All this time the five vessels had been drifting down the river together. Presently, when the conflict was hottest, the chief of the sailors made his way to Edmund.
"If we get up the sails we may be able to draw out from the galleys."
"Do so," Edmund said, "and at once, for we are hardly pressed; they are four to one against us."
The sailors at once sprang to the halliards, and soon the great sail rose on the mast. Almost instantly the Dragon began to glide away from the galleys. The Danes with ropes endeavoured to lash themselves to her sides, but these were severed as fast as thrown, and in two or three minutes the Dragon had drawn herself clear of them. The Danes betook themselves to their oars, but many of these had been broken between the vessels, and rowing their utmost they could only just keep up with the Dragon, for the wind was blowing freely. Fully half the oars of the Dragon were broken, but the rest were soon manned, and she then rapidly drew away from her pursuers.
"I am not going to run further," Edmund said. "Now that we have once shaken them off, let us turn and meet them again."
As the vessel's head was brought up into the wind the Danes ceased rowing. The fate which had befallen their two galleys at the commencement of the fight was still before them. They had lost great numbers of men in the attempt to board from the Saxon pikes and arrows, and their desire to renew the fight vanished when they saw that the Saxons were equally ready. Therefore, as the Dragon approached them, they sheered off on either side of her and rowed for the mouth of the Medway.
The Saxons did not pursue. They had lost eight men killed, and seventeen wounded by the Danish arrows, and were well content to be quit of their opponents, upon whom they had inflicted a severe blow, as each of the galleys sunk had contained fully a hundred and fifty men, and great numbers of the Danes on board the other ships had fallen.
They now left the Thames and sailed to Sandwich. The town had been shortly before burned by the Danes, but these had left, and some of the inhabitants had returned. Here the Dragon waited for a week, by the end of which time the traces of the conflict had been obliterated, and new oars made. Edmund found no difficulty in filling up the vacancies caused in the fight, as many of the young Saxons were burning to avenge the sufferings which the Danes had inflicted, and could have obtained several times the number he required had there been room for them. He was therefore enabled to pick out sturdy fellows accustomed to the sea. When the Dragon again set sail her head was laid to the northward, as Edmund intended to cruise off East Anglia, from whose shores fleets were constantly crossing and recrossing to Denmark.
They picked up several prizes at the mouths of the eastern rivers, scarcely having to strike a blow, so surprised were the Danes at the appearances of the great Saxon galley. Whenever the Danes surrendered without resistance Edmund gave them quarter and landed them in small boats on the shore; their ships, after being emptied of the booty they contained, were burned. When off Yarmouth, where they had captured four Danish vessels sailing out unsuspicious of danger, the wind veered round to the north-east and began to blow very strongly.
The long line of sandbanks off the coast broke somewhat the violence of the sea, and the Dragon rode all night to her anchors; but in the morning the wind continued to rise. The sea became more and more violent, and the anchors began to drag. Edmund and Egbert, after a consultation, agreed that their only chance of saving the vessel was to enter the river. The tide was running in, but the sea was so heavy on the bar of the river that the efforts of the crew at the oars barely sufficed to keep her on her course. At length, however, she made her way safely between the posts which marked the entrance, and rowing up until they passed a turn, and were sheltered from the force of the gale, they again anchored.