THE three vessels had been sweeping swiftly westwards, the cogstill well to the front, although the galleys were slowly drawingin upon either quarter. To the left was a hard skyline unbrokenby a sail. The island already lay like a cloud behind them,while right in front was St. Alban's Head, with Portland loomingmistily in the farthest distance. Alleyne stood by the tiller,looking backwards, the fresh wind full in his teeth, the crispwinter air tingling on his face and blowing his yellow curls fromunder his bassinet. His cheeks were flushed and his eyesshining, for the blood of a hundred fighting Saxon ancestors wasbeginning to stir in his veins.

"What was that?" he asked, as a hissing, sharp-drawn voice seemedto whisper in his ear. The steersman smiled, and pointed withhis foot to where a short heavy cross-bow quarrel stuck quiveringin the boards. At the same instant the man stumbled forward uponhis knees, and lay lifeless upon the deck, a blood-stainedfeather jutting out from his back. As Alleyne stooped to raisehim, the air seemed to be alive with the sharp zip-zip of thebolts, and he could hear them pattering on the deck like applesat a tree-shaking.

"Raise two more mantlets by the poop lanthorn," said Sir Nigelquietly.

"And another man to the tiller," cried the master-shipman.

"Keep them in play, Aylward, with ten of your men," the knightcontinued. "And let ten of Sir Oliver's bowmen do as much forthe Genoese. I have no mind as yet to show them how much theyhave to fear from us."

Ten picked shots under Aylward stood in line across the broaddeck, and it was a lesson to the young squires who had seennothing of war to note how orderly and how cool were these oldsoldiers, how quick the command, and how prompt the carrying out,ten moving like one. Their comrades crouched beneath thebulwarks, with many a rough jest and many a scrap of criticism oradvice. "Higher, Wat, higher!" "Put thy body into it, Will!""Forget not the wind, Hal!" So ran the muttered chorus, whilehigh above it rose the sharp avanging of the strings, the hiss ofthe shafts, and the short "Draw your arrow! Nick your arrow!Shoot wholly together!" from the master-bowman.

And now both mangonels were at work from the galleys, but socovered and protected that, save at the moment of discharge, noglimpse could be caught of them. A huge brown rock from theGenoese sang over their heads, and plunged sullenly into theslope of a wave. Another from the Norman whizzed into the waist,broke the back of a horse, and crashed its way through the sideof the vessel. Two others, flying together, tore a great gap inthe St. Christopher upon the sail, and brushed three of SirOliver's men-at-arms from the forecastle. The master-shipmanlooked at the knight with a troubled face.

"They keep their distance from us," said he. "Our archery isover-good, and they will not close. What defence can we makeagainst the stones?"

"I think I may trick them," the knight answered cheerfully, andpassed his order to the archers. Instantly five of them threw uptheir hands and fell prostrate upon the deck. One had alreadybeen slain by a bolt, so that there were but four upon theirfeet.

"That should give them heart," said Sir Nigel, eyeing thegalleys, which crept along on either side, with a slow, measuredswing of their great oars, the water swirling and foaming undertheir sharp stems.

"They still hold aloof," cried Hawtayne.

"Then down with two more," shouted their leader. "That will do.Ma foi! but they come to our lure like chicks to the fowler. Toyour arms, men! The pennon behind me, and the squires round thepennon. Stand fast with the anchors in the waist, and be readyfor a cast. Now blow out the trumpets, and may God's benison bewith the honest men!"

As he spoke a roar of voices and a roll of drums came from eithergalley, and the water was lashed into spray by the hurried beatof a hundred oars. Down they swooped, one on the right, one onthe left, the sides and shrouds black with men and bristling withweapons. In heavy clusters they hung upon the forecastle allready for a spring-faces white, faces brown, faces yellow, andfaces black, fair Norsemen, swarthy Italians, fierce rovers fromthe Levant, and fiery Moors from the Barbary States, of all huesand countries, and marked solely by the common stamp of a wild-beast ferocity. Rasping up on either side, with oars trailing tosave them from snapping, they poured in a living torrent withhorrid yell and shrill whoop upon the defenceless merchantman.

But wilder yet was the cry, and shriller still the scream, whenthere rose up from the shadow of those silent bulwarks the longlines of the English bowmen, and the arrows whizzed in a deadlysleet among the unprepared masses upon the pirate decks. Fromthe higher sides of the cog the bowmen could shoot straight down,at a range which was so short as to enable a cloth-yard shaft topierce through mail-coats or to transfix a shield, though it werean inch thick of toughened wood. One moment Alleyne saw thegalley's poop crowded with rushing figures, waving arms, exultantfaces; the next it was a blood-smeared shambles, with bodiespiled three deep upon each other, the living cowering behind thedead to shelter themselves from that sudden storm-blast ofdeath. On either side the seamen whom Sir Nigel had chosen forthe purpose had cast their anchors over the side of the galleys,so that the three vessels, locked in an iron grip, lurchedheavily forward upon the swell.

