With the Black Prince Read online

  CHAPTER VI.

  THE SEA FIGHT.

  "Thou art no seaman!" laughed the prince. "I think thou wouldst learn tolove the sea, as do all true English hearts. Go thou on board forthwith.The admiral hath given thee one Piers Fleming for thy shipmaster."

  Profoundly respectful was the answer of Richard Neville, for his friendwas also his prince and his commander; he said, "'Tis but a briefpassage, and there will be no fighting."

  "Count not on that," replied the prince. "We are warned of many Frenchrovers, from Calais and elsewhere, on the watch for stragglers. Wordcometh that the king is safely at La Hogue, in Normandy, and not, assome think, in Guienne. There will soon be enough of fighting on land,but watch thou for a chance to gain honor on the sea. We must win ourspurs before we return to Merry England."

  The two young men, neither of them yet eighteen, were standing on theheight above Portsmouth, gazing down upon the harbor and out upon thesea. In all directions there were swarms of vessels of all sizes,sailing or at anchor; for it was said that King Edward the Third hadgathered over a thousand ships to convey his army across the Channel forhis quarrel with Philip of France.

  It was the largest English fleet yet assembled, and the army going onboard was also the best with which any English king had ever put to sea.It consisted of picked men only. Of these, four thousand weremen-at-arms, six thousand were Irish, twelve thousand were Welsh; butthe most carefully trained and disciplined part of the force consistedof ten thousand bowmen. During a whole year had Edward and his son andhis generals toiled to select and prepare the men and the weapons withwhich they were to meet the highly famed chivalry of the Continent. Anarmy selected from a nation of perhaps four millions of people was tocontend with an army collected from France with her twenty millions, andfrom such allies of hers as Germany and Bohemia, re-enforced by largenumbers of paid mercenaries. Among these latter were the crossbowmen ofGenoa sold to Philip by the masters of that Italian oligarchy. Edward'sadventure had a seeming of great rashness, for already it was reportedthat the French king had mustered a hundred thousand men. Full many agallant cavalier in armor of proof may well have wondered to hear,moreover, that Edward the Third, accounted the foremost general of histime, proposed to meet superior numbers of the best lances of Europewith lightly armored men on foot. They knew not yet of the new era thatwas dawning upon the science of war. Edward and his bowmen were to teachthe world more than one new lesson before that memorable campaign wasover. Before this, he had shown what deeds might be wrought upon the seaby ships prepared and manned and led by himself. He had so crippled thenaval power of his enemies that there was now no hostile fleet strongenough to prevent his present undertaking, although Philip had managedto send out some scores of cruisers to do whatever harm they could.

  The prince was clad in a full suit of the plain black armor from whichhis popular name had been given him. His visor was up, and his resolute,intelligent face wore a dignity beyond his years.

  The stature of the young hero of England was nearly that of full-grownmanhood; and if Richard was not quite so tall, he was both older andstronger than when he had faced the Club of Devon in the village streetof Wartmont.

  A brilliant company of men-at-arms stood around them, many of whom werefamous knights and mighty barons. Richard was now receiving his finalinstructions, and in a few minutes more he bowed low and departed.

  Halfway down the hill he was awaited by a party of stalwart-lookingmen, and to one of these he said:

  "Haste thee now, Guy the Bow! Let us have the sails up and get out ofthe harbor. Almost the entire army is already on board."

  "Aye, my lord," responded the bowman; "I have been all over our ship.The sailors are good men and true; but I like not the captain, and weshall be crowded like sheep in a pen."

  "'Tis but for a day," said Richard, "and the weather is good. We arewarned of foes by the way."

  "We shall be ready for them," said Guy; then he added, "A page from myLord the Earl of Warwick brought this."

  It was a letter, and quickly it came open.

  "It is from my mother! The saints be with her!" exclaimed Richard. "Sheis well. I will read it fully after we are on board. Thanks to the goodearl."

  Down the hill they went together, and on to a long pier, at the outerend of which was moored a two-masted vessel apparently of about fourhundred tons' burden--a large vessel for those days--very high at bowand stern, but low amidships, as if she were planned to carry a kind ofwooden fort at each end.

  She was ready to cast off as soon as the young commander came on board;and he was greeted by loud cheers from her crowded decks.

  "She is thronged to the full," said Richard.

