Day had not yet dawned when Nigel was in the chamber1 of Chandos preparing him for his departure and listening to the last cheery words of advice and direction from his noble master. That same morning, before the sun was half-way up the heaven, the King's great nef Philippa, bearing within it the most of those present at his banquet the night before, set its huge sail, adorned3 with the lions and the lilies, and turned its brazen4 beak5 for England. Behind it went five smaller cogs crammed6 with squires7, archers10 and men-at-arms.
Nigel and his companions lined the ramparts of the castle and waved their caps as the bluff11, burly vessels12, with drums beating and trumpets15 clanging, a hundred knightly16 pennons streaming from their decks and the red cross of England over all, rolled slowly out to the open sea. Then when they had watched them until they were hull18 down they turned, with hearts heavy at being left behind, to make ready for their own more distant venture.
It took them four days of hard work ere their preparations were complete, for many were the needs of a small force sailing to a strange country. Three ships had been left to them, the cog Thomas of Romney, the Grace Dieu of Hythe, and the Basilisk of Southampton, into each of which one hundred men were stowed, besides the thirty seamen19 who formed the crew. In the hold were forty horses, amongst them Pommers, much wearied by his long idleness, and homesick for the slopes of Surrey where his great limbs might find the work he craved20. Then the food and the water, the bow-staves and the sheaves of arrows, the horseshoes, the nails, the hammers, the knives, the axes, the ropes, the vats22 of hay, the green fodder23 and a score of other things were packed aboard. Always by the side of the ships stood the stern young knight17 Sir Robert, checking, testing, watching and controlling, saying little, for he was a man of few words, but with his eyes, his hands, and if need be his heavy dog-whip, wherever they were wanted.
The seamen of the Basilisk, being from a free port, had the old feud24 against the men of the Cinque Ports, who were looked upon by the other mariners26 of England as being unduly27 favored by the King. A ship of the West Country could scarce meet with one from the Narrow Seas without blood flowing. Hence sprang sudden broils28 on the quay29 side, when with yell and blow the Thomases and Grace Dieus, Saint Leonard on their lips and murder in their hearts, would fall upon the Basilisks. Then amid the whirl of cudgels and the clash of knives would spring the tiger figure of the young leader, lashing30 mercilessly to right and left like a tamer among his wolves, until he had beaten them howling back to their work. Upon the morning of the fourth day all was ready, and the ropes being cast off the three little ships were warped31 down the harbor by their own pinnaces until they were swallowed up in the swirling32 folds of a Channel mist.
Though small in numbers, it was no mean force which Edward had dispatched to succor33 the hard-pressed English garrisons34 in Brittany. There was scarce a man among them who was not an old soldier, and their leaders were men of note in council and in war. Knolles flew his flag of the black raven35 aboard the Basilisk. With him were Nigel and his own Squire8 John Hawthorn36. Of his hundred men, forty were Yorkshire Dalesmen and forty were men of Lincoln, all noted37 archers, with old Wat of Carlisle, a grizzled veteran of border warfare38, to lead them.
Already Aylward by his skill and strength had won his way to an under-officership amongst them, and shared with Long Ned Widdington, a huge North Countryman, the reputation of coming next to famous Wat Carlisle in all that makes an archer9. The men-at-arms too were war-hardened soldiers, with Black Simon of Norwich, the same who had sailed from Winchelsea, to lead them. With his heart filled with hatred39 for the French who had slain40 all who were dear to him, he followed like a bloodhound over land and sea to any spot where he might glut41 his vengeance42. Such also were the men who sailed in the other ships, Cheshire men from the Welsh borders in the cog Thomas, and Cumberland men, used to Scottish warfare, in the Grace Dieu.
Sir James Astley hung his shield of cinquefoil ermine over the quarter of the Thomas. Lord Thomas Percy, a cadet of Alnwick, famous already for the high spirit of that house which for ages was the bar upon the landward gate of England, showed his blue lion rampant43 as leader of the Grace Dieu. Such was the goodly company Saint-Malo bound, who warped from Calais Harbor to plunge44 into the thick reek45 of a Channel mist.
A slight breeze blew from the eastward46, and the highended, round-bodied craft rolled slowly down the Channel. The mist rose a little at times, so that they had sight of each other dipping and rising upon a sleek47, oily sea, but again it would sink down, settling over the top, shrouding48 the great yard, and finally frothing over the deck until even the water alongside had vanished from their view and they were afloat on a little raft in an ocean of vapor49. A thin cold rain was falling, and the archers were crowded under the shelter of the overhanging poop and forecastle, where some spent the hours at dice50, some in sleep, and many in trimming their arrows or polishing their weapons.
At the farther end, seated on a barrel as a throne of honor, with trays and boxes of feathers around him, was Bartholomew the bowyer and Fletcher, a fat, bald-headed man, whose task it was to see that every man's tackle was as it should be, and who had the privilege of selling such extras as they might need. A group of archers with their staves and quivers filed before him with complaints or requests, while half a dozen of the seniors gathered at his back and listened with grinning faces to his comments and rebukes51.
