for age had no effect apparently, either mentally
or physically, on this man of iron who had by this time reached the age of
seventy-seven.

Leaving the high officers of his future master, the Grand Turk, smarting
under the opprobrium which he had heaped upon their heads, Barbarossa fared
onward with his fleet to Salonica, capturing a Venetian galley on the
voyage: from thence he made his way to the Dardanelles, where he anchored
and remained several days, to make ready his fleet for the spectacular
entry which he intended to make into Constantinople.

The city on the Golden Horn was all agog for the arrival of Barbarossa; no
matter what private opinions the inhabitants might have had concerning him,
of which we shall hear more presently, they were none the less all curious
to a degree to catch sight of this man, so famous in his evil supremacy on
that distant shore of Northern Africa.

Kheyr-ed-Din, among his other qualities, possessed in the highest degree
that of a successful stage-manager; no pageant which he undertook was ever
likely to fail from the want of the striking and the dramatic. It was now
his business to impress the citizens of Constantinople with an idea of his
greatness, and none knew better than he that it is the outward and visible
sign which counts among the orientals, more perhaps than the inward and
spiritual grace: he may also possibly have felt that he did not possess the
latter to any overwhelming extent.

Even before he left Algiers this entry to the chief city of the Ottoman
Empire had been in the mind of Barbarossa, who had caused to be embarked a
quantity of flags and pennons for the decoration of his grim war-galleys
when they should stream into the Golden Horn. There were also bands of
music, which, it is to be presumed, utilised the delay in the Dardanelles
to attain to something like "a concord of sweet sounds," as the incidents
of the voyage from Algiers, so far, had hardly been conducive to much time
to spare for band-practice. The galleys were scrubbed and gaily painted;
round the ship of Kheyr-ed-Din ran a broad streak of gold on the outer
planking to denote the presence of a King of Algiers, and at last all was
ready. The fleet weighed anchor, and, with banners flying and bands
playing, entered the harbour. The shores were black with spectators; even
the Sultan himself deigned to look forth on the coming of the man from whom
he expected such great things.

Ceremonial was the or