And now set in a fell and fierce fight, one of a thousand ofwhich no chronicler has spoken and no poet sung. Through all thecenturies and over all those southern waters nameless men havefought in nameless places, their sole monuments a protected coastand an unravaged country-side.

Fore and aft the archers had cleared the galleys' decks, but fromeither side the rovers had poured down into the waist, where theseamen and bowmen were pushed back and so mingled with their foesthat it was impossible for their comrades above to draw string tohelp them. It was a wild chaos where axe and sword rose andfell, while Englishman, Norman, and Italian staggered and reeledon a deck which was cumbered with bodies and slippery with blood.The clang of blows, the cries of the stricken, the short, deepshout of the islanders, and the fierce whoops of the rovers, rosetogether in a deafening tumult, while the breath of the pantingmen went up in the wintry air like the smoke from a furnace. Thegiant Tete-noire, towering above his fellows and clad from headto foot in plate of proof, led on his boarders, waving a hugemace in the air, with which he struck to the deck every man whoapproached him. On the other side, Spade-beard, a dwarf inheight, but of great breadth of shoulder and length of arm, hadcut a road almost to the mast, with three-score Genoese men-at-arms close at his heels. Between these two formidable assailantsthe seamen were being slowly wedged more closely together, untilthey stood back to back under the mast with the rovers ragingupon every side of them.

But help was close at hand. Sir Oliver Buttesthorn with hismen-at-arms had swarmed down from the forecastle, while SirNigel, with his three squires, Black Simon, Aylward, Hordle John,and a score more, threw themselves from the poop and hurledthemselves into the thickest of the fight. Alleyne, as in dutybound, kept his eyes fixed ever on his lord and pressed forwardclose at his heels. Often had he heard of Sir Nigel's prowessand skill with all knightly weapons, but all the tales that hadreached his ears fell far short of the real quickness andcoolness of the man. It was as if the devil was in him, for hesprang here and sprang there, now thrusting and now cutting,catching blows on his shield, turning them with his blade,stooping under the swing of an axe, springing over the sweep of asword, so swift and so erratic that the man who braced himselffor a blow at him might find him six paces off ere he could bringit down. Three pirates had fallen before him, and he had woundedSpade-beard in the neck, when the Norman giant sprang at him fromthe side with a slashing blow from his deadly mace. Sir Nigelstooped to avoid it, and at the same instant turned a thrust fromthe Genoese swordsman, but, his foot slipping in a pool of blood,he fell heavily to the ground. Alleyne sprang in front of theNorman, but his sword was shattered and he himself beaten to theground by a second blow from the ponderous weapon. Ere thepirate chief could repeat it, however, John's iron grip fell uponhis wrist, and he found that for once he was in the hands of astronger man than himself.

Fiercely he strove to disengage his weapon, but Hordle John benthis arm slowly back until, with a sharp crack, like a breakingstave, it turned limp in his grasp, and the mace dropped from thenerveless fingers. In vain he tried to pluck it up with theother hand. Back and back still his foeman bent him, until, witha roar of pain and of fury, the giant clanged his full lengthupon the boards, while the glimmer of a knife before the bars ofhis helmet warned him that short would be his shrift if he moved.

Cowed and disheartened by the loss of their leader, the Normanshad given back and were now streaming over the bulwarks on totheir own galley, dropping a dozen at a time on to her deck, Butthe anchor still held them in its crooked claw, and Sir Oliverwith fifty men was hard upon their heels. Now, too, the archershad room to draw their bows once more, and great stones from theyard of the cog came thundering and crashing among the flyingrovers. Here and there they rushed with wild screams and curses,diving under the sail, crouching behind booms, huddling intocorners like rabbits when the ferrets are upon them, as helplessand as hopeless. They were stern days, and if the honestsoldier, too poor for a ransom, had no prospect of mercy upon thebattle-field, what ruth was there for sea robbers, the enemies ofhumankind, taken in the very deed, with proofs of their crimesstill swinging upon their yard-arm.

But the fight had taken a new and a strange turn upon the otherside. Spade-beard and his men had given slowly back, hardpressed by Sir Nigel, Aylward, Black Simon, and the poop-guard.Foot by foot the Italian had retreated, his armor running bloodat every joint, his shield split, his crest shorn, his voicefallen away to a mere gasping and croaking. Yet he faced hisfoemen with dauntless courage, dashing in, springing back, sure-footed, steady-handed, with a point which seemed to menace threeat once. Beaten back on to the deck of his own vessel, andclosely followed by a dozen Englishmen, he disengaged himselffrom them, ran swiftly down the deck, sprang back into the cogonce more, cut the rope which held the anchor, and was back in aninstant among his crossbow-men. At the same time the Genoesesailors thrust with their oars against the side of the cog, and arapidly widening rift appeared between the two vessels.