“Canst not string it?” he was saying to a young bowman. “Then surely the string is overshort or the stave overlong. It could not by chance be the fault of thy own baby arms more fit to draw on thy hosen than to dress a warbow. Thou lazy lurdan, thus is it strung!” He seized the stave by the center in his right hand, leaned the end on the inside of his right foot, and then, pulling the upper nock down with the left hand, slid the eye of the string easily into place. “Now I pray thee to unstring it again,” handing it to the bowman.
The youth with an effort did so, but he was too slow in disengaging his fingers, and the string sliding down with a snap from the upper nock caught and pinched them sorely against the stave. A roar of laughter, like the clap of a wave, swept down the deck as the luckless bowman danced and wrung52 his hand.
“Serve thee well right, thou redeless fool!” growled53 the old bowyer. “So fine a bow is wasted in such hands. How now, Samkin? I can teach you little of your trade, I trow. Here is a bow dressed as it should be; but it would, as you say, be the better for a white band to mark the true nocking point in the center of this red wrapping of silk. Leave it and I will tend to it anon. And you, Wat? A fresh head on yonder stele54? Lord, that a man should carry four trades under one hat, and be bowyer, fletcher, stringer and headmaker! Four men's work for old Bartholomew and one man's pay!”
“Nay, say no more about that,” growled an old wizened55 bowman, with a brown-parchment skin and little beady eyes. “It is better in these days to mend a bow than to bend one. You who never looked a Frenchman in the face are pricked56 off for ninepence a day, and I, who have fought five stricken fields, can earn but fourpence.”
“It is in my mind, John of Tuxford, that you have looked in the face more pots of mead57 than Frenchmen,” said the old bowyer. “I am swinking from dawn to night, while you are guzzling58 in an alestake. How now, youngster? Overbowed? Put your bow in the tiller. It draws at sixty pounds—not a pennyweight too much for a man of your inches. Lay more body to it, lad, and it will come to you. If your bow be not stiff, how can you hope for a twenty-score flight. Feathers? Aye, plenty and of the best. Here, peacock at a groat each. Surely a dandy archer like you, Tom Beverley, with gold earrings59 in your ears, would have no feathering but peacocks?”
“So the shaft60 fly straight, I care not of the feather,” said the bowman, a tall young Yorkshireman, counting out pennies on the palm of his horny hand.
“Gray goose-feathers are but a farthing. These on the left are a halfpenny, for they are of the wild goose, and the second feather of a fenny61 goose is worth more than the pinion62 of a tame one. These in the brass63 tray are dropped feathers, and a dropped feather is better than a plucked one. Buy a score of these, lad, and cut them saddle-backed or swine-backed, the one for a dead shaft and the other for a smooth flyer, and no man in the company will swing a better-fletched quiver over his shoulder.”
It chanced that the opinion of the bowyer on this and other points differed from that of Long Ned of Widdington, a surly straw-bearded Yorkshireman, who had listened with a sneering64 face to his counsel. Now he broke in suddenly upon the bowyer's talk. “You would do better to sell bows than to try to teach others how to use them,” said he; “for indeed, Bartholomew, that head of thine has no more sense within it than it has hairs without. If you had drawn65 string for as many months as I have years you would know that a straight-cut feather flies smoother than a swine-backed, and pity it is that these young bowmen have none to teach them better!”
This attack upon his professional knowledge touched the old bowyer on the raw. His fat face became suffused66 with blood and his eyes glared with fury as he turned upon the archer. “You seven-foot barrel of lies!” he cried. “All-hallows be my aid, and I will teach you to open your slabbing mouth against me! Pluck forth67 your sword and stand out on yonder deck, that we may see who is the man of us twain. May I never twirl a shaft over my thumb nail if I do not put Bartholomew's mark upon your thick head!”
A score of rough voices joined at once in the quarrel, some upholding the bowyer and others taking the part of the North Countryman. A red-headed Dalesman snatched up a sword, but was felled by a blow from the fist of his neighbor. Instantly, with a buzz like a swarm68 of angry hornets, the bowmen were out on the deck; but ere a blow was struck Knolles was amongst them with granite69 face and eyes of fire.
“Stand apart, I say! I will warrant you enough fighting to cool your blood ere you see England once more. Loring, Hawthorn, cut any man down who raises his hand. Have you aught to say, you fox-haired rascal70?” He thrust his face within two inches of that of the red man who had first seized his sword. The fellow shrank back, cowed, from his fierce eyes. “Now stint71 your noise, all of you, and stretch your long ears. Trumpeter, blow once more!”
A bugle73 call had been sounded every quarter of an hour so as to keep in touch with the other two vessels who were invisible in the fog. Now the high clear note rang out once more, the call of a fierce sea-creature to its mates, but no answer came back from the thick wall which pent them in. Again and again they called, and again and again with bated breath they waited for an answer.
“Where is the Shipman?” asked Knolles. “What is your name, fellow? Do you dare call yourself master-mariner25?”
“My name is Nat Dennis, fair sir,” said the gray-bearded old seaman74. “It is thirty years since first I showed my cartel and blew trumpet14 for a crew at the water-gate of Southampton. If any man may call himself master-mariner, it is surely I.”