  The sailing-master stood before him. He was a square-built man, ofmiddle age, with a red face and small, greenish-gray eyes. His beard andhair were closely cropped and stiff; he wore a steel body-coat andheadpiece, but his feet were bare. An unpleasant man to look upon wasPiers Fleming; and behind him stood one not more than half as old, butof the same pattern, so like he needed not to say that he was themaster's son, as well as mate of the Golden Horn.

  "The wind is fair, sir," said Fleming. "We go out with the tide, but afog is coming up the Channel."

  "Cast off," said Richard. "Yonder on the height is the prince with hislords and gentlemen, watching the going."

  "Aye, aye!" responded Fleming. "He shall see the Golden Horn go out."

  She cleared the harbor in gallant style, with her sails full spread,while Richard busied himself among his men. The crew was thirty strong,mostly Englishmen.

  "I have but twenty men-at-arms," said Richard to himself at the end ofhis inspection, "but there are two hundred and more of bowmen, and overa hundred Irish pikemen, besides the Welshmen. What bones those Irishare made with! I will serve out axes among them without delay. Finechopping should be done by such brawny axemen as they."

  "Richard Neville," whispered an eager voice at his elbow, "I pray theehearken. One of the sailors, a Londoner, understandeth Flemish. He hathheard the captain and his son have speech with one on the pier. There istreason afoot, my Lord. Watch thou, and I will pass the word among themen."

  "Tell all," said Richard, with a hot flush on his face; but there waslittle enough to tell. It could be but a warning, a cause for suspicionand for care.

  "Guy the Bow," said Richard, at the end of their brief talk, "seek amongthe sailors for a true Englishman fit to take the helm if I smite offthe head of this Piers Fleming. Let thy man keep near me if a foeappeareth."

  Yet stronger blew the south wind, and, as Piers had said, with it came athick, bluish mist that hid the ships from one another and made itimpossible for any landsman on board of them to more than guess in whatdirection he might be going. It was therefore not thought of by Richardas of any importance that the Golden Horn was speeding full before thewind. She was going northerly, instead of taking a tack toward La Hogue.Right with her blew the mist, and hour after hour went by. Severaltimes hoarse hails were heard and answered, but all were in the heartyvoices of loyal Englishmen, and Richard said to one of his men-at-arms:

  "We are with the fleet, and all is well."

  Most of them had put aside their armor, as being too heavy to wearneedlessly during so sultry a day; for it was the 2d of July, 1346, andthe summer was a warm one; the bowmen and pikemen also had taken offtheir heavy buff coats and laid aside their arms.

  But among the groups passed some of Richard's Longwood archers, talkinglow; and all the while, without attracting attention, sheaves of arrows,extra spears, with poleaxes and battle-axes and shields, were beinghanded up from the store of weapons in the hold.

  Piers Fleming was at the helm, and near him stood his son. There weregrim smiles on their faces while they glanced up at the rigging and outinto the mist, and noted the compass and the direction of the wind.

  "Son Hans," at last muttered the old man, "it can not be long now. Someof the Calais craft are sure to be hereabout. We will lay this tubful ofEnglish pirates a
longside right speedily, if so be it is a large ship ofgood strength."

  "They will be caught napping," growled Hans. "'Twill be a fine prize,for the hold is packed to tightness."

  "Well bloweth the wind," said Piers, "and the Golden Horn hath now nocompany."

  At the forward end of the low waist of the ship stood Richard among hismen.

  "Ye do know well," he said, "and all must know, that they would show noquarter. Every man fighteth for his life, for who is taken goethoverboard, dead or alive."

  "Aye," responded Ben o' Coventry; "'tis a cutthroat business. I thinkthere would be small room for any Frenchman on the Golden Horn, if oneshould come aboard."

  "Room enough in the sea," said the red-haired O'Rourke, who was captainof the Irish; and he turned then to talk to his gigantic kerns in theirown tongue. So did a man named David Griffith talk to a throng ofbroad-shouldered Welshmen who were also on board, armed with shortswords, daggers, and spears or darts. Of the latter several bundles nowlay amidships.

  Back toward the stern strode Richard slowly, and after him, as if theywere drifting about without special intention, strolled threerugged-looking seamen from the old port of London.

