"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 scarlet
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 perilous 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.
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