tent to arm himself. The others were quick to do the same as trumpets blared from galley to galley, signaling that battle was about to be joined with the massive Saracen ship.
It ought to have been able to outrun the English galleys. But the wind had dropped suddenly and its sails hung limply, slowing it enough so that they could keep pace. As soon as they overtook it, they swarmed the great ship like dogs set loose at a bearbaiting. Their oarsmen laboring at their posts, the galleys circled the buss. Each time they tried to get close enough to force a boarding, though, the Saracen sailors and soldiers drove them off with an unrelenting hail of arrows and bolts. Even when the more daring sailors braved the fire and reached the buss, they were thwarted by its steep, high sides, their low-riding galleys dwarfed by the sheer size of the Saracen ship, their grappling hooks and ropes falling short.
Most of Richard’s knights were facing their first sea battle, and were willing to defer to the sailors, who were as comfortable on a pitching deck as the knights were on horseback. Morgan had never doubted his own courage, but he was awed now by the bravery of the crewmen, willing to scale those cliffsides while coming under heavy fire. He was worried, too, about Richard’s safety, fearful the king would join in that hazardous assault, clad in full armor that could drag him down like an anchor. It would have been sheer madness for Richard to try it—and unforgivably irresponsible, for his death could well doom the crusade. And yet Morgan knew Richard well enough by now to be sure he would seek to board the buss if given half a chance. He was greatly relieved, therefore, when he realized that others shared his concern. Richard was so busy shouting encouragement and firing a crossbow whenever a Saracen came into sight that he didn’t notice how adroitly the helmsman steered their galley, keeping it in the midst of the action but never quite close enough to attempt a boarding.
Exhausted and disheartened, the crews of the galleys finally drew back out of bowshot, at a loss what to do next, for the Saracen ship was proving to be as impregnable as a heavily fortified castle. Several of the galleys rowed over to the Sea-Cleaver to consult with the king, their masters asking Richard if they should continue with the attack.
Richard was astonished that the question would even be raised. “Are you serious? This is a Turkish ship, loaded with soldiers, weapons, and supplies. If it reaches Acre, God alone knows how much longer the garrison can hold out. Are the lot of you turning into cowards? If you let them escape, you all deserve to be hanged!”
Morgan gaped at the king, then sidled over to André, who was reloading a crossbow. “He would not really do that, would he?”
André seemed grimly amused. “Richard is given to bloodcurdling threats whenever defeat looms. He has never carried any of them out, though, and his men know that. But they’d best find a way to board that ship, for we cannot let it get away, not with so much at stake.”
The sailors had reached the same conclusion, and despair now gave way to inspiration, for they came up with a scheme that was as daring as it was imaginative. Returning to the attack, they distracted the crew of the Saracen ship while several men stripped to their braies and plunged into the sea, clutching coils of rope. Diving under the buss, they came up sputtering and swam back to their galleys. Richard leaned over the gunwale, never taking his eyes from the swimmers, and then burst out laughing. “Clever lads, they tied up the rudder!”
His guess proved to be correct, and the knights began to cheer as the buss listed suddenly to starboard. No longer responding to the tiller, the ship wallowed in the waves, turning in a circle as the helmsman sought desperately to regain control. Taking advantage of the confusion onboard, some of the oarsmen rowed toward the stern, flung their grappling hooks into the tarpaulin hanging over the sides, and managed to scramble up onto the deck.
What followed was the most vicious hand-to-hand fighting that Morgan had ever seen. The Saracen crew might be infidels doomed to eternal damnation, but he thought that none could fault their courage. The deck was soon slick with blood and men fell overboard or were