  The waves ran not too high for a gay summer cruise, and the Golden Hornrode them steadily. She was a fast sailer, for all her breadth of beam.Suddenly her course was changed, and her sails swung in a little; for acommand from Captain Fleming sent men to haul on the sheets. Just then along-drawn vibrating whistle had been heard, and it sounded thrice, fromthe very direction the ship was taking.

  Richard stood now on the high after-deck, and a wave of his hand couldbe seen by his men below. There was little apparent stir among them, butbuff coats were quickly donned, bows were strung, sheaves of arrows werecut open and distributed, while the men-at-arms made ready, and theIrish made sure of their grip upon pikes and axes.

  "We will speak that ship, my Lord Neville," said Fleming, veryrespectfully. "I have orders to report all craft we meet at sea."

  "Aye, speak to her," said Richard; but he loosened his sword in itssheath, and he knew that Guy the Bow had an arrow on the string.

  Loudly came a hail from out of the fog; the speaker was a Frenchman, andhardly had his utterance ceased before it was followed by a tumult offierce, triumphant cheering on board the strange vessel.

  Piers Fleming sent back a hoarse reply, speaking French; and then heturned to Richard.

  "She cometh, my lord!" he exclaimed, as if much affrighted. "'Tis one ofKing Philip's great cruisers. I have bidden them that we surrender."

  He was steering straight for the huge vessel which now swept towardthem, looking larger through the cloud of vapor; but ere he made replyRichard's sword was drawn.

  "Thou art a traitor!" he shouted. "Jack of London, take thou the helm!"

  "Never!" cried Fleming. "Resistance were madness! We are almostalongside of her. Ho, Monsieur de Gaines! We surrender!"

  Richard's sword flashed like lightning, but even before it fell had spedthe arrow of Guy the Bow. The strong hands of the ready English marinercaught the tiller as the traitorous sailing-master fell gasping to thedeck. His son Hans had been standing hard by him, pike in hand. He wastaken by surprise for a moment, but he made a quick thrust at Richard.There had been deadly peril in that thrust, but that a poleaxe in thehand of an Irishman came down and cleft the traitor to the eyes.

  The great French ship came on majestically, but Richard had givencareful orders beforehand, and the Golden Horn did not avoid closingwith her.

  "Let them board us," he had said, and Ben o' Coventry had replied tohim: "Aye, my Lord 'o Wartmont, and we will slay as many as we may uponour own decks before we finish upon theirs."

  So little thought had the English but that they should win, no matterwho came.

  Louder and louder now arose the exulting yells and shouts from theswarms of armed men surging to and fro upon the fore and after forts andin the waist of La Belle Calaise, as her grapnels were thrown out tofasten upon the Golden Horn. She was much the taller and larger vessel,and even her tops and rigging were full of men.

  Alas for these! Had they been so many squirrels in the trees ofLongwood, they could not have dropped faster as the English archersplied their deadly bows. Of the latter, too, some were in the cupliketops of the Golden Horn, and their shafts were seeking marks among theFrench knights and men-at-arms. It was a fearful moment, for theboarders were ready as the two ships crashed against each other.

  "Steady, men! Stand fast!" shouted Richard. "Let them come on, but slaythem as they come! Take the knights first; aim at the armholes. Waste noshaft. St. George for merry England! For the king and for the prince!"

  "For the king and for Richard of Wartmont!" shouted Ben o' Coventry.

  Twang went his bow as he spoke, and a tall knight in full armor pitchedheavily forward upon the deck of the Golden Horn, shouting "St. Denis!"as he fell. His sword had been lifted, and the gray goose shaft hadtaken him in the armpit. He would strike no more.

  The Frenchmen were brave enough, and they did not seem to be dismayedeven by the dire carnage which was thinning them out so rapidly. Theworst thing against them was that all this was so entirely unexpected.They had counted upon taking the English ship by surprise, aided by thetreachery of Piers Fleming and his son. The Golden Horn had been steeredby them many a long mile out of her proper course, and the same trickmay have been played upon others of King Edward's transports; for he hadbeen compelled to employ sailors of all the nationalities along theChannel and the North Sea, excepting a few that favored the Frenchmen.

