Hugh became serious.
"They are sent by my enemy you wot of—he who sent the fellow with the knife and the greenwood men. This is an ill day for us, Ralph, and if we are to win forth from it we must fight as becomes Englishmen."
Silently, Ralph clambered to his feet and stood swaying against the rail.
"I will seek out my bow and mail," he said. "My muscles seem flabby as a babe's, Messer Hugh, but I will do what I may."
In the waist of the cog Messer Nicholas dealt out a sparse supply of bows, hangers and spears to the trembling crew. But Hugh realised that the shipmen were so chicken-hearted the weapons were of little use to them. Messer Nicholas, himself, shuddered as he fingered the blade he had allotted to his own portion.
"What now, merry men all," Hugh addressed them cheerily. "Take heart o' grace! Bethink you, we are in a sad pickle, but an we do not make it easier, 'tis like to be worse. The Saracens will see to it none gets back to Hastings port to tell of a lost cargo. There is but one safe path, wot you all, and that is to hurl the villains into the sea when they would come aboard."
"Brave words, lordling," snarled Messer Nicholas, "but you are clad in steel. We have no hauberks to protect us against arbalests and arrows. What shall we do?"
"Fear naught," answered Hugh good-temperedly. "I have by me a longbowman can stand off all the archers in Paynimry. What ho, Ralph?"
The giant descended the poop ladder with compressed lips and a very white face. He lurched a little in his gait, but he tried hard to smile in reply.
"Why, Messer Hugh," he said, "an I ever get the hang of the crooked lifts of this cursed sea, I shall contrive somewhat with my bow. But this illness which hath gripped me is no friend of the belly. And——"