“It is agreed,” answered Kheyr-ed-Din, and Hassan Ali.

As the strong sun of a perfect May morning in the Mediterranean leapt above the horizon, Uruj loosed his hounds upon their prey; the oars of the galleys churned the clear blue waters into foam, and the air was filled with the yells of the corsairs.  “Allah!  Allah!” and “Barbarossa!  Barbarossa!” they cried.  It was a war-cry that was destined to re-echo over many a conflict, both by land and sea, in the years that were to come.

In a simultaneous, and as we have seen a concerted attack, the beaks of the galleys crushed into the broadsides of The Galley of Naples, and, ever foremost in the fray, Uruj and Kheyr-ed-Din were the first two men to board.  Then, when men were hand to hand and foot to foot, when Moslem scimitar rang on Christian sabre, and the air was filled with the oaths and shouts of the combatants, the third remaining pirate craft grappled The Galley of Naples by the stern, and a tide of fresh, unwounded men burst into the fray.  This was the end; the Christians were both outnumbered and outfought, for among them were many who were not by profession warriors, whereas no man found a footing among the Sea-wolves, or was taken to sea as a fighting man, unless he had approved himself to the satisfaction of his captain that he was a valiant man of his hands.  We have no record or list of the dead and wounded in this battle, but among the latter was Uruj, who was severely hurt.  Not so Kheyr-ed-Din, who escaped scatheless and took command now that his brother was incapacitated.  The dead were flung overboard with scant ceremony, and the wounded patched up as best might be, and then The Galley of Naples was taken in tow, and the corsairs returned in triumph to Tunis.  Faithful to their treaty, so far, they laid one-fifth of their spoils at the feet of the Sultan.

A great procession was formed of Christian captives marching two and two.  Four young Christian girls were mounted on mules, and two ladies of noble birth followed on Arab horses sumptuously caparisoned.  These unfortunates were destined for the harems of their captors.  The Sultan was greatly pleased at the spectacle, and as the mournful procession defiled before him cried out, “See how heaven recompenses the brave!” Jurien de la Graviere remarks:  “Such was the fortune of war in the sixteenth century.  A man leaving Naples to go to Spain might end his days in a Moorish bagnio and see his wife and daughters fall a prey to miscreants of the worse description.”

It was not till the following spring that Uruj was fit once more to pursue his chosen calling, so severe had been his wounds; but once he was whole and sound again he put to sea accompanied by Kheyr-ed-Din, and this time he had conceived a singularly bold and desperate enterprise.  Two years before the famous Spanish captain, Pedro de Navarro, had seized upon the coast town of Bougie, and had unfortunately left it in the