eir old camp, found that they were a prey
to the worst calamities, and, no longer hesitating, decided on a day for
returning to Damietta.

Unfortunately for the armed pilgrims, their resolution was no secret to
the Saracens, and when Touran Chah became aware of their intended
movement down the Nile, he devised measures to intercept them. He
himself harangued his soldiers, distributed money and provisions,
reinforced them with Arabs attracted to his standard by the prospect of
booty, and ordered boats with troops on board to descend the river, and
join the fleet already there; while bodies of light horse were placed on
all the roads by which the Crusaders were likely to make good their
retreat.

Nevertheless, the Crusaders, finding their present position desperate,
persevered in their resolution, and Tuesday, the 5th of April, was
appointed for the perilous enterprise. On the arrival of that day, the
sick, the wounded, the women, and the children, were embarked on the
Nile, and, at the same time, several French nobles, and the papal
legate, got on board a vessel. No doubt seems to have existed that Louis
might have saved himself. Even the Arabian historians admit that the
French king might have escaped, either in a boat or on horseback, if he
would have abandoned his army. But, with characteristic generosity, he
distinctly refused to separate his fate from theirs. Anxious about his
safety, the soldiers ran along the bank, shouting to the boatmen not to
set sail till the king embarked.

'Wait for the king--wait for the king!' cried they.

'No,' said Louis, his heart touched, but his resolution firm; 'go on. I
will share weal or woe with my soldiers. I am not such a niggard of
life, that I grudge to risk it in such company, and in such a cause.'

And now the boats began to descend the Nile; and at the same time the
Duke of Burgundy, having broken up his camp, about nightfall commenced a
retreat towards Damietta. But at this stage, the French were guilty of a
piece of negligence that was destined to cost them dear. The king had
ordered the wooden bridge over the Achmoun to be destroyed. In their
agitation and haste, the French paid no attention to the order. In vain
Bisset, the English knight, protested against such insane indifference
to a manifest peril.

'My masters,' said he, bluntly, 'we can hardly be deemed otherwise than
madmen, if we leave that bridge standing as it is, to afford the
Saracens a safe passage o