A SEA-FIGHT
While Blanche of Castile and Eustace the Monk were fitting out the
armament at Calais for completing the conquest of England, Hubert de
Burgh, keeping watch from the castle of Dover, and in constant
communication with the mariners of the Cinque Ports, was well informed
of what was going on, and Hubert, being bold as a lion, resolved to risk
everything in order to prevent the French force that had just embarked
at Calais from setting foot in England.
“By the blood of Christ!” said he to the Bishop of Winchester, “if these
people are allowed to come to England the kingdom is lost. Let us,
therefore, go forth and encounter them with courage, for God is with us,
and they are excommunicated.”
Now Hubert de Burgh had no fleet which appeared sufficiently formidable
to encounter the French armament. However, he had about sixteen large
ships, and twenty small vessels belonging to the Cinque Ports, his
galleys being peaked with iron, and likely, therefore, to do terrible
execution in the event of coming to a close conflict, with the wind in
their favour. Moreover, the English were elated when they called to mind
the great naval victory which the Earl of Salisbury had won over the
French some years earlier at the mouth of the Seine; and in the
seamanship of the mariners of the Cinque Ports, whose superiority over
the sailors of France had been repeatedly proved, they had great and
well-grounded confidence. It was, therefore, with something like the
hope of a happy result, in spite of the odds against him, that Hubert
sent for Luke, his chaplain, took the sacrament, and prepared to go on
board his little fleet. Before doing so, however, he intrusted the
castle of Dover to knights on whose fidelity he could depend, and
charged them not on any account to surrender.
“I beseech you, by the blood of Christ!” said he earnestly and solemnly,
“not to waver or yield to threats. If I happen to be made prisoner,
allow me to be hanged rather than surrender this castle to the French,
for it is the key of England.”
“We promise faithfully to defend it, or die in the attempt,” replied the
knights; and Hubert de Burgh then went on board, with many crossbowmen
and archers, and accompanied by Henry de Turville and Richard Siward,
two gallant knights, as well as by Richard, one of King John’s
illegitimate sons, who married Rohesia, heiress of Fulbert de Dover, and
who on this day was destined to signalise at once his courage and his
cruelty.
And now the mariners of the Cinque Ports--weatherbeaten men who had long
fought with the winds, and the waves, and the French--having lifted
their anchors and set their sails, put out to sea, and the ships went
tilting over the waves, and proceeded boldly on their course, and
steered as if bound for Calais. Suddenly, however, when near the French
fleet, they altered their course, and, having gained the weather-gage,
sailed, much to the surprise of Eustace the Monk, right among the
French, and, driven by the wind, charged at the enemy’s ships with the
iron beaks of their galleys, and sank several large French vessels with
all on board.
This, however, was but the beginning of the battle, which speedily
assumed a terrific aspect, and became sanguinary and stubborn, “for,” as
Froissart remarks, “combats at sea are more destructive and obstinate
than upon land, for it is not possible to retreat or fly, every one
being under the necessity of abiding his fortune and exerting his
prowess and valour.” Throwing out grapnels and iron hooks and chains, to
be more certain of having their enemies in close fight, the English
moored their ships to those of the French, and while the mariners of the
Cinque Ports, with loud shouts of defiance, threw hot lime-dust into the
air to blind their adversaries, which, blown by the wind, did its work
well, the archers and crossbowmen made such terrible execution, that
Eustace the Monk, seeing that all his calculations were baffled, stamped
and roared with rage and vexation.
It was indeed most mortifying for the monk to be beaten by foes for whom
he had recently expressed such contempt, and Eustace made great efforts
to redeem the fortune of the day, and a terrible struggle ensued. The
English, bearing their axes, boarded the ships of their adversaries,
and engaged hand to hand with all the fury which national animosity
could inspire, directing their energy especially against the ship on
board of which Eustace the Monk was fighting with the courage of despair
and hurling defiance at his foes. Great indeed was his fury.
The combat, however, became every moment less and less doubtful. The
English, accustomed to the narrow seas, fought as if on their native
element, while the French, unused to naval warfare, found that they were
fighting at great disadvantage, and soon lost courage and hope. Many in
their despair and perplexity threw themselves into the sea, and sank to
rise no more, while others, seeing that all was lost, threw down their
arms and yielded themselves prisoners. But still Eustace struggled on,
as if sternly resolved rather to die than yield. At length, however,
Richard, son of King John, who had boarded the ship of the pirate chief,
axe in hand, shouted to his men to cut away the rigging that supported
the mast and yards, and “the expanding sail falling,” says the
chronicler, “the French were caught like birds in a net.”
The English now raised the cry of victory, and the heart of Eustace the
Monk at length failing him, he attempted to save himself by hiding in
the hold. But he could not avoid any more than he could resist his fate,
and being discovered he was instantly dragged on deck and surrounded by
his foes. Overwhelmed by a sense of the danger in which he found
himself, the pirate begged that his life might be spared, and offered to
pay a large sum of money as ransom.
“No,” cried the English, who hated him for the mischief he had wrought
them, and also because his brothers had seized some of the isles, and
commenced a system of piracy which was ruinous to English commerce; “you
are a pirate, and not entitled to the privileges of honourable
warriors.”
“I will not only pay a large ransom,” urged Eustace, passionately, “but
I promise faithfully in future to serve your King Henry. Only spare my
life!”
“No, wicked traitor!” cried Richard, the son of King John. “Never again
in this world shall you deceive any one with your false promises.” And
as he spoke the bastard’s sword waved in the air, and next moment the
head of Eustace the Monk rolled on the deck.
And now all was over, and the mariners of the Cinque Ports, taking
their prizes in tow, returned with them and a host of prisoners to
Dover. As soon as they neared the coast, the Bishop of Winchester,
attended by the garrison of Dover and the people of the town, came forth
to meet them, singing psalms and praising God for the victory that had
been vouchsafed to them. The news of Hubert de Burgh’s success at sea
ran quickly through the country; and Prince Louis, and the captains who
commanded the castles which he held, learned with dismay that the great
armament fitted out by Blanche of Castile, and intended to complete the
conquest of England, no longer existed. Louis and his captains trembled
at the perils of their position, as they well might, for the destruction
of the armament commanded by Eustace the Monk was not the only blow
which Fortune had struck at the enterprise on which the heir of France
had ventured at the request of the Anglo-Norman barons.