"I like it not," replied the first archer. "There's black devilment afoot."
"Thou art ever looking for trouble, Hal. Didst ever——"
"Nay, methinks he's right," interrupted Will Lightfoot. "Hearken!"
Leaning over the edge of the parapet the archers strove to ascertain the meaning of a subdued splashing that every moment grew louder.
"Oars, comrades, oars! And not a score not two score, either. The water's alive with them!"
And now through the mist loomed scores of great indistinct shapes that only too soon resolved themselves into the outlines of long galleys, their size magnified by the thick veil of vapour. Before the astonished archers could realise their danger the huge craft ran alongside the quay or beached themselves with a grinding crunch on the gravel of the foreshore abreast the Water Gate, and from them leaped hordes of armed men, shouting and giving orders in half the tongues of Southern Europe.
The surprise was complete. The Water Gate was rushed ere the massive gates could be closed, and the foe, with the quickness of martial experience, wedged the grooves of the double portcullis to prevent the lowering of the heavy iron slides. Into the town they poured, slaying all who crossed their path, and before the startled inhabitants, most of whom were still at Mass, could grasp the situation, close upon five thousand French and Genoese soldiers had gained possession of the greater part of the town.
To add to the tumult, the bell over the watchtower began a dismal tocsin, and continued till a party of soldiers, climbing to the summit, hurled the devoted bellman crashing down upon the stones beneath. But other bells took up the warning note, till the Bar Gate, at the northern end of Southampton, gave a more timely alarm to the dwellers about the upper part of the town.
In the meantime the archers of St. Barbara's Tower, lashed into activity by the orders and example of Dick Wyatt, had closed, barred, and bolted the great oaken door, and hastily arming themselves, ascended the tower, where they crouched, arrow on string, behind the low, battlemented parapet.
"Methinks 'tis all up with Southampton," exclaimed the grizzled warrior. "But lie close, and do not loose string till they find us out."