“Where are our two ships?”
“Nay, sir, who can say in this fog?”
“Fellow, it was your place to hold them together.”
“I have but the eyes God gave me, fair sir, and they cannot see through a cloud.”
“Had it been fair, I, who am a soldier, could have kept them in company. Since it was foul75, we looked to you, who are called a mariner, to do so. You have not done it. You have lost two of my ships ere the venture is begun.”
“Nay, fair sir, I pray you to consider—”
“Enough words!” said Knolles sternly. “Words will not give me back my two hundred men. Unless I find them before I come to Saint-Malo, I swear by Saint Wilfrid of Ripon that it will be an evil day for you! Enough! Go forth and do what you may!”
For five hours with a light breeze behind them they lurched through the heavy fog, the cold rain still matting their beards and shining on their faces. Sometimes they could see a circle of tossing water for a bowshot or so in each direction, and then the wreaths would crawl in upon them once more and bank them thickly round. They had long ceased to blow the trumpet for their missing comrades, but had hopes when clear weather came to find them still in sight. By the shipman's reckoning they were now about midway between the two shores.
Nigel was leaning against the bulwarks77, his thoughts away in the dingle at Cosford and out on the heather-clad slopes of Hindhead, when something struck his ear. It was a thin clear clang of metal, pealing78 out high above the dull murmur79 of the sea, the creak of the boom and the flap of the sail. He listened, and again it was borne to his ear.
“Hark, my lord!” said he to Sir Robert. “Is there not a sound in the fog?”
They both listened together with sidelong heads. Then it rang clearly forth once more, but this time in another direction. It had been on the bow; now it was on the quarter. Again it sounded, and again. Now it had moved to the other bow; now back to the quarter again; now it was near; and now so far that it was but a faint tinkle80 on the ear. By this time every man on board, seamen, archers and men-at-arms, were crowding the sides of the vessel13. All round them there were noises in the darkness, and yet the wall of fog lay wet against their very faces. And the noises were such as were strange to their ears, always the same high musical clashing.
The old shipman shook his head and crossed himself.
“In thirty years upon the waters I have never heard the like,” said he. “The Devil is ever loose in a fog. Well is he named the Prince of Darkness.”
A wave of panic passed over the vessel, and these rough and hardy81 men who feared no mortal foe82 shook with terror at the shadows of their own minds. They stared into the cloud with blanched84 faces and fixed85 eyes, as though each instant some fearsome shape might break in upon them. And as they stared there came a gust86 of wind. For a moment the fog-bank rose and a circle of ocean lay before them.
It was covered with vessels. On all sides they lay thick upon its surface. They were huge caracks, high-ended and portly, with red sides and bulwarks carved and crusted with gold. Each had one great sail set and was driving down channel on the same course at the Basilisk. Their decks were thick with men, and from their high poops came the weird87 clashing which filled the air. For one moment they lay there, this wondrous88 fleet, surging slowly forward, framed in gray vapor. The next the clouds closed in and they had vanished from view. There was a long hush89, and then a buzz of excited voices.
“The Spaniards!” cried a dozen bowmen and sailors.
“I should have known it,” said the shipman. “I call to mind on the Biscay Coast how they would clash their cymbals90 after the fashion of the heathen Moor91 with whom they fight; but what would you have me do, fair sir? If the fog rises we are all dead men.”
“There were thirty ships at the least,” said Knolles, with a moody92 brow. “If we have seen them I trow that they have also seen us. They will lay us aboard.”
“Nay, fair sir, it is in my mind that our ship is lighter93 and faster than theirs. If the fog hold another hour we should be through them.”
“Stand to your arms!” yelled Knolles. “Stand to your arms—! They are on us!”
The Basilisk had indeed been spied from the Spanish Admiral's ship before the fog closed down. With so light a breeze, and such a fog, he could not hope to find her under sail. But by an evil chance not a bowshot from the great Spanish carack was a low galley94, thin and swift, with oars95 which could speed her against wind or tide. She also had seen the Basilisk and it was to her that the Spanish leader shouted his orders. For a few minutes she hunted through the fog, and then sprang out of it like a lean and stealthy beast upon its prey96. It was the sight of the long dark shadow gliding97 after them which had brought that wild shout of alarm from the lips of the English knight. In another instant the starboard oars of the galley had been shipped, the sides of the two vessels grated together, and a stream of swarthy, red-capped Spaniards were swarming98 up the sides of the Basilisk and dropped with yells of triumph upon her deck.
For a moment it seemed as if the vessel was captured without a blow being struck, for the men of the English ship had run wildly in all directions to look for their arms. Scores of archers might be seen under the shadow of the forecastle and the poop bending their bowstaves to string them with the cords from their waterproof99 cases. Others were scrambling100 over saddles, barrels and cases in wild search of their quivers. Each as he came upon his arrows pulled out a few to lend to his less fortunate comrades. In mad haste the men-at-arms also were feeling and grasping in the dark corners, picking up steel caps which would not fit them, hurling101 them down on the deck, and snatching eagerly at any swords or spears that came their way.
