Every man on board the "White Ship" was startled by that shock into instant sobriety. The brave Fitz-Stephen left the now useless helm, and rushed to where the prince, entrusted to his care, was clinging to the mast of the fast-filling vessel. With his own hand he cut loose the small boat which she carried, and by sheer force placed William in it, and a few of the crew. "Row for the shore!" he shouted to the men, waving his hand; "lose not a moment!" William, stupefied and bewildered, sat motionless and speechless. The men had already dipped their oars, and the frail boat was already clear of the sinking vessel, when there fell on the prince's ear the piercing shriek of a girl. Looking behind him, he saw his poor sister clinging to the deck of the doomed ship, and stretching a hand appealingly in the direction of his boat. In an instant his senses returned to him. "Put back, men!" he cried, frantically. "It is certain death!" cried one of the crew. "Must William the Atheling order a thing twice?" thundered the prince, in a tone so terrible, that the men immediately turned and made for the wreck. "My sister!" shouted William, as they came under the spot where Adela clung; "throw yourself into my arms!" She did so; but, alas! at the same moment, fifty more, in the desperation of terror, jumped too, and the little boat, with all that were in her, turned over, and was seen no more. Then the waters poured over the "White Ship," and with a great plunge that gallant vessel went down. With her went down all the souls she carried save three. One of these was the brave Fitz-Stephen. Rising to the surface, he saw the two others clinging to a spar. Eagerly he swam towards them. "Is the prince saved?" he asked. "We have seen nothing of him," replied they. "Then woe is me!" exclaimed he, as he turned in the water and sank beneath it. Of the other two, one only, a butcher, survived to carry the dreadful news to England. For many days, Henry, impatient for his son's arrival, waited in ignorance of his sad fate. Then went to him a little child, who, instructed what to say, told him in his own artless way the whole story; and King Henry the First, so they say, after he had heard it, was never seen to smile again. CHAPTER TWENTY. JOHN PLANTAGENET, THE BOY WHO BROKE HIS FATHER'S HEART. A youth was pacing restlessly to and fro in a wood bordering on the old town of Tours, in France. He was scarcely twenty years of age, and of a forbidding countenance. Cruelty and cunning were stamped on his features, and as he strode aimlessly among the trees, muttering to himself, and striking often with his sheathed sword at the bushes and twigs in his path, he seemed to be the victim of an evil passion, with nothing to make a man love him or desire his acquaintance. His muttering not unfrequently rose to the pitch of talking aloud, when one might have heard sentences like these.