Soliman the Magnificent, who was not inaptly described by this title, for he was successful as both warrior and statesman, meditated both long and anxiously on the new development of affairs before he made up his mind to the step of calling to his assistance the corsair king. But he possessed that truest attribute of greatness in a ruler, the faculty of discerning the right man for any particular post. Brave and reckless fighters he possessed in super-abundance, but somehow—somehow—none of these fiery warriors had that habit of the sea which enabled them to make head against such a past-master in the craft of the seaman as Andrea Doria. The Genoese was chasing the Turkish galleys from off the face of the waters. Constantinople itself was a sea-surrounded city; it was necessary that a check should be administered to the arms of the Christians on this element. It is easy to imagine the preoccupations of the Turkish monarch. The despot rules by force, but he also holds his power by the address with which it is wielded, and he can by no means afford to disregard his personal popularity if he is to make the best use of his fighting men in such a turbulent epoch as was the first half of the sixteenth century. Soliman had the wit to know that he had no mariner who was in any way comparable to Doria; he was also aware that Kheyr-ed-Din had risen from nothing to his present position by his sheer ability as a seaman. It would appear, therefore, a very natural thing that he should invite the co-operation of the King of Algiers, but that with which he had to reckon was the furious jealousy that such an appointment must inevitably arouse among his own subjects. It says much for the steadfast moral courage of the man that he eventually decided to take the risk; it says even more for the absolute correctness of his judgment that he never afterwards repented of the step which he then took. Once the mind of the Grand Turk was made up he hesitated no longer. The Capitan de Rodas, one of his personal guard, was sent to Barbarossa to request him to come to Constantinople and take command of the Ottoman fleet. There were no conditions attached; the honour was supreme. Barbarossa loaded the messenger with rich gifts, and overwhelmed him with honours. For Kheyr-ed-Din this was in a sense the apotheosis of his career. The Grand Turk, the head of the Mohammedan religion, had not only recognised his kingship, but had conferred on him an honour unprecedented, unlooked for, and one of the highest value to a man of such an insatiable ambition. Into the cool and crafty brain of this prince among schemers instantly sprang the thought that now at last his kingdom was secure, that in future the whole of the Barbary coast would own no other lord than he.