land, and attempted in the face of overwhelming
odds to force their way into the town; but they were driven back, and
Wentworth, feeling that further resistance would lead to useless
slaughter, demanded a parley, and after a short discussion accepted
the terms of surrender offered by Guise. The garrison and the
inhabitants of Calais, amounting in all, men, women, and children, to
5000 souls, were permitted to retire to England with their lives, and
nothing more. Wentworth and fifty others {p.302} were to remain
prisoners; the town, with all that it contained, was to be given up to
the conquerors.

On these conditions the English laid down their arms and the French
troops entered. The spoil was enormous, and the plunder of St. Quentin
was not unjustly revenged; jewels, plate, and money were deposited on
the altars of the churches, and the inhabitants, carrying with them
the clothes which they wore, were sent as homeless beggars in the
ensuing week across the Channel.

Then only, when it was too late, the queen roused herself. As soon as
Calais had definitely fallen, all the English counties were called on
by proclamation to contribute their musters. Then all was haste,
eagerness, impetuosity; those who had money were to provide for those
who had none, till "order could be taken."

On the 7th of January, the vice-admiral, Sir William Woodhouse, was
directed to go instantly to sea, pressing everything that would float,
and promising indemnity to the owners in the queen's name. Thirty
thousand men were rapidly on their way to the coast; the weather had
all along been clear and frosty, with calms and light east winds, and
the sea off Dover was swiftly covered with a miscellaneous crowd of
vessels. On the 10th came the queen's command for the army to cross to
Dunkirk, join the Duke of Savoy, and save Guisnes.

But the opportunity which had been long offered, and long neglected,
was now altogether gone; the ships were ready, troops came, and arms
came, but a change of weather came also, and westerly gales and
storms. On the night of the 10th a gale blew up from the south-west
which raged for four days: such vessels as could face the sea, slipped
their moorings, and made their way into the Thames with loss of spars
and rigging; the hulls of the rest strewed Dover beach with wrecks, or
were swallowed in the quicksands of the Goodwin.

The effect of this last misfortune on the queen was to produce utter
prostration. Storms