And there all
day, and day after day, there was bustle and crowding and labor,
while the great ships loaded up, and one after the other spread
their white pinions and darted off to the open sea, amid the
clash of cymbals and rolling of drums and lusty shouts of those
who went and of those who waited. From Orwell to the Dart there
was no port which did not send forth its little fleet, gay with
streamer and bunting, as for a joyous festival. Thus in the
season of the waning days the might of England put forth on to
the waters.
In the ancient and populous county of Hampshire there was no lack
of leaders or of soldiers for a service which promised either
honor or profit. In the north the Saracen's head of the Brocas
and the scarlet fish of the De Roches were waving over a strong
body of archers from Holt, Woolmer, and Harewood forests. De
Borhunte was up in the east, and Sir John de Montague in the
west. Sir Luke de Ponynges, Sir Thomas West, Sir Maurice de
Bruin, Sir Arthur Lipscombe, Sir Walter Ramsey, and stout Sir
Oliver Buttesthorn were all marching south with levies from
Andover, Arlesford, Odiham and Winchester, while from Sussex came
Sir John Clinton, Sir Thomas Cheyne, and Sir John Fallislee, with
a troop of picked men-at-arms, making for their port at
Southampton.
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