ened by the loss of their leader, the Normans had
given back and were now streaming over the bulwarks on to their own
galley, dropping a dozen at a time on to her deck. But the anchor still
held them in its crooked claw, and Sir Oliver with fifty men was hard
upon their heels. Now, too, the archers had room to draw their bows
once more, and great stones from the yard of the cog came thundering and
crashing among the flying rovers. Here and there they rushed with wild
screams and curses, diving under the sail, crouching behind booms,
huddling into corners like rabbits when the ferrets are upon them,
as helpless and as hopeless. They were stern days, and if the honest
soldier, too poor for a ransom, had no prospect of mercy upon the
battle-field, what ruth was there for sea robbers, the enemies of
humankind, taken in the very deed, with proofs of their crimes still
swinging upon their yard-arm.

But the fight had taken a new and a strange turn upon the other side.
Spade-beard and his men had given slowly back, hard pressed by Sir
Nigel, Aylward, Black Simon, and the poop-guard. Foot by foot the
Italian had retreated, his armor running blood at every joint, his
shield split, his crest shorn, his voice fallen away to a mere gasping
and croaking. Yet he faced his foemen with dauntless courage, dashing
in, springing back, sure-footed, steady-handed, with a point which
seemed to menace three at once. Beaten back on to the deck of his
own vessel, and closely followed by a dozen Englishmen, he disengaged
himself from them, ran swiftly down the deck, sprang back into the
cog once more, cut the rope which held the anchor, and was back in an
instant among his crossbow-men. At the same time the Genoese sailors
thrust with their oars against the side of the cog, and a rapidly
widening rift appeared between the two vessels.

"By St. George!" cried Ford, "we are cut off from Sir Nigel."

"He is lost," gasped Terlake. "Come, let us spring for it." The two
youths jumped with all their strength to reach the departing galley.
Ford's feet reached the edge of the bulwarks, and his hand clutching a
rope he swung himself on board. Terlake fell short, crashed in among the
oars, and bounded off into the sea. Alleyne, staggering to the side, was
about to hurl himself after him, but Hordle John dragged him back by the
girdle.

"You can scarce stand, lad, far less jump," said he. "See how the blood
rips from your bassinet."

"My place is by t