As the ship struck, the stout-hearted captain hastily lowered a boat, and placing the prince with a few of his friends therein, entreated him to make for the shore without delay. The devotion of Fitz-Stephen was, however, without avail. William heard the screams of his sister Marie, who had been left on board the vessel, and he commanded the boat to be put back to save her. When the order was obeyed, the terrified passengers threw themselves into the boat in such numbers that the frail bark was immediately upset, and all who were in it perished. In a few moments more the ship was also engulfed beneath the waters. The only trace which remained of the wreck was the main-yard, to which two men clung with the tenacity of despair; one of these was a butcher of Rouen, named Berauld, and the other a young man of higher birth, named Godfrey, the son of Gilbert de l'Aigle. Fitz-Stephen, the captain, after falling into the water, rose to the surface, and swam towards the two men who were clinging to the spar. "The king's son!" he cried, "what has become of him?" "We have seen nothing of him," was the reply; "neither he nor any of his companions have appeared above water." "Woe is me!" the captain exclaimed, and sank to rise no more. It was in the month of November, and the coldness of the water fast numbed the limbs of the younger of the two survivors, who at length let go his hold, and committing his companion to the mercy of Heaven, disappeared beneath the waves. Berauld, the butcher, the poorest of all those who had set sail in the _Blanche Nef_, was the only one who survived to tell the story of the shipwreck. Wrapped in his sheepskin coat, he supported himself until daybreak, when he was seen by some fishermen, who rescued him from his perilous situation. This occurred on the 26th of November, 1120. [Illustration: SHIPWRECK OF PRINCE WILLIAM. (_See p._ 163.)] The news reached England on the following day, but no man dared tell the king of his bereavement. At length the courtiers tutored the young son of Count Theobald of Blois, who was sent in to the king, and, falling at his feet, told him of the loss of the _Blanche Nef_, with all on board. Henry is said to have fainted at the news, and the historians agree in dwelling upon the grief he felt--a grief so rooted that he was never afterwards seen to smile.