the fog for a little and we saw that we were in the midst of a
great fleet, a French fleet, for the Lilies of France flew at their
mast-heads, saw, too, that their prows were set for Hastings, though
for the while they were becalmed, since the wind that was enough for our
light, large-sailed fishing-boat could not stir their bulk. Moreover,
they saw us, for the men-at-arms on the nearest ship shouted threats and
curses at us and followed the shouts with arrows that almost hit us.

Then the fog closed down again, and in it we slipped through the French
fleet.

It may have been the best part of an hour later that we reached
Hastings. Before the boat was made fast to the jetty, I sprang to it
shouting:

"Stir! stir! the French are upon you! To arms! We have slipped through a
whole fleet of them in the mist."

Instantly the sleepy quay seemed to awaken. From the neighbouring fish
market, from everywhere sailormen and others came running, followed by
children with gaping mouths, while from the doors of houses far away
shot women with scared faces, like ferreted rabbits from their burrows.
In a minute the crowd had surrounded me, all asking questions at once in
such a fashion that I could only answer them with my cry of:

"Stir! the French are upon you. To arms, I say. To arms!"

Presently through the throng advanced an old white-bearded man who wore
a badge of office, crying as he came, "Make way for the bailiff!"