But ere that cheer died away the scene had very considerably changed, for the fleet of which the monk-pirate had spoken so contemptuously was bearing down before the wind on the French armament, as the hawk does upon the quarry.
CHAPTER XLVI
A SEA-FIGHT
WHILE Blanche of Castile and Eustace the Monk were fitting out the armament at Calais for completing the conquest of England, Hubert de Burgh, keeping watch from the castle of Dover, and in constant communication with the mariners of the Cinque Ports, was well informed of what was going on, and Hubert, being bold as a lion, resolved to risk everything in order to prevent the French force that had just embarked at Calais from setting foot in England.
“By the blood of Christ!” said he to the Bishop of Winchester, “if these people are allowed to come to England the kingdom is lost. Let us, therefore, go forth and encounter them with courage, for God is with us, and they are excommunicated.”
Now Hubert de Burgh had no fleet which appeared sufficiently formidable to encounter the French armament. However, he had about sixteen large ships, and twenty small vessels belonging to the Cinque Ports, his galleys being peaked with iron, and likely, therefore, to do terrible execution in the event of coming to a close conflict, with the wind in their favour. Moreover, the English were elated when they called to mind the great naval victory which the Earl of Salisbury had won over the French some years earlier at the mouth of the Seine; and in the seamanship of the mariners of the Cinque Ports, whose superiority over the sailors of France had been repeatedly proved, they had great and well-grounded confidence. It was, therefore, with something like the hope of a happy result, in spite of the odds against him, that Hubert sent for Luke, his chaplain, took the sacrament, and prepared to go on board his little fleet. Before doing so, however, he intrusted the castle of Dover to knights on whose fidelity he could depend, and charged them not on any account to surrender.
“I beseech you, by the blood of Christ!” said he earnestly and solemnly, “not to waver or yield to threats. If I happen to be made prisoner, allow me to be hanged rather than surrender this castle to the French, for it is the key of England.”
“We promise faithfully to defend it, or die in the attempt,” replied the knights; and Hubert de Burgh then went on board, with many crossbowmen and archers, and accompanied by Henry de Turville and Richard Siward, two gallant knights, as well as by Richard, one of King John’s illegitimate sons, who married Rohesia, heiress of Fulbert de Dover, and who on this day was destined to signalise at once his courage and his cruelty.
And now the mariners of the Cinque Ports—weatherbeaten men who had long fought with the winds, and the waves, and the French—having lifted their anchors and set their sails, put out to sea, and the ships went tilting over the waves, and proceeded boldly on their course, and steered as if bound for Calais. Suddenly, however, when near the French fleet, they altered their course, and, having gained the weather-gage, sailed, much to the surprise of Eustace the Monk, right among the French, and, driven by the wind, charged at the enemy’s ships with the iron beaks of their galleys, and sank several large French vessels with all on board.
This, however, was but the beginning of the battle, which speedily assumed a terrific aspect, and became sanguinary and stubborn, “for,” as Froissart remarks, “combats at sea are more destructive and obstinate than upon land, for it is not possible to retreat or fly, every one being under the necessity of abiding his fortune and exerting his prowess and valour.” Throwing out grapnels and iron hooks and chains, to be more certain of having their enemies in close fight, the English moored their ships to those of the French, and while the mariners of the Cinque Ports, with loud shouts of defiance, threw hot lime-dust into the air to blind their adversaries, which, blown by the wind, did its work well, the archers and crossbowmen made such terrible execution, that Eustace the Monk, seeing that all his calculations were baffled, stamped and roared with rage and vexation.