  The fighting force on La Belle Calaise was not only double the number ofthat on the Golden Horn, but it contained five times as manymen-at-arms. There the advantage ended, however; for the rest of itconsisted of a motley mob of all sorts, woefully inferior in arms,discipline, and even in bodily strength to the chosen fighters who werecommanded by Richard of Wartmont.

  For a few minutes he had kept his post on the high deck at the stern,that he might better see how the fight was going. Then, however, withhis score of men in full armor, he went down in the waist, steppingforward to meet the onset of the French knights who dashed in to avengetheir fallen leader. He had not been their only commander, evidently,for now in their front there stood a knight whose splendid arms andjeweled crest marked him as a noble of high rank.

  "God and St. Denis!" he shouted. "Down with the dogs of England!"

  "St. George and King Edward! I am Richard Neville of Wartmont. Who artthou?"

  Their swords were crossing as the Frenchman responded, "Antoine, Countde Renly! Down with thee, thou of Wartmont! I will give an account ofthee to thy boy Black Prince."

  "I am another boy, as he is," was the reply from the young lord; for hisantagonist was certainly not taller than himself, and they were notbadly matched.

  All around them the fierce _melee_ went on. Arrows whizzed; the spearsof the Welshmen flew; there was hard hammering of sword and axe on helmand shield. One fact came out which men of knightly degree mightotherwise have doubted. It was seen that a strong Irishman, with onlyhis buff coat for armor or for weight, could swing a weapon more freelyand with better effect than could a brave knight a head shorter, oflighter bones, weighed down by armor of proof and a steel-faced shield.Fierce was the wild Irish war-cry with which these brawny men of Ulsterand Connaught rushed forward, and their swinging blows were as thestroke of death. Shields were dashed aside, helmets and mail were cloventhrough. Slain they were, a number of them; but they had not fallenuselessly--there were not now so many Frenchmen in full armor.

  Richard and De Renly were skilled swordsmen, and for a time neither ofthem seemed able to gain any advantage. The Frenchman was a knight ofrenown, however, and it angered him to be checked by a mere youngster, aboy, a squire only, from the household of the Black Prince. He lost histemper, and pushed forward rashly, forgetting that he was not now uponfirm land. The wind still blew, and the waves were lifting the ships,grinding them one against the other wit
h shocks that were staggering.There was blood upon the deck at the spot where the mailed foot of thecount was pressed. He slipped as he struck, and the sword of the Englishboy smote hard upon his crest.

  A rush, another slip, another blow, and De Renly lay upon the deck, withthe point of Richard's blade at the bars of his helmet.

  "Yield thee, De Renly!" he shouted, "rescue or no rescue. Yield, or thoudiest!"

  "Yield thee, De Renly!" he shouted.]

  "I yield!" came hoarsely back; "but myself only, not my ship."

  "Yield thee!" said Richard, taking away his sword. "We will care forthy boat."

  Loudly laughed the O'Rourke at Neville's triumph; and he smote down aman-at-arms right across the fallen De Renly.

  "Hout, my Lord of Wartmont!" he shouted. "Thou art a good sword! On,Ulster and Connaught! Ireland forever! Hew them down, ye men of thefens! We have a doughty captain!"

  Even in that boast it was shown that some of Richard's men--not those ofLongwood--had doubted him on account of his youth, in spite of the taleof his victory over Clod the Club.

  The rush of the French boarders was checked, but not repelled, so manythey were and so desperate; but they met now another force. A cunningman was Ben o' Coventry, and fit to be a captain; for he had drawn awaya number of Welsh and Irish and some bowmen, for whom there was no roomin the waist of the ship. He led them to the prow, which was almost bareof men, save a few archers. It had swung away at first, but now it washugging closely the high forecastle of La Belle Calaise.

  "Forward, my men!" he shouted. "It is our turn to board! Slay as ye go!"

  They rushed against a cluster of mere sailor-men, half armed, who hadbeen posted there to keep them out of the way. They were hardlysoldiers, although they were fierce enough; and they were mere cattlebefore the rush of Ben o' Coventry and his mighty followers. TheWelshmen spared none of them; and soon the French in the deep waist ofLa Belle Calaise, pressing forward to reinforce their half-defeatedboarders, were suddenly startled by a deadly shower of darts and arrowsthat fell upon them from their own forecastle. Then, as they turned indismay, they shouted to their comrades upon the Golden Horn:

  "Back! back! lest our own ship be lost. The English have boarded us!"

