The voyage, however, had not been long before they discovered that the saddles had been the safer mode of conveyance. The wind, though low, was not unfavourable: but they had scarcely passed Portland when they were met by the very enemy from whom they were endeavouring to escape. As they rounded the little peninsula, ships of war stood before them, with King Edward’s standard and Lord Rivers’ pennon flying from the masthead.
An evil augury for Warwick was that pennon. With any weaker commander, the fleet would have obeyed its Lord High Admiral, as Warwick had been created a year before. But Lord Rivers was a conscientious man of one idea, and he thoroughly believed in Edward’s right. The ships joined battle, and the ladies of course were kept below.
Oh for that little white bed and Dorathie!
Never till then had Frideswide Marston looked death in the face, and never after that day could she be as she had been, again.
Warwick was a less honest and true-hearted man than Rivers, but he was also a better general. The battle was short and sharp, but the victory remained in the hands of Warwick. His ships got safely away, but they were not by any means out of their troubles. It seemed as though both God and man were against them that night. Before they could reach Beachy Head, there came on them a terrific tempest, and they were tossed up and down in the Channel like toys of the storm. To add to all other distresses, the Duchess of Clarence, whose mental energy had hitherto borne her through her physical sufferings, sank beneath them at last, and became alarmingly ill. It was not until the morning of the fourth day that they found themselves off Calais, and a few hours before, the Duchess had given birth to a child which had not survived the event many minutes. But Calais was Warwick’s old home; he had been Governor of the town for years. Here, at least, he might hope for rest and aid.
They cast anchor under shelter of Cape Grisnez, and sent John Wright ashore in a little boat to notify to Vauclere, Warwick’s deputy in command, that his master was about to land.
Warwick himself paced the quarter-deck impatiently. What were those sluggards ashore doing, that his own state barge was not sent off at once to land the ladies? Why did Vauclere not appear, cap in hand, to express his satisfaction at the return of his master? When at last he saw his squire return alone, Warwick’s patience, never very extensive, failed him utterly.