CHAPTER XVI. HOW THE YELLOW COG FOUGHT THE TWO ROVER GALLEYS.

,whichcreptalongoneitherside,withaslow,measuredswingoftheirgreatoars,thewaterswirlingandfoamingundertheirsharpstems. “Theystillholdaloof,”criedHawtayne. “Thendownwithtwomore,”shoutedtheirleader.“Thatwilldo.Mafoi!buttheycometoourlurelikechickstothefowler.Toyourarms,men!Thepennonbehindme,andthesquiresroundthepennon.Standfastwiththeanchorsinthewaist,andbereadyforacast.Nowblowoutthetrumpets,andmayGod'sbenisonbewiththehonestmen!” Ashespokearoarofvoicesandarollofdrumscamefromeithergalley,andthewaterwaslashedintospraybythehurriedbeatofahundredoars.Downtheyswooped,oneontheright,oneontheleft,thesidesandshroudsblackwithmenandbristlingwithweapons.Inheavyclusterstheyhungupontheforecastleallreadyforaspring—faceswhite,facesbrown,facesyellow,andfacesblack,fairNorsemen,swarthyItalians,fierceroversfromtheLevant,andfieryMoorsfromtheBarbaryStates,ofallhuesandcountries,andmarkedsolelybythecommonstampofawild-beastferocity.Raspinguponeitherside,withoarstrailingtosavethemfromsnapping,theypouredinalivingtorrentwithhorridyellandshrillwhoopuponthedefencelessmerchantman. Butwilderyetwasthecry,andshrillerstillthescream,whenthereroseupfromtheshadowofthosesilentbulwarksthelonglinesoftheEnglishbowmen,andthearrowswhizzedinadeadlysleetamongtheunpreparedmassesuponthepiratedecks.Fromthehighersidesofthecogthebowmencouldshootstraightdown,atarangewhichwassoshortastoenableacloth-yardshafttopiercethroughmail-coatsortotransfixashield,thoughitwereaninchthickoftoughenedwood.OnemomentAlleynesawthegalley'spoopcrowdedwithrushingfigures,wavingarms,exultantfacesthenextitwasablood-smearedshambles,withbodiespiledthreedeepuponeachother,thelivingcoweringbehindthedeadtoshelterthemselvesfromthatsuddenstorm-blastofdeath.OneithersidetheseamenwhomSirNigelhadchosenforthepurposehadcasttheiranchorsoverthesideofthegalleys,sothatthethreevessels,lockedinanirongrip,lurchedheavilyforwardupontheswell. Andnowsetinafellandfiercefight,oneofathousandofwhichnochroniclerhasspokenandnopoetsung.Throughallthecenturiesandoverallthosesouthernwatersnamelessmenhavefoughtinnamelessplaces,theirsolemonumentsaprotectedcoastandanunravagedcountry-side. Foreandaftthearchershadclearedthegalleys'decks,butfromeithersidetherovershadpoureddownintothewaist,wheretheseamenandbowmenwerepushedbackandsomingledwiththeirfoesthatitwasimpossiblefortheircomradesabovetodrawstringtohelpthem.Itwasawildchaoswhereaxeandswordroseandfell,whileEnglishman,Norman,andItalianstaggeredandreeledonadeckwhichwascumberedwithbodiesandslipperywithblood.Theclangofblows,thecriesofthestricken,theshort,deepshoutoftheislanders,andthefiercewhoopsoftherovers,rosetogetherinadeafeningtumult,whilethebreathofthepantingmenwentupinthewintryairlikethesmokefromafurnace.ThegiantTete-noire,to