  There was a moment of hesitation; and so at that critical moment no helpcame to the remaining Frenchmen in the waist of the Golden Horn. Theywere even outnumbered, since all the archers in the wooden forts foreand aft, twanging their deadly bows almost in safety, counted againstthe bewildered boarders. No more knights came down from La BelleCalaise. The common men were falling like corn before the reaper.

  "On!" shouted Richard. "It is our fight now! Short work is good work!"

  The O'Rourke yelled something in the old Erse tongue, and his giantsfollowed him as he fought his way to the side of Richard Neville; butDavid Griffith summoned his remaining Welshmen, and was followed also bytwo score of Kentish bowmen, as he hastened forward to join Ben o'Coventry and his daring fellows on the forecastle of La Belle Calaise.It was time, for there were good French knights yet left to lead in adesperate attempt to dislodge them. It was, however, as if the deck orroof of that wooden fort, made with bulwarks and barricades to protectit against all enemies of France, had been just as well prepared to beheld by an English garrison. Moreover, all manner of weapons had beenput there, ready for use; and among these were pikes and lances withwhich the Welshmen could thrust at the men who tried to climb theladders from the waist, while the archers shot for dear life,unerringly.

  "My Lord Beaumont," shouted one of the French men-at-arms, "all of ourboarders on the English ship are down or taken. Not one is left. Herecome the Neville and his tigers. God and St. Denis! We are lost!"

  "Courage!" returned Beaumont. "Fight on; we shall overcome them yet!"

  But a heavy mace, hurled by a big Cornishman on the forecastle, at thatmoment smote him on the helm. He fell stunned, while his dismayedcomrades shrank back from the storm of English arrows and from the madrush of Richard and his men-at-arms and the O'Rourke and his Irishaxemen.

  The French were actually beaten in detail, their greater numbers at notime doing them any good.

  In each part of the fight they had had fewer men at the front, and thefew that now remained fit to fight seemed to be in a manner surrounded.

  "Quarter, if thou wilt surrender!" cried Richard to a knight with closedvisor, with whom he was crossing swords.

  "Quarter!" came faintly back, "Surrender!" and then he sank upon oneknee, for he was wounded by an arrow in the thigh.

  "All good knights yield themselves to me!" again shouted Richard inFrench. "They who hold out are lost!"

  More than one of them still fought on in a kind of despair, but otherslaid down their swords at the feet of Richard. As for any other of thedefenders of La Belle Calaise, it was sad to seek them; for the GoldenHorn had no man left on board of her save Jack of London at the helm,and the English pikes were everywhere plying mercilessly.

  "Leave not one!" shouted the O'Rourke hoarsely to his kerns. "Not one ofus had they spared if we had been taken. Let Lord Wartmont care for hisgentlemen. They will all pay ransom."

  So quickly all was over; and all that was left of the force which thatmorning had crowded the deck under the brave Monsieur de Gaines wasless than half of his brave gentlemen, hardly one of them without awound.

  The Sieur de Beaumont had now recovered his senses; but as he arose andlooked around him, he exclaimed:

  "Lord Richard of Wartmont, I would thou wouldst show me the mercy tothrow me into the sea. How shall I face my king after such a disgrace asthis!"

  "'Twas not thy fault, brave sir," said Richard courteously. "It is thefortune of war. Say to thy king from me, that thy ship was lost when theComte de Gaines tumbled so many of his force into the Golden Horn. Thoumayest say that he knew not how ready were we to meet him."

  "The traitorous Fleming----" began the count, but Richard interruptedhim.

  "Not traitor to thee," he said. "He is dead indeed; and his trap caughtnot us, but thee and thy commander. How art thou now, Sieur de Renly? Ithank thee for slipping well, else thy good sword had done thee betterservice."

  Like a true gentleman, the brave youth spoke kindly to them all, andtheir hurts were cared for. The several ransoms for each knight wereagreed upon; but they had now no further need for armor, and they weresoon appareled only in clothing of wool and linen, or silk and leather,as the case might be.

  As for the ships, they had sustained small injury in the fight. Nowthat it was over, the grapplings were cast off, and each rode the waveson its own account. It was hard to provide skilled crews for both, but ashift was made by dividing the seamen, and by such selections as couldbe had from among the soldiery. Jack of London was made the sailingmaster of the Golden Horn, and a seafaring man from Hull was in likemanner put in charge of La Belle Calaise.

