“It would, my lord earl, be perhaps better,” Cuthbert said, “if I might venture to advise, to leave the matter alone.  No doubt the count would say that he had discharged his page after the tournament, and that the latter was only carrying out his private feud with me.  We should not be able to disprove the story, and should gain no satisfaction by the matter.”

The earl admitted the justice of Cuthbert’s reasoning, but reserved to himself the task of punishing the author of the outrage upon the first fitting opportunity.

There was a weary delay at Marseilles before the expedition set sail.  This was caused by the fact of the English fleet, which had been ordered to be there upon their arrival, failing to keep the agreement.

The words English fleet badly describe the vessels which were to carry the English contingent to their destination.  They were ships belonging to the maritime nations of Italy—­the Venetians, Genoese, Pisans, etc.; for England at that time had but few of her own, and these scarcely fitted for the stormy navigation of the Bay of Biscay.

King Richard, impatient as ever of delay, at last lost his temper, and embarked on board a ship with a few of his chosen knights, and set sail by himself for Sicily, the point at which the two armies of the expedition were to reunite.  A few days after his departure the long-looked-for fleet arrived, and a portion of the English host embarked at once, and set sail for Sicily, where they were to be landed, and the ships were to return to fetch the remaining contingent.

A sea voyage of this kind in those days was a serious matter.  Long voyages were rare, and troops were carried very much upon the principle of herrings; that is, were packed as close as they could be, without any reference to their comfort.  As the voyages seldom lasted more than twenty-four hours, this did not much matter, but during long voyages the discomforts, or as may be said sufferings, of the troops were considerable.  So tightly packed were the galleys in which the English set sail from Marseilles that there was no walking about.  Every man slept where he sat, and considered himself lucky indeed if he could obtain room sufficient to stretch himself at full length.  Most slept sitting against bulwarks or other supports.  In the cabins, where the knights, their pages and squires were placed, the crowding was of course less excessive, but even here the amount of space, which a subaltern traveling to India for the first time nowadays would grumble at, was considered amply sufficient for half a dozen knights of distinction.  It was a week after sailing, when Cnut touched Cuthbert’s arm as he came on deck one morning, and said: 

“Look, look, Cuthbert! that mountain standing up in the water has caught fire on the top.  Did you ever see such a thing?”

The soldiers crowded to the side of the vessel in intense astonishment and no little awe.  From the top of a lofty and rugged hill, rising almost straight from the sea, flames were roaring up, smoke hung over the island, and stones were thrown into the air and rattled down the side of the hill, or fell into the sea with a splash.