water line. Boarding planks with grappling hooks held the enemy ships fast. The armored knights would fire a salvo of arrows, then scramble aboard to destroy the enemy in hand-to-hand combat with their heavy broadswords. Some of the galleys had small cannons mounted in the bows as well, but the main striking power came from the knights themselves. The principles of battle were those of land warfare carried out on a sea-going platform. As commander of the galleys, d’Amaral had technically been the commander-in-chief of the entire naval force.
Philippe was Commander of Ships, by which was meant the sail-powered vessels. These larger vessels carried knights as well, but additionally were heavily armed with cannon. They had superior firepower, but were at the mercy of the winds. The oar-powered galleys could maintain their maneuverability in calm waters, but were handicapped in high winds and rough seas.
It was the difference between these two kinds of ships that brought the commanders into open conflict. The two met aboard Philippe’s flagship the night before the planned attack. Philippe was dressed for battle, his sword hanging as always within reach on a wooden peg near the door. The men were alone in the main cabin. Philippe sat at the side of the small table bolted to the wall. D’Amaral stood, rather than sit on the edge of Philippe’s bunk bed. D’Amaral was a large man, heavy boned and broad. He had a huge chest and arms, which he used to good advantage in battle. He was dark-skinned and had shining black hair that covered his ears and neck.
There was just enough room to move about the cabin, and d’Amaral kept pacing the entire time. The strain between the men was apparent even before d’Amaral had insisted on leading the attack into the protected harbor with his galleys. The argument had reached its second hour, and both men were feeling the strain.
D’Amaral spoke again, his voice weary and tense. His tone was that of an exasperated teacher lecturing a backward student. The implication was not lost on Philippe. D’Amaral said, “We can be in and out of there before the Turk knows we are upon them. We will row in under the cover of darkness and take them in the night. Why, my knights and guns will have it over in minutes. Your ships can bombard the shore and their ships, set fire to the land base, and destroy all the timber they have. We will be gone before dawn!”
Philippe let him finish and then said quietly, “And what of these capricious winds of August. They shift hourly. My ships could enter that harbor and be becalmed in a moment.” D’Amaral began to object, but Philippe raised his hand and went on. “Worse yet, we could sail in, and a change of wind could blow us into the range of their shore batteries. You would get out to sea, and my men would be slaughtered. I cannot allow the risk, and neither would the Grand Master risk our most powerful forces to the chance changing of an August wind.”
“Grand Master d’Amboise is in Rhodes, and I am here! In command!” D’Amaral was red-faced and furious. His fists were clenched and some spittle showed in the corner of his mouth. He could barely contain his fury, and Philippe thought for a moment that d’Amaral might actually attack him.
Philippe remained completely calm as he spoke, and this infuriated the angry d’Amaral even more. Philippe continued. “I will not allow the pride of our fleet to be jeopardized by an irresponsible attack on uncertain ground. My ships will not be allowed to fall under the shore batteries of the Turk and Mameluke!”
The argument raged for several hours more. Though d’Amaral was technically in command of the entire fleet, somehow Philippe prevailed in the end.
The very next day, the knights’ ships sat at rest outside the harbor, a decoy target too tempting to be passed up by the Turk and Mameluke commanders. They rushed out of the harbor at first light to meet the knights in open water. In moments,
Philippe was Commander of Ships, by which was meant the sail-powered vessels. These larger vessels carried knights as well, but additionally were heavily armed with cannon. They had superior firepower, but were at the mercy of the winds. The oar-powered galleys could maintain their maneuverability in calm waters, but were handicapped in high winds and rough seas.
It was the difference between these two kinds of ships that brought the commanders into open conflict. The two met aboard Philippe’s flagship the night before the planned attack. Philippe was dressed for battle, his sword hanging as always within reach on a wooden peg near the door. The men were alone in the main cabin. Philippe sat at the side of the small table bolted to the wall. D’Amaral stood, rather than sit on the edge of Philippe’s bunk bed. D’Amaral was a large man, heavy boned and broad. He had a huge chest and arms, which he used to good advantage in battle. He was dark-skinned and had shining black hair that covered his ears and neck.
There was just enough room to move about the cabin, and d’Amaral kept pacing the entire time. The strain between the men was apparent even before d’Amaral had insisted on leading the attack into the protected harbor with his galleys. The argument had reached its second hour, and both men were feeling the strain.
D’Amaral spoke again, his voice weary and tense. His tone was that of an exasperated teacher lecturing a backward student. The implication was not lost on Philippe. D’Amaral said, “We can be in and out of there before the Turk knows we are upon them. We will row in under the cover of darkness and take them in the night. Why, my knights and guns will have it over in minutes. Your ships can bombard the shore and their ships, set fire to the land base, and destroy all the timber they have. We will be gone before dawn!”
Philippe let him finish and then said quietly, “And what of these capricious winds of August. They shift hourly. My ships could enter that harbor and be becalmed in a moment.” D’Amaral began to object, but Philippe raised his hand and went on. “Worse yet, we could sail in, and a change of wind could blow us into the range of their shore batteries. You would get out to sea, and my men would be slaughtered. I cannot allow the risk, and neither would the Grand Master risk our most powerful forces to the chance changing of an August wind.”
“Grand Master d’Amboise is in Rhodes, and I am here! In command!” D’Amaral was red-faced and furious. His fists were clenched and some spittle showed in the corner of his mouth. He could barely contain his fury, and Philippe thought for a moment that d’Amaral might actually attack him.
Philippe remained completely calm as he spoke, and this infuriated the angry d’Amaral even more. Philippe continued. “I will not allow the pride of our fleet to be jeopardized by an irresponsible attack on uncertain ground. My ships will not be allowed to fall under the shore batteries of the Turk and Mameluke!”
The argument raged for several hours more. Though d’Amaral was technically in command of the entire fleet, somehow Philippe prevailed in the end.
The very next day, the knights’ ships sat at rest outside the harbor, a decoy target too tempting to be passed up by the Turk and Mameluke commanders. They rushed out of the harbor at first light to meet the knights in open water. In moments,
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