Up to the masthead of The Sword shot the White Horse flag of the Saxons, and the good ship sprang backward with a great rebound, helped quickly by the rowers.
"We have stricken her!" shouted Ulric. "The sea poureth into her. Back! Strike not again! It is enough!"
As the lightning from a clear sky, so was the deathblow given to the pride and strength of the quinquereme. As a warrior stabbed to the heart was she as she leaned over, and as the fatal blue tide poured in through the deep wound in her side. There was no stanching it. There was no hope. They who had purposed to slay all Saxons were themselves to die. On the decks and at the bulwarks, amazed, confounded, the Roman soldiers and sailors stood and gazed in silence at their utterly mysterious destroyer. Here was a riddle of the fates and furies which none might read. They knew not even the flag of this strange pirate keel. They only knew that they were going down.
On the stern of the quinquereme stood three men who were not in armor. They were bearded men and they wore turbans, and they spoke to each other in another tongue than the Latin.
"We may escape," one of them said. "The god of Israel hath heard. We are not to be crucified. Let us plunge in and go to yonder ship from Tarshish. Ben Ezra, what sayest thou?"
"Follow me," said Ben Ezra, "ere this accursed quinquereme goeth down bearing us with it. On this side, while the Romans are gazing. Take each two short oars. We have somewhat to bear with us. Get beyond a spear cast as soon as we may."
He was a short man, and old, but his eyes were bright and he seemed a brave one. His two companions were youths. Into the water they slipped silently, as he had said, and they swam well, partly upheld by the pieces of wood.
The Sword was not receding, but her rowers were pulling easily as Wulf the Skater steered her around and past the quinquereme. No more spears were thrown nor did any arrows fly, but there was a sounding of war horns.
Brave must have been the trumpeter of the legionaries, for he lifted his trumpet and answered defiantly, even while the water rushed in through the fatal gap in the wooden wall of his sinking vessel.
"We shall have no prisoners," said Knud the Bear. "I would I knew if they had taken any. What if captured Saxons were on board of her?"