Page:A History of the Knights of Malta, or the Order of St. John of Jerusalem.djvu/300

272 predicament friend fared as ill as foe, and the most eager of the fugitives hewed for themselves a pathway to safety by the indiscriminate slaughter of their fellow-soldiers. Numbers who were unable thus to escape were hurled from the ramparts into the town, a fall of twenty feet, where they were instantly massacred by the infuriated inhabitants. Meanwhile a deadly fire had been kept up from every available point upon the dense crowd congregated on the breach, and as at that short distance every shot told, the slaughter became terrific. The struggle had now degenerated into a massacre. Chased by their excited and victorious enemy, they were mown down without the slightest attempt at resistance. Safety was not to be found even within the limits of their own camp. They were driven from thence in headlong confusion; the great banner of Paleologus, which was planted in front of his pavilion, falling into the hands of the victors.

The demoralization of the besieging army was now complete. After a succession of repulses, in each of which the slaughter of his troops had been terrific, Paleologus had concentrated all his power on one last effort. His plans had succeeded beyond his expectation; the besieged had been taken by surprise; the rampart had been gained without a struggle, and yet the golden opportunity had been lost. His battalions had recoiled from the onset of the defenders, and a comparative handful of Christians had driven back the flower of his army. In spite of numbers, the effort had proved a complete failure; the ditches were choked with the bodies of the slain, and the panic-stricken survivors were flying from the scene. It was felt on both sides that the victory was decisive, and that the siege was at an end.

Rhodes was saved. The troops of the pasha were embarking in tumultuous haste on board their galleys. The liberated townspeople were celebrating with enthusiastic joy the triumph of the defence. Meanwhile, Peter D’Aubusson, the saviour of his city and the hero of his age, lay in his magisterial palace unconscious of his well-earned triumph, prostrated by five different wounds, one of which the physicians had pronounced mortal.