The center of the ship was held by the Spaniards; and having slain all who stood before them, they were pressing up to either end before they were made to understand that it was no fat sheep but a most fierce old wolf which they had taken by the ears.
If the lesson was late, it was the more thorough. Attacked on both sides and hopelessly outnumbered, the Spaniards, who had never doubted that this little craft was a merchant-ship, were cut off to the last man. It was no fight, but a butchery. In vain the survivors102 ran screaming prayers to the saints and threw themselves down into the galley alongside. It also had been riddled103 with arrows from the poop of the Basilisk, and both the crew on the deck and the galley-slaves in the outriggers at either side lay dead in rows under the overwhelming shower from above. From stem to rudder every foot of her was furred with arrows. It was but a floating coffin104 piled with dead and dying men, which wallowed in the waves behind them as the Basilisk lurched onward105 and left her in the fog.
In their first rush on to the Basilisk, the Spaniards had seized six of the crew and four unarmed archers. Their throats had been cut and their bodies tossed overboard. Now the Spaniards who littered the deck, wounded and dead, were thrust over the side in the same fashion. One ran down into the hold and had to be hunted and killed squealing106 under the blows like a rat in the darkness. Within half an hour no sign was left of this grim meeting in the fog save for the crimson107 splashes upon bulwarks and deck. The archers, flushed and merry, were unstringing their bows once more, for in spite of the water glue the damp air took the strength from the cords. Some were hunting about for arrows which might have stuck inboard, and some tying up small injuries received in the scuffle. But an anxious shadow still lingered upon the face of Sir Robert, and he peered fixedly108 about him through the fog.
“Go among the archers, Hawthorne,” said he to his Squire. “Charge them on their lives to make no sound! You also, Loring. Go to the afterguard and say the same to them. We are lost if one of these great ships should spy us.”
For an hour with bated breath they stole through the fleet, still hearing the cymbals clashing all round them, for in this way the Spaniards held themselves together. Once the wild music came from above their very prow109, and so warned them to change their course. Once also a huge vessel loomed110 for an instant upon their quarter, but they turned two points away from her, and she blurred111 and vanished. Soon the cymbals were but a distant tinkling112, and at last they died gradually away.
“It is none too soon,” said the old shipman, pointing to a yellowish tint72 in the haze113 above them. “See yonder! It is the sun which wins through. It will be here anon. Ah! said I not so?”
A sickly sun, no larger and far dimmer than the moon, had indeed shown its face, with cloud-wreaths smoking across it. As they looked up it waxed larger and brighter before their eyes—a yellow halo spread round it, one ray broke through, and then a funnel114 of golden light poured down upon them, widening swiftly at the base. A minute later they were sailing on a clear blue sea with an azure115 cloud-flecked sky above their heads, and such a scene beneath it as each of them would carry in his memory while memory remained.
They were in mid-channel. The white and green coasts of Picardy and of Kent lay clear upon either side of them. The wide channel stretched in front, deepening from the light blue beneath their prow to purple on the far sky-line. Behind them was that thick bank of cloud from which they had just burst. It lay like a gray wall from east to west, and through it were breaking the high shadowy forms of the ships of Spain. Four of them had already emerged, their red bodies, gilded116 sides and painted sails shining gloriously in the evening sun. Every instant a fresh golden spot grew out of the fog, which blazed like a star for an instant, and then surged forward to show itself as the brazen beak of the great red vessel which bore it. Looking back, the whole bank of cloud was broken by the widespread line of noble ships which were bursting through it. The Basilisk lay a mile or more in front of them and two miles clear of their wing. Five miles farther off, in the direction of the French coast, two other small ships were running down Channel. A cry of joy from Robert Knolles and a hearty117 prayer of gratitude118 to the saints from the old shipman hailed them as their missing comrades, the cog Thomas and the Grace Dieu.
But fair as was the view of their lost friends, and wondrous the appearance of the Spanish ships, it was not on those that the eyes of the men of the Basilisk were chiefly bent119. A greater sight lay before them—a sight which brought them clustering to the forecastle with eager eyes and pointing fingers. The English fleet was coming forth from the Winchelsea Coast. Already before the fog lifted a fast galleass had brought the news down Channel that the Spanish were on the sea, and the King's fleet was under way. Now their long array of sails, gay with the coats and colors of the towns which had furnished them, lay bright against the Kentish coast from Dungeness Point to Rye. Nine and twenty ships were there from Southampton, Shoreham, Winchelsea, Hastings, Rye, Hythe, Romney, Folkestone, Deal, Dover and Sandwich. With their great sails slued round to catch the wind they ran out, whilst the Spanish, like the gallant120 foes121 that they have ever been, turned their heads landward to meet them. With flaunting122 banners and painted sails, blaring trumpets and clashing cymbals, the two glittering fleets, dipping and rising on the long Channel swell123, drew slowly together.
