The fight was now general, and the movements of both fleets obscured by clouds of smoke. Separate detachments desperately engaged each other, without regard to what was going on in other quarters; and there were few of the combinations and manœuvers of a great naval battle. The galleys grappled each other, and soldiers, sailors and galley slaves fought, hand to hand, boarding and repelling boarders, in turn. There was enormous loss of life; the decks being encumbered with the dead, and in some ships every man on board was either killed or wounded. The blood flowed in torrents out of the scuppers, and the waters of the gulf were stained for miles. Wrecks of vessels encumbered the sea, with hulls shattered, masts gone, and thousands of wounded and drowning clinging to spars, and crying vainly for help. As we have already seen, Barberigo, with the Christian left wing, was early in sore distress; Barberigo himself being mortally wounded, his line turned, and several of his galleys being sunk or captured. But the Venetians, in sheer despair, increased their efforts, and succeeded in driving off their enemies. In turn they became the assailants, and boarded Turk after Turk, putting the crews to the sword. They were led to the assault by a Capuchin friar, crucifix in hand--as were many other crews. In some cases the Christian galley slaves of the Turkish vessels broke their chains and joined their countrymen against their Moslem masters. The galley of the Viceroy of Egypt was sunk, and he himself was killed by John Contarini, the Venetians having no mercy for even a drowning Turkish enemy. The death of their commander spread dismay among his followers, and that division fled before the Venetians. Those nearest the land ran on shore, escaping, and leaving their vessels to be captured, and many perished before they could gain the land. Barberigo lived to hear the news, and giving thanks, expired in the moment of victory.