Already they had been seen from the beach. The country folk, who were
prowling about the shore after the waifs of the storm, deserted "jetsom
and lagend," and crowded to meet the richer prize which was coming in
"flotsom," to become "jetsom" in its turn.
"Axe-men and bow-men, put on your harness, and be ready; but neither
strike nor shoot till I give the word. We must land peaceably if we can;
if not, we will die fighting."
So said Hereward, and took the rudder into his own hand. "Now then," as
she rushed into the breakers, "pull together, rowers all, and with a
will."
The men yelled, and sprang from the thwarts as they tugged at the oars.
The sea boiled past them, surged into the waist, blinded them with spray.
She grazed the sand once, twice, thrice, leaping forward gallantly each
time; and then, pressed by a huge wave, drove high and dry upon the beach,
as the oars snapt right and left, and the men tumbled over each other in
heaps.
The peasants swarmed down like flies to a carcass; but they recoiled as
there rose over the forecastle bulwarks, not the broad hats of peaceful
buscarles, but peaked helmets, round red shields, and glittering axes.
They drew back, and one or two arrows flew from the crowd into the ship.
But at Hereward's command no arrows were shot in answer.
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