  There was now no crowding of men upon either ship; but there was muchcare to be given to so many scores of wounded.

  The fog had cleared away, and the Golden Horn, with her prize, couldmake a pretty straight course for La Hogue, thanks to a change in thewind.

  "Art thou hurt at all?" asked Guy the Bow, when he next met his youngcommander.

  "Nay," said Richard, "unless bruises and a sore head may count forhurts. But we have lost a third part of our force, killed or wounded."

  "Well that we lost not all, and our own lives," said Guy. "'Twas closework for a while. Glad am I that our Lady of Wartmont is to hear no badnews."

  "Aye," said Richard; "and now I will tell thee, thou true man, when Iwrite to her I will bear thee witness that to thee and Ben o' Coventryis it due that she hath not lost her son."

  "I would like her to think well of me," said Guy, smiling with pleasure;"but I pray thee speak well to the prince of the O'Rourke and hislong-legged kerns, and of David Griffith. They deserve well of theking."

  "Trust me for that," said Richard. "And now, ere the dark hour, I mustread my mother's letter. Truth to tell, I
could not so much as look atit while I was watching that traitor Fleming, and preparing for what Ithought might come. I have already thanked all the men and visited myprisoners. Brave ransom will some of them pay."

  "And the prize money for us all," added Guy, with a chuckle. "We may berich when we return from France."

  So he went forward, and Richard sat down to his letter, to read the goodwords his mother sent him, and to dream of Wartmont and of Longwood, andof the old days before the war.

  Then there was sleeping, save for those who could not sleep for theirhurts or their misfortunes. It was well on in the forenoon of thefollowing day before the Golden Horn and her captive companion sailedgayly in among the forest of masts that had gathered at La Hogue.

  Only a short hour later the young Lord of Wartmont, with some of hischosen followers and those of his prisoners that were highest in rank,stood in an open space among the camps of King Edward's army.

  The king himself was there, and with him were earls and knights andcaptains not a few. By his side stood the brave Black Prince; but it wasto the king that Richard and those who were with him bent the knee,while the young man made his report of the taking of La Belle Calaise.

  He was modest enough; but the bright eyes of the prince kindled finelyas he heard it, and he said in a low voice to his father:

  "Did I not tell thee I was right to intrust a ship to him?"

  "The boy did well," said the king dryly, for he was a man hard toplease. "Thou Richard of Wartmont, honor to thee and thy merry men all!Thou and the prince are to win spurs of knighthood, side by side, ere wesail again for England. Sir Geoffrey of Harcourt will bid thee where togo."

  Richard bent low, and rose to his feet. Sir Geoffrey stepped forward tospeak to the Sieur de Renly and the other captured knights. The archersand men-at-arms of Richard's command stood still where they were,waiting for orders; but the Black Prince beckoned Richard aside to getfrom him the full particulars of a fray so gallantly fought and won.

  "I envy thee," he said, "thy hand-to-hand close with De Renly. Thou hastfine war fortune with thee; and the king is ever better pleased than hewill tell."

  It must have been so, for at that moment King Edward was turning to anoble-looking knight who stood near him:

  "Cousin John Beauchamp of Warwick," he said, "thou mayest be proud ofthy young kinsman. Those of thy blood are apt to make good captains."

  "Thanks, sire," responded the Earl of Warwick, flushing with pride. "Itrust there may never fail thee plenty of stout Beauchamps and Nevillesto stand in the front rank of the gallant men of England. But I praythee, mark how the boy handled his archers and his Irishmen----"

  "And how he watched the traitors and trapped the treason," laughed agray-bearded warrior at his side. "He hath his wits about him."

  "Yea, Norfolk," said the king with a gloom upon his face; "the men whoare to defend England and defeat her enemies must watch against treasonby night and by day. 'Twas a Fleming that set the trap for the GoldenHorn; and the men who are to march with us against Philip of Valois areall from our own islands. Not a man below a man-at-arms can even speakFrench."

  So the king's wisdom spoke for itself, while Sir Geoffrey of Harcourtand the prince sent Richard Neville and his brave men to the camp wherethey were to pass the night; for the whole army was to march away nextmorning.