The winds had ever seemed malignant to Margaret of Anjou, but never
more than now. So long a continuance of stormy and adverse weather
was never known in the memory of man; and we believe that it has
scarcely its parallel in history.

The earl's promise to restore King Henry was fulfilled in October.
From November to the following April, Margaret, with the young and
royal pair, and the Countess of Warwick, lay at the seaside, waiting
for a wind. [Fabyan, 502.] Thrice, in defiance of all warnings from
the mariners of Harfleur, did she put to sea, and thrice was she
driven back on the coast of Normandy, her ships much damaged. Her
friends protested that this malice of the elements was caused by
sorcery, [Hall, Warkworth Chronicle]--a belief which gained ground in
England, exhilarated the Duchess of Bedford, and gave new fame to
Bungey, who arrogated all the merit, and whose weather wisdom, indeed,
had here borne out his predictions. Many besought Margaret not to
tempt Providence, not to trust the sea; but the queen was firm to her
purpose, and her son laughed at omens,--yet still the vessels could
only leave the harbour to be driven back upon the land.

Day after day the first question of Warwick, when the sun rose, was,
"How sets the wind?" Night after night, ere he retired to rest, "Ill
sets the wind!" sighed the earl. The gales that forbade the coming of
the royal party sped to the unwilling lingerers courier after courier,
envoy after envoy; and at length Warwick, unable to bear the sickening
suspense at distance, went himself to Dover [Hall], and from its white
cliffs looked, hour by hour, for the sails which were to bear
"Lancaster and its fortunes." The actual watch grew more intolerable
than the distant expectation, and the earl sorrowfully departed to his