King Edward had been lying all day in his great ship the Philippa, a mile out from the Camber Sands, waiting for the coming of the Spaniards. Above the huge sail which bore the royal arms flew the red cross of England. Along the bulwarks were shown the shields of forty knights124, the flower of English chivalry125, and as many pennons floated from the deck. The high ends of the ship glittered with the weapons of the men-at-arms, and the waist was crammed with the archers. From time to time a crash of nakers and blare of trumpets burst from the royal ship, and was answered by her great neighbors, the Lion on which the Black Prince flew his flag, the Christopher with the Earl of Suffolk, the Salle du Roi of Robert of Namur, and the Grace Marie of Sir Thomas Holland. Farther off lay the White Swan, bearing the arms of Mowbray, the Palmer of Deal, flying the Black Head of Audley, and the Kentish man under the Lord Beauchamp. The rest lay, anchored but ready, at the mouth of Winchelsea Creek126.
The King sat upon a keg in the fore2 part of his ship, with little John of Richmond, who was no more than a schoolboy, perched upon his knee. Edward was clad in the black velvet127 jacket which was his favorite garb128, and wore a small brown-beaver129 hat with a white plume130 at the side. A rich cloak of fur turned up with miniver drooped131 from his shoulders. Behind him were a score of his knights, brilliant in silks and sarcenets, some seated on an upturned boat and some swinging their legs from the bulwark76.
In front stood John Chandos in a party-colored jupon, one foot raised upon the anchor-stock, picking at the strings132 of his guitar and singing a song which he had learned at Marienburg when last he helped the Teutonic knights against the heathen. The King, his knights, and even the archers in the waist below them, laughed at the merry lilt and joined lustily in the chorus, while the men of the neighboring ships leaned over the side to hearken to the deep chant rolling over the waters.
But there came a sudden interruption to the song. A sharp, harsh shout came down from the lookout133 stationed in the circular top at the end of the mast. “I spy a sail—two sails!” he cried.
John Bunce the King's shipman shaded his eyes and stared at the long fog-bank which shrouded134 the northern channel. Chandos, with his fingers over the strings of his guitar, the King, the knights, all gazed in the same direction. Two small dark shapes had burst forth, and then after some minutes a third.
“Surely they are the Spaniards?” said the King.
“Nay, sire,” the seaman answered, “the Spaniards are greater ships and are painted red. I know not what these may be.”
“But I could hazard a guess!” cried Chandos. “Surely they are the three ships with my own men on their way to Brittany.”
“You have hit it, John,” said the King. “But look, I pray you! What in the name of the Virgin135 is that?”
Four brilliant stars of flashing light had shone out from different points of the cloud-bank. The next instant as many tall ships had swooped136 forth into the sunshine. A fierce shout rang from the King's ship, and was taken up all down the line, until the whole coast from Dungeness to Winchelsea echoed the warlike greeting. The King sprang up with a joyous137 face.
“The game is afoot, my friends!” said he. “Dress, John! Dress, Walter! Quick all of you! Squires, bring the harness! Let each tend to himself, for the time is short.”
A strange sight it was to see these forty nobles tearing off their clothes and littering the deck with velvets and satins, whilst the squire of each, as busy as an ostler before a race, stooped and pulled and strained and riveted138, fastening the bassinets, the legpieces, the front and the back plates, until the silken courtier had become the man of steel. When their work was finished, there stood a stern group of warriors139 where the light dandies had sung and jested round Sir John's guitar. Below in orderly silence the archers were mustering140 under their officers and taking their allotted141 stations. A dozen had swarmed142 up to their hazardous143 post in the little tower in the tops.
“Bring wine, Nicholas!” cried the King. “Gentlemen, ere you close your visors I pray you to take a last rouse with me. You will be dry enough, I promise you, before your lips are free once more. To what shall we drink, John?”
“To the men of Spain,” said Chandos, his sharp face peering like a gaunt bird through the gap in his helmet. “May their hearts be stout144 and their spirits high this day!”
“Well said, John!” cried the King, and the knights laughed joyously145 as they drank. “Now, fair sirs, let each to his post! I am warden146 here on the forecastle. Do you, John, take charge of the afterguard. Walter, James, William, Fitzallan, Goldesborough, Reginald—you will stay with me! John, you may pick whom you will and the others will bide147 with the archers. Now bear straight at the center, master-shipman. Ere yonder sun sets we will bring a red ship back as a gift to our ladies, or never look upon a lady's face again.”
The art of sailing into a wind had not yet been invented, nor was there any fore-and-aft canvas, save for small headsails with which a vessel could be turned. Hence the English fleet had to take a long slant148 down channel to meet their enemies; but as the Spaniards coming before the wind were equally anxious to engage there was the less delay. With stately pomp and dignity, the two great fleets approached.
It chanced that one fine carack had outstripped149 its consorts150 and came sweeping151 along, all red and gold, with a fringe of twinkling steel, a good half-mile before the fleet. Edward looked at her with a kindling152 eye, for indeed she was a noble sight with the blue water creaming under her gilded prow.
“This is a most worthy153 and debonair154 vessel, Master Bunce,” said he to the shipman beside him. “I would fain have a tilt155 with her. I pray you to hold us straight that we may bear her down.”
“If I hold her straight, then one or other must sink, and it may be both,” the seaman answered.
