Upon the following day, therefore, Cuthbert to his confusion found himself the center of the royal circle.  The king expressed himself to him in the most gracious manner, patting him on the shoulder, and said that he would be one day one of the best and bravest of his knights.  The princess and the Queen of Navarre gave him their hands to kiss, and somewhat overwhelmed, he withdrew from the royal presence, the center of attention, and, in some minds, of envy.

Cnut too did not pass unrewarded.

His majesty, finding that Cnut was of gentle Saxon blood, gave him a gold chain in token of his favor, and distributed a heavy purse among the men who had followed him.

When the British fleet, numbering two hundred ships, set sail from Sicily, it was a grand and martial sight.  From the masts were the colors of England and those of the nobles who commanded; while the pennons of the knights, the bright plumes and mantles, the flash of armor and arms made the decks alive with light and color.

The king’s ship advanced in the van, and round him were the vessels containing his principal followers.  The Queen of Navarre and the Princess Berengaria were with the fleet.  Strains of music rose from the waters, and never were the circumstances of war exhibited in a more picturesque form.

For two days the expedition sailed on, and then a change of a sudden and disastrous kind took place.

“What is all this bustle about?” Cuthbert said to Cnut.  “The sailors are running up the ladders, all seems confusion.”

“Methinks,” said Cnut, “that we are about to have a storm.  A few minutes ago scarce a cloud was to be seen; now that bank over there has risen halfway up the sky.  The sailors are accustomed to these treacherous seas, and the warnings which we have not noticed have no doubt been clear enough to them.”

With great rapidity the sails of the fleet came down, and in five minutes its whole aspect was changed; but quickly as the sailors had done their work, the storm was even more rapid in its progress.  Some of the ships whose crews were slower or less skillful than the others were caught by the gale before they could get their sails snug, and the great sheets of white canvas were blown from the bolt-ropes as if made of paper, and a blackness which could almost be felt covered the sea, the only light being that given by the frothing waters.  There was no longer any thought of order.  Each ship had to shift for herself; and each captain to do his best to save those under his charge, without thought of what might befall the others.