gone so badly with Dragut as
upon this occasion. On the one side, should he and his men land they would
be massacred; on the other hand, his road to the open sea was barred by an
immensely superior force. Recognising the logic of circumstances, and
seeing no way of escape, the white flag was hung out by the Moslem leader.
The only terms, however, which he could obtain were immediate surrender or
instant death. It must have been a moment of anguish to the man who
hitherto had always ridden on the crest of the wave of success and
achievement to be thus trapped like a rat; and to have the added bitterness
of the thought that had he exercised seamanlike care and precaution in
keeping a good look-out he might have escaped. As it was, he was allowed no
time for reflection, but had to decide on the instant: he did the only
thing possible in the circumstances, which was to haul down his flag and to
become the thrall of his lifelong foes.

The principal captives were made to pass before young Doria. When Dragut
beheld him he cried out in a fury: "What! Am I a slave to that effeminate
Caramite?" for Doria was but a beardless youth. These opprobrious epithets
being interpreted to the young nobleman, "highly incensed he flew at
Dragut, tore out his beard and moustaches, and buffeted him most
outrageously: nay his passion was so great it is said that had he not been
prevented, he certainly would have sheathed his sword in the bowels of that
assuming prisoner."

For four long years Dragut rowed in Doria's galley. No distinctions were
made in those days, and knight or noble, companion or grand master, basha
or boy, was, if caught, condemned to the rowers' bench to slave at the oar
beneath the boatswain's lash, perchance alongside some degraded criminal,
filthy and swarming with vermin. While Dragut was employed as a galley
slave there came on board the craft in which he rowed Monsieur Parisot,
Grand Master of the Knights of Malta. This high officer, recognising his
old enemy, called out to him in Spanish:

"Hola, Senor Dragut, usanza de guerra" ("The usage of war, Senor Dragut").

To which the undaunted corsair merely replied with a laugh:

"Y mudanza de fortuna" ("And a change of luck").

The Grand Master, who had known the chain and lash himself, smiled and
passed on--there was no pity in those days.

But Dragut was not destined to end his life as a galley slave, for, when
indeed hope must have died within him, after more than