"By St. George!" cried Ford, "we are cut off from Sir Nigel."

"He is lost," gasped Terlake. "Come, let us spring for it." Thetwo youths jumped with all their strength to reach the departinggalley. Ford's feet reached the edge of the bulwarks, and hishand clutching a rope he swung himself on board. Terlake fellshort, crashed in among the oars, and bounded off into the sea.Alleyne, staggering to the side, was about to hurl himself afterhim, but Hordle John dragged him back by the girdle.

"You can scarce stand, lad, far less jump," said he. "See howthe blood rips from your bassinet."

"My place is by the flag," cried Alleyne, vainly struggling tobreak from the other's hold.

"Bide here, man. You would need wings ere you could reach SirNigel's side."

The vessels were indeed so far apart now that the Genoese coulduse the full sweep of their oars, and draw away rapidly from thecog.

"My God, but it is a noble fight!" shouted big John, clapping hishands. "They have cleared the poop, and they spring into thewaist. Well struck, my lord! Well struck, Aylward! See toBlack Simon, how he storms among the shipmen! But this Spade-beard is a gallant warrior. He rallies his men upon theforecastle. He hath slain an archer. Ha! my lord is upon him.Look to it, Alleyne! See to the whirl and glitter of it!"

"By heaven, Sir Nigel is down!" cried the squire.

"Up!" roared John. "It was but a feint. He bears him back. Hedrives him to the side. Ah, by Our Lady, his sword is throughhim! They cry for mercy. Down goes the red cross, and upsprings Simon with the scarlet roses!"

The death of the Genoese leader did indeed bring the resistanceto an end. Amid a thunder of cheering from cog and from galleysthe forked pennon fluttered upon the forecastle, and the galley,sweeping round, came slowly back, as the slaves who rowed itlearned the wishes of their new masters.

The two knights had come aboard the cog, and the grapplingshaving been thrown off, the three vessels now moved abreastthrough all the storm and rush of the fight Alleyne had beenaware of the voice of Goodwin Hawtayne, the master-shipman, withhis constant "Hale the bowline! Veer the sheet!" and strange itwas to him to see how swiftly the blood-stained sailors turnedfrom the strife to the ropes and back. Now the cog's head wasturned Francewards, and the shipman walked the deck, a peacefulmaster-mariner once more.

There is sad scath done to the cog, Sir Nigel," said he. "Hereis a hole in the side two ells across, the sail split through thecentre, and the wood as bare as a friar's poll. In good sooth, Iknow not what I shall say to Master Witherton when I see theItchen once more."

"By St. Paul! it would be a very sorry thing if we suffered youto be the worse of this day's work," said Sir Nigel. "You shalltake these galleys back with you, and Master Witherton may sellthem. Then from the moneys he shall take as much as may makegood the damage, and the rest he shall keep until our home-coming, when every man shall have his share. An image of silverfifteen inches high I have vowed to the Virgin, to be placed inher chapel within the Priory, for that she was pleased to allowme to come upon this Spade-beard, who seemed to me from what Ihave seen of him to be a very sprightly and valiant gentleman.But how fares it with you, Edricson?"

"It is nothing, my fair lord," said Alleyne, who had now loosenedhis bassinet, which was cracked across by the Norman's blow.Even as he spoke, however, his head swirled round, and he fell tothe deck with the blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

"He will come to anon," said the knight, stooping over him andpassing his fingers through his hair. "I have lost one veryvaliant and gentle squire this day. I can ill afford to loseanother. How many men have fallen?"

"I have pricked off the tally," said Aylward, who had come aboardwith his lord. "There are seven of the Winchester men, elevenseamen, your squire, young Master Terlake, and nine archers."

"And of the others?"

"They are all dead--save only the Norman knight who stands behindyou. What would you that we should do with him?"

"He must hang on his own yard," said Sir Nigel. "It was my vowand must be done."

The pirate leader had stood by the bulwarks, a cord round hisarms, and two stout archers on either side. At Sir Nigel's wordshe started violently, and his swarthy features blanched to alivid gray.

"How, Sir Knight?" he cried in broken English. "Que ditesvous?To hang, le mort du chien! To hang!"

"It is my vow," said Sir Nigel shortly. "From what I hear, youthought little enough of hanging others."

"Peasants, base roturiers," cried the other. "It is theirfitting death. Mais Le Seigneur d'Andelys, avec le sang des roisdans ses veins! C'est incroyable!"

Sir Nigel turned upon his heel, while two seamen cast a nooseover the pirate's neck. At the touch of the cord he snapped thebonds which bound him, dashed one of the archers to the deck, andseizing the other round the waist sprang with him into the sea.

"By my hilt, he is gone!" cried Aylward, rushing to the side."They have sunk together like a stone."

"I am right glad of it," answered Sir Nigel; "for though it wasagainst my vow to loose him, I deem that he has carried himselflike a very gentle and debonnaire cavalier."