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THE STRESS OF STORMS LEPANTO |
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THE STRESS OF STORMS LEPANTO |
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MIGUEL DE CERVANTES Y SAAVEDRA
(1547-1616)
Spanish
writer born in Alcalá de Henares in 1547; he died in Madrid en 1616.
He is one of the most valuable authors of World Literature and he was also known as “The Prince of Wit” and “The one-armed man of Lepanto”. It is believed that he served as a soldier under Pope Pius V. He stayed in Geneva and Naples in 1571 and, regardless of his illness, he demanded a dangerous post in the battle of Lepanto and covered himself with glory. During the battle he received two harquebus shots, one on the chest and the other on his left hand that crippled him for the rest of his life.
He was also present at other battles and in 1575, while he was returning to Spain, the galley “El Sol”, in which he was travelling, was captured by Barbary pirates and he had to endure captivity in Algiers for five years. He was rescued in 1580, after a ransom of 500 gold coins was paid. It is also believed that he wrote some of his great masterpieces while he was imprisoned; some of them are: Naval Battle, Manners in Algiers, The Great Turkish Lady, The Great Sultana; and it is also believed that he started imagining Don Quixote during that time. From his other work we can also mention: The Galatea, Numantia, The English Spanish Lady, Exemplary Novels, Journey to Parnassus, Doña Catalina de Oviedo, The Gallant Spaniard, The Labyrinth of Love, The Fortunate Ruffian, Cristobal de Lugo, The Amusing Woman, Choosing a Councilman in Daganzo, The Widowed Ruffian, The Dialogue of the Dogs and. . . Let’s just stop there!
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LEPANTO
That fateful October 7th, 1571, the invincible Ali Pasha, commander of the Ottoman fleet, sailed favoured by the winds in front of the Greek coast. His three hundred ships were following the trail of war towards the calm waters of the Gulf of Lepanto.
There, Spain, the Papal States and Venice had stationed their two hundred and eight ships under the supreme command of Don Juan of Austria.
Diego de Urbino, captain of the Spanish galley “La Marquesa” was ready for the decisive attack against the unbeatable Turkish fleet. In his mind he went over the strategic orders the commander had given to all the captains.
“That way you will lead our ships and board them,” finished emphatically Don Juan of Austria.
“But, sir!” interrupted Alvaro de Bazan. “We are outnumbered by almost a hundred ships!”
“We can stand between their ships and force them to hold their fire,” suggested the brave captain Andrea Doria.
“Yes,” added Alejandro Farecio. “If we have to board them, we must worry more about their Moorish swords and their harquebuses than about their canons.”
“Our victory lies in the courage of each and every one of our men,” the commander reminded them.
“Let’s board them then!” yelled Diego de Urbino.
“Victory over the Islam pagans in the name of Christ!” cheered the commander.
“Let it be so!” said all the captains in a chorus.
Afterwards, on the deck of “La Marquesa”, Diego watched impatiently as the Ottoman sails rose in the horizon as a sign of death.
In one of the chambers below decks, Miguel de Cervantes, ill and stricken with fever, was fighting his giants and dragons.
“Pedro, how is Miguel?”
“I fear not well, sir.”
“Today, more than ever, I need his valour. Take me to his stateroom.”
The creak of the galley muffled the chattering of Cervantes’ crooked teeth.
The captain looked at that skinny, long, pale figure and noticed on the hawk face the torments of a relentless fever. He turned to his second lieutenant Pedro de Amador and said, “I had hoped to find him better.”
But Cervantes, always attentive to the voice of his captain, got up, since he was always an honourable man.
“I am fine, my captain! Pedro, hand me my sword.”
“No, Miguel,” said the captain. “You are not well, stay in bed.”
“I cannot accept that, my captain. I’d rather die today for God and King than to stay here in this dungeon.”
He put his helmet on, held his shield to his breast and leaning on his Toledan sword, stumbled up to the deck. He could see the now very close Ottoman flags proudly waving their crescent moons. Courage filled Cervantes’s young body with new life. He waved his sword in challenge at the enemies of the Church.
“To the oars!” shouted the captains, and thousands of arms beat upon the calm waters of the Gulf of Lepanto.
When Ali Pasha, the Turkish commander, discovered the intentions of the Holy League, his ships were already under attack. Captain Andrea Doria jammed his ship’s bowsprit against the side of the flag ship and, a few minutes later, the unbeatable Ali lost his life in combat, but not without taking with him the lives of many Christians.
At the same time, on the port side of the infidel flag ship, “La Marquesa” attacked the escort vessel. Captain Diego de Urbino fired his harquebus and yelled orders to his men, “Board! To the assault!”
Miguel de Cervantes, Pedro Amador and a hundred more warriors jumped on the Ottoman deck and fought fiercely, hand to hand with the Turks.
There, amidst the cries of the wounded, the hoarse ring of the shields, the clash of steel, the blood and the smoke of the harquebuses, Miguel de Cervantes drove his sword over and over again through the bodies of the pagans.
The blood stained waters of the Lepanto Gulf received without distinction the bodies sacrificed to the god of Jesus and the god of Mohamed.
The Islamic ships burned in great numbers and Juan of Austria showed the world that the Turks were not invincible at sea.
The majority of the ambushed Ottoman forces surrendered their banners after five hours of battle. Others hoisted their sails and managed to escape from the gulf.
After the battle’s clamour had died out, Cervantes saw his friend Pedro faint due to a wound in his leg. Cervantes threw down his shield and with his left hand reached out for his comrade. It was then that the treacherous fire of a harquebus mutilated Miguel’s compassionate hand and another shot smashed into his chest.
Pedro de Amador, still conscious, gathered his strength and crawled until he reached his brave friend. With his hands he tried to stop the blood that was coming from Cervantes’s chest, “Don’t die on me, Miguel”, he begged. “Don’t die now that we have defeated the Turks.”
Miguel de Cervantes opened his eyes; however, he could not see his faithful friend Pedro through the veil that clouded his sight. Nevertheless, he said, “Do not grieve, my good Sancho, I will not die today. I could not even if I wanted to. And believe me, my friend Sancho, that I want to die today, but I can’t, even though I know that destiny has worse misfortunes in store for me.”
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© Alberto Sibaja Álvarez. San José, Costa Rica
® The Stress of Storms
