“The Duke of Normandy advanced from Angiers with an army of 5000 men-at-arms and a numerous infantry, and after capturing the castle of Chantoceaux marched to Nantes and laid siege to the city. A sortie was made by the besieged, led by Henry de Leon, but, being attacked by the whole of the French army, they were driven back into the town, a great many of the citizens being killed. A warm altercation took place between Henry de Leon and De Montford, who attributed to him the evil result of the sortie. The result was that a large number of the citizens whose friends had been captured by the French conspired to deliver up the place to Charles of Blois, and Henry de Leon also entered into private negotiations with the Duke of Normandy. De Montford, finding that he could rely neither upon the citizens nor the soldiers, surrendered to the duke on condition that his life was spared. He was sent to Paris, where he still remains a prisoner. Winter was coming on, and after putting Nantes in a fresh state of defence and leaving Charles of Blois there, the Duke of Normandy dismissed his forces, engaging them to reassemble in the spring. Had he pushed on at once he would have experienced no resistance, so great was the panic which the surrender of Nantes and the capture of De Montford had caused among the latter's partisans. “In Rennes, especially, the deepest despondency was felt. The countess, however, showed the greatest courage and firmness. Showing herself, with her infant in her arms, she appealed to the citizens, and by her courageous bearing inspired them with new hopes. Having restored heart at Rennes she traveled from garrison to garrison throughout the province, and filled all with vigour and resolution. Feeling, however, the hopelessness of her struggle against all France, she despatched Sir Almeric de Clisson, who had lately joined her party, to England, to ask the aid which the king had promised. He arrived a month since, and, as you see, our brave king has not been long in despatching us to her aid; and now, youngsters, to bed, for methinks that the sea is rougher than it was and that the wind is getting up.” “Aye, that is it,” the captain, who heard the knight's closing words, exclaimed. “We are in for a storm, and a heavy one, or my name is not Timothy Martin, and though with plenty of sea-room the Kitty makes not much ado about a storm more or less, it's a very different thing in the middle of a fleet of lubberly craft, which may run one down at any time. I shall edge out of them as soon as I can, you may be sure.” Before morning a serious gale was blowing, and for the next three or four days Walter and his companions knew nothing of what was going on. Then the storm abated, and they staggered out from their cabin. The sea was still high, but the sun shone brightly overhead. In front of them the land was visible. They looked round, but to their astonishment not a sail was in sight.