“I doubt not that with the help of our Lady we shall do our part,” said the King. “Hold her straight, master-shipman, as I have told you.”
Now the two vessels were within arrow flight, and the bolts from the crossbowmen pattered upon the English ship. These short thick devil's darts156 were everywhere humming like great wasps157 through the air, crashing against the bulwarks, beating upon the deck, ringing loudly on the armor of the knights, or with a soft muffled158 thud sinking to the socket159 in a victim.
The bowmen along either side of the Philippa had stood motionless waiting for their orders, but now there was a sharp shout from their leader, and every string twanged together. The air was full of their harping160, together with the swish of the arrows, the long-drawn keening of the bowmen and the short deep bark of the under-officers. “Steady, steady! Loose steady! Shoot wholly together! Twelve score paces! Ten score! Now eight! Shoot wholly together!” Their gruff shouts broke through the high shrill161 cry like the deep roar of a wave through the howl of the wind.
As the two great ships hurtled together the Spaniard turned away a few points so that the blow should be a glancing one. None the less it was terrific. A dozen men in the tops of the carack were balancing a huge stone with the intention of dropping it over on the English deck. With a scream of horror they saw the mast cracking beneath them. Over it went, slowly at first, then faster, until with a crash it came down on its side, sending them flying like stones from a sling162 far out into the sea. A swath of crushed bodies lay across the deck where the mast had fallen. But the English ship had not escaped unscathed. Her mast held, it is true, but the mighty163 shock not only stretched every man flat upon the deck, but had shaken a score of those who lined her sides into the sea. One bowman was hurled164 from the top, and his body fell with a dreadful crash at the very side of the prostrate165 King upon the forecastle. Many were thrown down with broken arms and legs from the high castles at either end into the waist of the ship. Worst of all, the seams had been opened by the crash and the water was gushing166 in at a dozen places.
But these were men of experience and of discipline, men who had already fought together by sea and by land, so that each knew his place and his duty. Those who could staggered to their feet and helped up a score or more of knights who were rolling and clashing in the scuppers unable to rise for the weight of their armor. The bowmen formed up as before. The seamen ran to the gaping167 seams with oakum and with tar83. In ten minutes order had been restored and the Philippa, though shaken and weakened, was ready for battle once more. The King was glaring round him like a wounded boar.
“Grapple my ship with that,” he cried, pointing to the crippled Spaniard, “for I would have possession of her!”
But already the breeze had carried them past it, and a dozen Spanish ships were bearing down full upon them.
“We cannot win back to her, lest we show our flank to these others,” said the shipman.
“Let her go her way!” cried the knights. “You shall have better than her.”
“By Saint George! you speak the truth,” said the King, “for she is ours when we have time to take her. These also seem very worthy ships which are drawing up to us, and I pray you, master-shipman, that you will have a tilt with the nearest.”
A great carack was within a bowshot of them and crossing their bows. Bunce looked up at his mast, and he saw that already it was shaken and drooping168. Another blow and it would be over the side and his ship a helpless log upon the water. He jammed his helm round therefore, and ran his ship alongside the Spaniard, throwing out his hooks and iron chains as he did so.
They, no less eager, grappled the Philippa both fore and aft, and the two vessels, linked tightly together, surged slowly over the long blue rollers. Over their bulwarks hung a cloud of men locked together in a desperate struggle, sometimes surging forward on to the deck of the Spaniard, sometimes recoiling169 back on to the King's ship, reeling this way and that, with the swords flickering170 like silver flames above them, while the long-drawn cry of rage and agony swelled171 up like a wolf's howl to the calm blue heaven above them.
But now ship after ship of the English had come up, each throwing its iron over the nearest Spaniard and striving to board her high red sides. Twenty ships were drifting in furious single combat after the manner of the Philippa, until the whole surface of the sea was covered with a succession of these desperate duels172. The dismasted carack, which the King's ship had left behind it, had been carried by the Earl of Suffolk's Christopher, and the water was dotted with the heads of her crew. An English ship had been sunk by a huge stone discharged from an engine, and her men also were struggling in the waves, none having leisure to lend them a hand. A second English ship was caught between two of the Spanish vessels and overwhelmed by a rush of boarders so that not a man of her was left alive. On the other hand, Mowbray and Audley had each taken the caracks which were opposed to them, and the battle in the center, after swaying this way and that, was turning now in favor of the Islanders.
The Black Prince, with the Lion, the Grace Marie and four other ships had swept round to turn the Spanish flank; but the movement was seen, and the Spaniards had ten ships with which to meet it, one of them their great carack the St. Iago di Compostella. To this ship the Prince had attached his little cog and strove desperately173 to board her, but her side was so high and the defense174 so desperate that his men could never get beyond her bulwarks but were hurled down again and again with a clang and clash to the deck beneath. Her side bristled175 with crossbowmen, who shot straight down on to the packed waist of the Lion, so that the dead lay there in heaps. But the most dangerous of all was a swarthy black-bearded giant in the tops, who crouched176 so that none could see him, but rising every now and then with a huge lump of iron between his hands, hurled it down with such force that nothing would stop it. Again and again these ponderous177 bolts crashed through the deck and hurtled down into the bottom of the ship, starting the planks178 and shattering all that came in their way.
