The Mediterranean Crucible: A World in Conflict

In the early 16th century, the Mediterranean was a battleground of empires, faiths, and ambitions. The fall of Granada in 1492 had marked the end of Muslim rule in Iberia, but it also scattered thousands of skilled Moorish warriors and sailors across North Africa. These exiles, now known as the “Andalusians,” carried with them a burning resentment against Spain and its Catholic monarchs. Meanwhile, the Ottoman Empire, under Selim I, was expanding westward, eyeing the strategic ports of the Barbary Coast.

It was against this backdrop that a new challenge emerged for the Sultan of Jijel—a challenge far greater than leading fierce highland tribes against their neighbors. A desperate plea arrived from Algiers, where the Moors had endured a seven-year Spanish blockade. Their ships rotted in harbor, their livelihoods withered, and their defiance grew. The death of Ferdinand II of Aragon in 1516 provided the spark for rebellion. The Moors of Algiers, led by local chieftains like Salim, sought allies—and found one in the infamous corsair Oruç Reis, known to history as Barbarossa.

The Arrival of Barbarossa: A Pirate’s Gambit

Barbarossa was no ordinary pirate. A seasoned naval commander with a reputation for audacity, he had already restored the deposed king of Béjaïa twice—losing an arm in the process. When Salim’s envoys arrived in Jijel, they offered him an irresistible opportunity: Algiers, a strategic jewel, ripe for conquest. For Barbarossa, this was more than a raid; it was a chance to carve out a kingdom.

In 1516, he set sail with 6,000 men and 16 galleys, splitting his forces between land and sea. His first move was a calculated strike against the rival pirate stronghold of Cherchell, where he eliminated a potential challenger, Kara Hasan, in a brutal display of realpolitik. By the time Barbarossa reached Algiers, the city’s desperate inhabitants welcomed him as a savior. But their relief would soon turn to dread.

The Siege of Algiers: Betrayal and Bloodshed

Barbarossa’s initial assault on the Spanish-held fortress, known as the “Peñón of Algiers,” was a failure. Despite 20 days of relentless attacks, the Spanish commander defiantly refused to surrender, taunting Barbarossa with reminders of his past defeats. Meanwhile, the Moors and Arabs of Algiers began to realize their grave miscalculation. They had traded one oppressor for another—and Barbarossa was far less forgiving.

The turning point came with the murder of Salim, the Arab chieftain who had invited Barbarossa. The official story—that Salim was plotting with the Spanish—was likely a fabrication. In a chilling display of power, Barbarossa rounded up the city’s elite during Friday prayers at the Sidi Boumediene Mosque. The doors were barred, and the suspected conspirators were beheaded on the steps. The message was clear: resistance would be met with swift and brutal retribution.

The Spanish Counterattack: A Storm of Misfortune

Cardinal Jiménez of Spain, alarmed by Barbarossa’s growing influence, dispatched a massive fleet under Don Diego de Vera. But the 7,000-strong expedition was a disaster. The Spanish troops were routed by Barbarossa’s forces, and a violent storm dashed their ships against the shore. The defeat sent shockwaves through Christian Europe. How could a ragtag band of pirates and renegades humiliate a great power?

Barbarossa, now emboldened, expanded his dominion. By 1517, he had defeated the Prince of Tunis, seized Tlemcen, and forged alliances with Fez and Morocco. His fleet terrorized the coasts of Italy, crippling Genoese, Neapolitan, and Venetian trade. The Mediterranean, once a Spanish lake, was becoming a corsair’s playground.

The Final Campaign: Death of a Legend

The newly crowned Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, could no longer ignore the threat. In 1518, he authorized the Marquis of Comares, governor of Oran, to lead a 10,000-strong army against Barbarossa. Cornered in Tlemcen with only 1,500 men, Barbarossa staged a daring nighttime escape, scattering treasure in his wake to slow the Spanish pursuit. But at a narrow river crossing, he made a fatal decision. Hearing the cries of his rearguard, he turned back—a gesture of loyalty that cost him his life.

The battle was a massacre. Barbarossa fought like a lion, but the Spanish onslaught was overwhelming. His body was found among the dead, one arm severed, his red beard matted with blood. He was 44 years old.

Legacy of the Red Beard

Barbarossa’s death marked the end of an era, but his legacy endured. His younger brother, Hayreddin, would take up his mantle, forging an even greater pirate empire under Ottoman patronage. The Barbary corsairs would plague Europe for centuries, their raids reaching as far as Iceland and Ireland.

Yet Barbarossa was more than a pirate. To the Moors of Algiers, he was a liberator—albeit a ruthless one. To the Spanish, he was a devil incarnate. His story is a reminder of the Mediterranean’s turbulent past, where faith, greed, and ambition collided on the high seas. Today, his name still echoes in the annals of history—a symbol of defiance, daring, and the relentless pursuit of power.