ship that its mangled and distorted
limbs grazed their very stern. As to the stone, it glanced off obliquely
and fell midway between the vessels. A roar of cheering and of laughter
broke from the rough archers and seamen at the sight, answered by a yell
of rage from their pursuers.

"Lie low, mes enfants," cried Aylward, motioning with his left hand.
"They will learn wisdom. They are bringing forward shield and mantlet.
We shall have some pebbles about our ears ere long."

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

The three vessels had been sweeping swiftly westwards, the cog still
well to the front, although the galleys were slowly drawing in upon
either quarter. To the left was a hard skyline unbroken by a sail. The
island already lay like a cloud behind them, while right in front
was St. Alban's Head, with Portland looming mistily in the farthest
distance. Alleyne stood by the tiller, looking backwards, the fresh wind
full in his teeth, the crisp winter air tingling on his face and blowing
his yellow curls from under his bassinet. His cheeks were flushed and
his eyes shining, for the blood of a hundred fighting Saxon ancestors
was beginning to stir in his veins.

"What was that?" he asked, as a hissing, sharp-drawn voice seemed to
whisper in his ear. The steersman smiled, and pointed with his foot to
where a short heavy cross-bow quarrel stuck quivering in the boards.
At the same instant the man stumbled forward upon his knees, and lay
lifeless upon the deck, a blood-stained feather jutting out from his
back. As Alleyne stooped to raise him, the air seemed to be alive with
the sharp zip-zip of the bolts, and he could hear them pattering on the
deck like apples at a tree-shaking.

"Raise two more mantlets by the poop-lanthorn," said Sir Nigel quietly.

"And another man to the tiller," cried the master-shipman.

"Keep them in play, Aylward, with ten of your men," the knight
continued. "And let ten of Sir Oliver's bowmen do as much for the
Genoese. I have no mind as yet to show them how much they have to fear
from us."

Ten picked shots under Aylward stood in line across the broad deck, and
it was a lesson to the young squires who had seen nothing of war to note
how orderly and how cool were these old soldiers, how quick the command,
and how prompt the carrying out, ten moving like one. Their comrades
crouched beneath the bulwarks, with many a rough jest and many a scrap
of criticism