool northerlies but there were also times when a lowering sky over Asia would betoken the advent of the most unpleasant weather in the island—unpleasant only in the landsman’s sense, for the seaman could often make good use of it. This occurred when the air over the thousands of square miles of parched mainland blew in from the east, raising the temperature and the humidity and causing the citizens of Rhodes to close their shutters and lie down in sweaty darkness on their beds. At such times galleys or merchant ships at sea could find reasonable anchorage and a lee under the southeastern shores of the island. They could also use this summer wind to make off to the islands that lay to the west, Crete for example. Other things which the Rhodian pilots, shipmasters, and their seamen had to know about were those typical island squalls which boil up over the high limestone peaks of the Aegean. Strong winds, or gales from the north, would cause violent gusts to descend the slopes and valleys on the lee side of mountainous islands or headlands. The mariner unfamiliar with this sea, who might have hoped to find a peaceful shelter in such areas, would be hit with terrifying blasts of wind, quite sufficient to dismast his vessel.
Except at one point off Crete, where considerable depths are found, the Aegean is a comparatively shallow sea. This means that any strong winds will kick up a short and unpleasant breaking sea far more quickly than would occur in an ocean or a deep sea. Under these conditions the narrow galleys with their comparatively shallow draught would find it almost impossible to pursue a course with the swell on the beam. If there was sea room they could turn and run before the weather; if not then they must head into it, the oarsmen straining at the jumping oars to try to maintain the ship’s status quo.
It was upon the men who manned the heavy looms of the oars that the galley depended for its speed in approach and for the run-in that preceded the action of ramming and boarding. In the days prior to the advent of guns upon ships the ram was still the principal weapon of the war galley. It could be used in two ways: either for a direct beam-on attack with the object of shattering the opponent’s side, or for making a glancing blow right down the side of the enemy, shattering his oars and leaving him stationary and helpless. The final act in all these engagements was to close, secure your opponent to you with grapnels, and pour on board. As the galley ran into the attack the archers and crossbow-men would open fire, hoping to clear the decks so as to facilitate the entrance of the boarding party. The latter was composed of Knights and men-at-arms, who were stationed on a platform forward of the main mast known as the rambades. At a later date this area carried light cannon and anti-personnel weapons which were also used to clear the opponent’s decks during the run-in.
The human machinery that toiled below decks in circumstances of almost unbelievable hardship was made up of condemned criminals and captive Moslem slaves. At a later date these were supplemented by the buonavoglie, usually men who to escape the jail that awaited debtors had come to an arrangement with their creditors and served a necessary number of years until their debts were cleared. These men of course were paid; they also enjoyed better living conditions than the slaves and criminals; and they were distinguished from them by a curious kind of haircut (rather like a Red Indian’s) which left a plume of hair growing down the centre of the head with either side close-shaved.
The conditions of a galley slave’s life have been often enough described and the expression ‘working like a galley slave’ has passed into the language. One of the best descriptions was given some centuries later by a Frenchman who had himself been condemned to the galleys. Despite the difference in time, the ships and the lives of the men who laboured in them had changed little.
(The galley slaves) are chained six to a bench; these are four foot wide and covered with sacking stuffed with wool, over which are laid sheepskins that reach down to the deck. The officer in charge of the galley slaves stays aft with the captain from whom he receives his orders. There are also two under-officers, one amidships and one at the prow. Both of these are armed with whips with which they flog the naked bodies of the slaves. When the captain gives the order to row, the officer gives the signal with a silver whistle which hangs on a cord round his neck; the signal is repeated by the under-officers, and very soon all fifty oars strike the water as one. Picture to yourself six men chained to a bench naked as they were born, one foot on the stretcher, the other lifted and placed against the bench in front of him, supporting in their hands a vastly heavy oar and stretching their bodies backwards while their arms are extended to push the loom of the oars clear of the backs of those in front of them… Sometimes the galley slaves row ten, twelve, even twenty hours at a stretch, without the slightest rest or break. On these occasions the officer will go round and put pieces of bread soaked in wine into the mouths of the wretched rowers, to prevent them from fainting. Then the captain will call upon the officers to redouble their blows, and if one of the slaves falls exhausted over his oar (which is not uncommon) he is flogged until he appears to be dead and is thrown overboard without ceremony.
It is little wonder that slave revolts aboard galleys were marked by unimaginable savagery. These would most often occur during close action and boarding work. If it appeared that their own vessel was being taken by the enemy the slaves would all rattle their chains and howl to be set free, for if it was a Moslem vessel that was being captured the rowers at the oars would almost all be Christians, and vice versa. It was the captured and defeated enemy who provided the main working power of the galley. The use of the galley slave at sea produced further problems when ships were in harbour. The slaves could not of course live permanently aboard, so elaborate prison quarters had to be constructed to house them. These also required guards and maximum security, for a slave revolt ashore might be even more disastrous than one in a ship. During the winter months when the galleys were laid up for refit the slaves were employed on harbour and defence works. Many of the great walls and fortified towers that grace the city of Rhodes were erected by slave labour working under the orders of Rhodian masons to the designs of Italian fortress engineers. It is little wonder that an Italian viewing some Turkish galley slaves could remark, ‘Poor creatures! They must envy the dead.’ But exactly the same fate befell any Christians who fell into Moslem hands. Many a Knight of St John in the centuries to come would end his days on the oar bench unless, or until, his ransom was forthcoming. A hard world breeds hard men, and in the clash between Crescent and Cross that was to continue all over the Mediterranean for some five centuries these conditions of life were to be known by generation upon generation.
From the outside, however, the galley was a thing of beauty. Her lea
n graceful lines led up forward to her heavily decorated and painted prow and figurehead, and at the stern to her equally gilded and ornamented poop where the officers had their living quarters. In a typical galley of this period the captain would be a Knight of the Order, assisted by a professional Rhodian sailing master who was in charge of the Rhodian seamen who manned the yards and sails and did all the shipwork. The second in command was also a Knight and there would inevitably be a number of novices who were doing their year’s training at sea. A galley of this period would be manned by about two hundred oarsmen, from fifty to two hundred soldiers, and up to fifty sailors. The latter would include carpenters and shipwrights, cooks, the master barber and his assistants (he was also the surgeon), as well as one or more pilots and Rhodian helmsmen. Charts existed, but the knowledge of the capes and headlands, islands, bays and anchorages, was mostly carried in the pilot’s head.
The galley had evolved out of the Byzantine dromon, or ‘racer’, but for its ancestry one must go back to the days of the Phoenicians and of classical Greece and Rome. A large galley of the Venetian type might be as long as 180 feet, although the Rhodian galleys were usually shorter than this. The beam on such a galley would be only about nineteen feet and the depth of the hold eight feet. Even on an overall length of 180 feet the waterline length would probably be no more than 125 feet, for there was a very long overhang at the bow and a considerable one at the stern. She was a vessel designed for speed and mobility, not for carrying capacity or for weatherliness in anything other than the months of summer. She stepped two, and sometimes three, short masts on which were set triangular lateen sails. These had been known to the Romans and had then disappeared from the sea until brought back again by the Arabs who had preserved the usage of them in the Red Sea and in their monsoon trade with India. The lateen was, until the invention of the gaff rig centuries later, the most efficient sail for almost all purposes. It required little manpower to hoist and set, it was quite efficient for windward work while, with the two main lateens boomed out on opposing sides (‘goose-winged’), it provided a well-balanced sail area for downhill work. The other principal vessel to be found upon the sea at this time—and the one upon which the Knights preyed—was the ‘round ship’ or merchantman.
The Shield and The Sword Page 8
