"Your speed will not be of much avail," Sir John Powis said, "seeing that the fleet will keep together."

"Yes, I know that is the order," the captain answered; "but accidents happen sometimes, you know" - and his eye twinkled. "Vessels get separated from fleets. If they happen to be slow ones so much the worse for those on board; if they happen to be fast ones so much the better, seeing that those they carry will arrive long before their comrades, and may be enabled to gain credit and renown while the others are whistling for a wind in mid-ocean. However, we shall see.

The next morning the fleet sailed from the Orwell. It contained 620 men-at-arms, among whom were many of the noblest and bravest of the country, and 6000 picked archers in the pay of the king. The whole were commanded by Sir Walter. The scene was a very gay one. The banners of the nobles and knights floated from the lofty poops, and the sun shone on bright armour and steel weapons. Walter, who had never seen the sea before, was delighted. The wind was fair, and the vessels glided smoothly along over the sea. At evening the knight and his four young companions gathered in the little cabin, for it was in the first week in March, and the night was cold.