The Prince, clad in that dark armor which gave him his name, was directing the attack from the poop when the shipman rushed wildly up to him with fear on his face.
“Sire!” he cried. “The ship may not stand against these blows. A few more will sink her! Already the water floods inboard.”
The Prince looked up, and as he did so the shaggy beard showed once more and two brawny179 arms swept downward. A great slug, whizzing down, beat a gaping hole in the deck, and fell rending180 and riving into the hold below. The master-mariner tore his grizzled hair.
“Another leak!” he cried. “I pray to Saint Leonard to bear us up this day! Twenty of my shipmen are bailing181 with buckets, but the water rises on them fast. The vessel may not float another hour.”
The Prince had snatched a crossbow from one of his attendants and leveled it at the Spaniard's tops. At the very instant when the seaman stood erect182 with a fresh bar in his hands, the bolt took him full in the face, and his body fell forward over the parapet, hanging there head downward. A howl of exultation183 burst from the English at the sight, answered by a wild roar of anger from the Spaniards. A seaman had run from the Lion's hold and whispered in the ear of the shipman. He turned an ashen184 face upon the Prince.
“It is even as I say, sire. The ship is sinking beneath our feet!” he cried.
“The more need that we should gain another,” said he. “Sir Henry Stokes, Sir Thomas Stourton, William, John of Clifton, here lies our road! Advance my banner, Thomas de Mohun! On, and the day is ours!”
By a desperate scramble185 a dozen men, the Prince at their head, gained a footing on the edge of the Spaniard's deck. Some slashed186 furiously to clear a space, others hung over, clutching the rail with one hand and pulling up their comrades from below. Every instant that they could hold their own their strength increased, till twenty had become thirty and thirty forty, when of a sudden the newcomers, still reaching forth to their comrades below, saw the deck beneath them reel and vanish in a swirling sheet of foam187. The Prince's ship had foundered188.
A yell went up from the Spaniards as they turned furiously upon the small band who had reached their deck. Already the Prince and his men had carried the poop, and from that high station they beat back their swarming enemies. But crossbow darts pelted189 and thudded among their ranks till a third of their number were stretched upon the planks. Lined across the deck they could hardly keep an unbroken front to the leaping, surging crowd who pressed upon them. Another rush, or another after that, must assuredly break them, for these dark men of Spain, hardened by an endless struggle with the Moors190, were fierce and stubborn fighters. But hark to this sudden roar upon the farther side of them—
“Saint George! Saint George! A Knolles to the rescue!” A small craft had run alongside and sixty men had swarmed on the deck of the St. Iago. Caught between two fires, the Spaniards wavered and broke. The fight became a massacre191. Down from the poop sprang the Prince's men. Up from the waist rushed the new-corners. There were five dreadful minutes of blows and screams and prayers with struggling figures clinging to the bulwarks and sullen192 splashes into the water below. Then it was over, and a crowd of weary, overstrained men leaned panting upon their weapons, or lay breathless and exhausted193 upon the deck of the captured carack.
The Prince had pulled up his visor and lowered his beaver. He smiled proudly as he gazed around him and wiped his streaming face. “Where is the shipman?” he asked. “Let him lead us against another ship.”
“Nay, sire, the shipman and all his men have sunk in the Lion,” said Thomas de Mohun, a young knight of the West Country, who carried the standard. “We have lost our ship and the half of our following. I fear that we can fight no more.”
“It matters the less since the day is already ours,” said the Prince, looking over the sea. “My noble father's royal banner flies upon yonder Spaniard. Mowbray, Audley, Suffolk, Beauchamp, Namur, Tracey, Stafford, Arundel, each has his flag over a scarlet194 carack, even as mine floats over this. See, yonder squadron is already far beyond our reach. But surely we owe thanks to you who came at so perilous195 a moment to our aid. Your face I have seen, and your coat-armor also, young sir, though I cannot lay my tongue to your name. Let me know that I may thank you.”
He had turned to Nigel, who stood flushed and joyous at the head of the boarders from the Basilisk.
“I am but a Squire, sire, and can claim no thanks, for there is nothing that I have done. Here is our leader.”
The Prince's eyes fell upon the shield charged with the Black Raven and the stern young face of him who bore it. “Sir Robert Knolles,” said he, “I had thought you were on your way to Brittany.”
“I was so, sire, when I had the fortune to see this battle as I passed.”
The Prince laughed. “It would indeed be to ask too much, Robert, that you should keep on your course when much honor was to be gathered so close to you. But now I pray you that you will come back with us to Winchelsea, for well I know that my father would fain thank you for what you have done this day.”
But Robert Knolles shook his head. “I have your father's command, sire, and without his order I may not go against it. Our people are hard-pressed in Brittany, and it is not for me to linger on the way. I pray you, sire, if you must needs mention me to the King, to crave21 his pardon that I should have broken my journey thus.”
