promise, bribe, and buy again; and by those
means, and by the help of the Pope who
exerted himself to save more bloodshed, and by
solemnly declaring, over and over again, that
he really was in earnest this time, and would
keep his word, the King made peace.

One of the first consequences of this peace
was, that the King went over to Normandy
with his son Prince William and a great
retinue, to have the Prince acknowledged as
his successor by the Norman Nobles, and to
contract the promised marriage (this was one
of the many promises the King had broken)
between him and the daughter of the Count
of Anjou. Both these things were triumphantly
done, with great show and rejoicing;
and on the twenty-fifth of November, in the
year one thousand one hundred and twenty,
the whole retinue prepared to embark at the
Port of Barfleur, for the voyage home.

On that day, and at that place, there came to
the King, Fitz-Stephen, a sea-captain, and said:

"My liege, my father served your father
all his life, upon the sea. He steered the
ship with the golden boy upon the prow, in
which your father sailed to conquer England.
I beseech you to grant me the same office.
I have a fair vessel in the harbor here, called
The White Ship, manned by fifty sailors of
renown. I pray you, Sire, to let your servant
have the honor of steering you in The White
Ship to England!"

"I am sorry, friend," replied the King,
"that my vessel is already chosen, and that
I cannot (therefore) sail with the son of the
man who served my father. But, the Prince
and all his company shall go along with you,
in the fair White Ship, manned by the fifty
sailors of renown."

An hour or two afterwards, the King set
sail in the vessel he had chosen, accompanied
by other vessels, and sailing all night with a
fair and gentle wind, arrived upon the coast of
England in the morning. While it was yet
night the people in some of those ships heard
a faint wild cry come over the sea, and
wondered what it was.

Now, the Prince was a dissolute, debauched
young man of eighteen, who bore no love
to the English, and had declared that
when he came to the throne he would yoke
them to the plough like oxen. He went
aboard The White Ship, with one hundred
and forty youthful Nobles like himself, among
whom were eighteen noble ladies of the
highest rank. All this gay company, with their
servants and the fifty sailors, made three
hundred souls aboard the fair White Ship.

"Give three casks of wine, Fitz-Stephen,"
said the Prince, "to the fifty sailors of renown!
My father the King has sailed out of the
harbor. What time is there, to make merry
here, and yet reach England with the rest?"

"Prince," said Fitz-Stephen, "before morning,
my fifty and the White Ship shall overtake
the swiftest vessel in attendance on your
father the King, if we sail at midnight!"

Then, the Prince commanded to make merry,
and the sailors drank out the three casks of
wine, and the Prince and all the noble
company danced in the moonlight on the
deck of The White Ship.

When at last she shot out of the harbor of
Barfleur, there was not a sober seaman on
board. But, the sails were all set, and the
oars all going merrily. Fitz-Stephen had the
helm. The gay young nobles and the
beautiful ladies, wrapped in mantles of various
bright colors to protect them from the cold,
talked, laughed and sang. The Prince
encouraged the fifty sailors to row harder yet,
for the honor of The White Ship.

Crash! A terrific cry broke from three
hundred hearts. It was the cry the people in
the distant vessels of the King heard faintly
on the water. The White Ship had struck
upon a rock—was filling—going down!

Fitz-Stephen hurried the Prince into a
boat, with some few Nobles. "Push off,"
he whispered; "and row to the land. It is
not far, and the sea is smooth. The rest of
us must die."

But, as they rowed away, fast, from the
sinking ship, the Prince heard the voice of
his sister MARIE, the Countess of Perche,
calling for help. He never in his life had
been so good as he was then. He cried in an
agony, "Row back at any risk! I cannot bear
to leave her!"

They rowed back. As the Prince held out
his arms to catch his sister, such numbers
leaped in, that the boat was overset. And in
the same instant The White Ship went down.

Only two men floated. They both clung to
the main-yard of the ship, which had broken
from the mast, and now supported them.
One asked the other who he was? He said,
"I am a nobleman, GODFREY by name, the
son of GILBERT DE L'AIGLE. And you?"
said he. "I am BEROLD, a poor butcher of
Rouen," was the answer. Then, they said
together, "Lord be merciful to us both!"
and tried to encourage one another as they
drifted in the cold benumbing sea on that
unfortunate November night.

By-and-by, another man came swimming
towards them, whom they knew, when he
pushed aside his long wet hair, to be Fitz-
Stephen. "Where is the Prince?" said he.
"Gone! Gone!" the two cried together.
"Neither he, nor his brother, nor his sister,
nor the King's niece, nor her brother, nor
any one of all the brave three hundred, noble
or commoner, except we three, has risen
above the water!" Fitz-Stephen, with a
ghastly face, cried, "Woe! woe, to me!"
and sunk to the bottom.

The other two clung to the yard for some
hours. At length the young noble said
faintly, "I am exhausted, and chilled with
the cold, and can hold no longer. Farewell,
good friend! God preserve you!" So, he
dropped and sunk; and of all the brilliant
crowd the poor Butcher of Rouen alone was