'In the year 1379, an expedition was fitted out by King Richard II., in the second year of his reign, in aid of the Duke of Bretagne, under the command of "Dominus Johannes Arundell," as old Thomas Walsingham, a learned monk of St. Albans, calls him.[24] On their way, after repulsing the French fleet off the coast of Cornwall, and whilst waiting for a favourable wind to cross the Channel, the commander of the expedition besought the hospitality of a certain convent of nuns (according to one account, at Netley), the lady superintendent of which very properly refused it to so rough and ready a band of military as composed Arundell's following. She besought most earnestly, "prostrata," and "conjunctis manibus," that he would find quarters for his men elsewhere, but all in vain. Scenes of a most disgraceful and violent character ensued, as might have been expected; and, not content with doing foul dishonour to the nuns, the soldiery were permitted to spoil the neighbourhood. They even went so far as to carry off from the convent the sacred vessels of its church, and several of the sisterhood as well ("vi vel sponte"), whereupon they were most righteously excommunicated by the priest. A violent tempest pursued them for their misdoings, a diabolical spectre appearing in Arundell's ship, threatening the dire disasters which followed. The unhappy women were flung overboard to lighten the ships, which at length made the coast of Ireland, upon which event Arundell made a speech concluding thus, according to the chronicler: '"Minus grave est hoc quam in mare totiens ante mortem mori, et tandem mortem dedecorosam evadere nullo modo posse. Aut si inimici sunt qui in hac terra sunt, citius eligo per manus hostiles interfici (forsitan cadaveri sepulturam indulgebunt) quam more pecoris marinis mergi fluctibus, et fieri pelagi monstris cibus."' But the swashbuckler was doomed not to escape as he had hoped, though finally he was to receive the sort of burial which he so evidently desired. His ship was driven on the rocks, and her ship-master and Sir John Arundell of Treleigh were drowned, together with his esquires and other men of high birth. Many were rescued by the Irish, but twenty-five ships in all were lost, and large numbers of their crews. Three days afterwards many of the bodies were recovered, amongst them those of Arundell, and were buried in a certain abbey in Ireland.[25] As Froissart's account differs from the foregoing in some particulars, I have appended a translation of it for the convenience of those who may desire to compare the two: it will be noticed that Froissart entirely omits the story of the desecration of the convent.