, that the sight of
no means to do great deeds made great deeds done. When his red galley
sighted Joppa, standing in for the purpose, all seemed over with the
doomed city. This, no doubt (since his mood was hot), urged him to one
of those impossible acts, 'incredible deeds of valour,' as Milo calls
them, for which his name lives, while those of many better kings are
forgotten.

The country about Joppa slopes sharply to the sea, and gives little or
no shelter for ships; but so quick is the slope that a galley may ride
under the very walls of the town and take in provision from the seaward
windows. On the landward side it is dangerously placed, seeing that the
stoop of the country runs from the mountains to it. The few outlying
forts, the stone bridge over the river, cannot be held against a
resolute foe. When King Richard's fleet drew near enough to see, it was
plain what had been done. The Saracens had carried the outworks; they
held the bridge. At leisure they had broached the walls and swarmed in.
The flag on the citadel still flew; battle or carnage was raging in the
streets all about it. Its fall was a matter of hours.

Now King Richard stood on the poop of his galley, watching all this. He
saw a man come running down the mole chased by half a dozen horsemen in
yellow, a priest by the look of him; you could see the gleam of his
tonsure as he plunged. For so he did, plunged into the sea and swam for
his life. The pursuers drew up on the verge and shot at him with their
long bows. They were of Saladin's bodyguard, fine marksmen who should
never have missed him. But the priest swam like a fish, and they did
miss him. King Richard himself hooked him out by the gown, and then
clipped him in his arms like a lover. 'Oh, brave priest! Oh, hardy
heart!' he cried, full of the man's bravery. 'Give him room there. Let
him cough up the salt. By my soul, barons, I wish that any draught of
wine may be so glorious sweet.'

The priest sat up and told his tale. The city was a shambles; every man,
woman, or child had been put to the sword. Only the citadel held out;
there was no time to lose. No time was lost; for King Richard, in his
tunic and breeches as he was, in his deck shoes, without a helm,
unmailed in any part, snatched up shield and axe. 'Who follows Anjou?'
he called out, then plunged into the sea. Des Barres immediately
followed him, then Gaston of Bearn (with a yell) and the Earl of
Leicester neck and neck; then the Bi