Of this they were well aware, and the attack was delayed while the
oarsmen in the galleys rested on their oars out of range to allow them
breathing time before the supreme moment arrived. But the hounds were only
held in leash; there came a signal which was answered by a concentrated
yell of fury and of hate; then from right ahead, right astern, on the port
side and the starboard, the galleys were launched to the attack. But all on
board the great Venetian vessel was as still as that death which awaited so
many of the combatants in this supreme struggle.
Condalmiero had caused the crew of the galleon to lie down upon her decks,
and stood himself, a gallant solitary figure in his shining armour, a mark
for the hail of shot so soon to be discharged. It came, and with it the
mast of the galleon bearing the Lion Standard of St. Mark crashed over the
side into the water; renewed yells of triumph came from the Moslems, but
still that ominous silence reigned on board the galleon. Untouched,
unharmed, the Osmanlis came on firing as rapidly as possible until they
were absolutely within arquebuss range. Closer they came and closer; then
the sides of the galleon burst into sheeted flame, and the guns levelled at
point-blank range tore through the attacking host. Condalmiero was throwing
away no chances; he had directed his gunners to allow their balls to
ricochet before striking rather than to throw them away by allowing them to
fly over the heads of the enemy.
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