nd hard. But what we do we must do
quickly, for the darkness falls apace."

Their repulse had been hailed by wild yells of delight from the
Frenchmen, who danced with joy and waved their weapons madly over their
heads. But before their rejoicings had finished they saw the little boat
creeping out once more from the shadow of the Marie Rose, a great wooden
screen in her bows to protect her from the arrows. Without a pause she
came straight and fast for her enemy. The wounded archer had been put on
board, and Aylward would have had his place had Nigel been able to see
him upon the deck. The third archer, Hal Masters, had sprung in, and
one of the seamen, Wat Finnis of Hythe. With their hearts hardened to
conquer or to die, the five ran alongside the Frenchman and sprang upon
her deck. At the same instant a great iron weight crashed through the
bottom of their skiff, and their feet had hardly left her before she was
gone. There was no hope and no escape save victory.

The crossbowman stood under the mast, his terrible weapon at his
shoulder, the steel string stretched taut, the heavy bolt shining upon
the nut. One life at least he would claim out of this little band. Just
for one instant too long did he dwell upon his aim, shifting from the
seaman to Cock Badding, whose formidable appearance showed him to be the
better prize. In that second of time Hal Masters' string twanged and his
long arrow sped through the arbalister's throat. He dropped on the deck,
with blood and curses pouring from his mouth.

A moment later Nigel's sword and Badding's hammer had each claimed a
victim and driven back the rush of assailants. The five were safe upon
the deck, but it was hard for them to keep a footing there. The French
seamen, Bretons and Normans, were stout, powerful fellows, armed with
axes and swords, fierce fighters and brave men. They swarmed round
the little band, attacking them from all sides. Black Simon felled the
black-bearded French Captain, and at the same instant was cut over the
head and lay with his scalp open upon the deck. The seaman Wat of Hythe
was killed by a crashing blow from an ax. Nigel was struck down, but
was up again like a flash, and drove his sword through the man who had
felled him.

But Badding, Masters the archer and he had been hustled back to the
bulwark and were barely holding their own from minute to minute against
the fierce crowd who assailed them, when an arrow coming apparently from
the sea