“You are right, Robert. God-speed you on your way! And I would that I were sailing under your banner, for I see clearly that you will take your people where they may worshipfully win worship. Perchance I also maybe in Brittany before the year is past.”
The Prince turned to the task of gathering196 his weary people together, and the Basilisks passed over the side once more and dropped down on to their own little ship. They poled her off from the captured Spaniard and set their sail with their prow for the south. Far ahead of them were their two consorts, beating towards them in the hope of giving help, while down Channel were a score of Spanish ships with a few of the English vessels hanging upon their skirts. The sun lay low on the water, and its level beams glowed upon the scarlet and gold of fourteen great caracks, each flying the cross of Saint George, and towering high above the cluster of English ships which, with brave waving of flags and blaring of music, were moving slowly towards the Kentish coast.
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1
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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squires
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| n.地主，乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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archer
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| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
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archers
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| n.弓箭手，射箭运动员( archer的名词复数 ) | |
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11
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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12
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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13
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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14
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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15
trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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16
knightly
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| adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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18
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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19
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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20
craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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crave
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| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
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vats
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| varieties 变化，多样性，种类 | |
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fodder
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| n.草料；炮灰 | |
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feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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25
mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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mariners
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| 海员，水手（mariner的复数形式） | |
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27
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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28
broils
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| v.（用火）烤（焙、炙等）( broil的第三人称单数 )；使卷入争吵；使混乱；被烤（或炙） | |
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29
quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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30
lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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31
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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32
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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succor
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| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
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garrisons
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| 守备部队，卫戍部队( garrison的名词复数 ) | |
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35
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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36
hawthorn
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| 山楂 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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38
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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39
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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40
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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41
glut
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| n.存货过多，供过于求；v.狼吞虎咽 | |
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42
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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43
rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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44
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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45
reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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46
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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47
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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48
shrouding
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| n.覆盖v.隐瞒( shroud的现在分词 )；保密 | |
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49
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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50
dice
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| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
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51
rebukes
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的第三人称单数 ) | |
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52
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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53
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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54
stele
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| n.石碑，石柱 | |
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55
wizened
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| adj.凋谢的；枯槁的 | |
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56
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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57
mead
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| n.蜂蜜酒 | |
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58
guzzling
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| v.狂吃暴饮，大吃大喝( guzzle的现在分词 ) | |
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59
earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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60
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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61
fenny
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| adj.沼泽的；沼泽多的；长在沼泽地带的；住在沼泽地的 | |
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62
pinion
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| v.束缚；n.小齿轮 | |
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63
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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64
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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65
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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68
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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69
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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71
stint
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| v.节省，限制，停止；n.舍不得化，节约，限制；连续不断的一段时间从事某件事 | |
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72
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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73
bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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74
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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75
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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76
bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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78
pealing
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的现在分词 ) | |
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79
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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80
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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81
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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82
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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83
tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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84
blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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85
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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86
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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87
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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88
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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89
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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90
cymbals
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| pl.铙钹 | |
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91
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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92
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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93
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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94
galley
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| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
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95
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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96
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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97
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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98
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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99
waterproof
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| n.防水材料；adj.防水的；v.使...能防水 | |
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100
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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101
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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102
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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103
riddled
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| adj.布满的；充斥的；泛滥的v.解谜，出谜题(riddle的过去分词形式) | |
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104
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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105
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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106
squealing
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
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107
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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108
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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109
prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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110
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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111
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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112
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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113
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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114
funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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115
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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116
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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117
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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118
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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119
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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120
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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121
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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122
flaunting
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| adj.招摇的，扬扬得意的，夸耀的v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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123
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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124
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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125
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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126
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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127
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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128
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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129
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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130
plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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131
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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133
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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134
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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135
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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136
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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137
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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138
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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139
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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140
mustering
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的现在分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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141
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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142
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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143
hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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145
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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146
warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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147
bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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148
slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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149
outstripped
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| v.做得比…更好，（在赛跑等中）超过( outstrip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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150
consorts
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| n.配偶( consort的名词复数 )；（演奏古典音乐的）一组乐师；一组古典乐器；一起v.结伴( consort的第三人称单数 )；交往；相称；调和 | |
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151
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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152
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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153
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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154
debonair
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| adj.殷勤的，快乐的 | |
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155
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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156
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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157
wasps
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| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
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158
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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159
socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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160
harping
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| n.反复述说 | |
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161
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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162
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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163
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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164
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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165
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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166
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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167
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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168
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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169
recoiling
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| v.畏缩( recoil的现在分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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170
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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171
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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172
duels
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| n.两男子的决斗( duel的名词复数 )；竞争，斗争 | |
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173
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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174
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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175
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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176
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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177
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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178
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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179
brawny
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| adj.强壮的 | |
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180
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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181
bailing
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| （凿井时用吊桶）排水 | |
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182
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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183
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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184
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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185
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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186
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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187
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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188
foundered
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| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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189
pelted
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| （连续地）投掷( pelt的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续抨击； 攻击； 剥去…的皮 | |
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190
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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191
massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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192
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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193
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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194
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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195
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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196
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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