At break of the next day the French began the assault. Queen Marguerite’s bark was alone left at a distance, whence she might watch the fight. The knights stood, lance in hand, beside their horses on the broad barges, some of which were propelled by as many as three hundred rowers. At word of command the fleet seemed to be lifted by the innumerable oars and to be fairly hurled upon the shore. Before they could land the daylight became obscured with showers of arrows, javelins, and stones, that poured upon them from the banks. For a moment the fleet was retarded by the deluge of missiles that smote the rowers, but the king’s quick command redoubled their strokes. As the vessels grounded on the beach he himself led the assault, leaping into the sea shoulder-deep with sword in hand. The whole army emulated his heroism, and with the cry, “Montjoie! St. Denis!” plunged into the water. The attack was as when the sea itself assails the land with tidal wave. The Moslems were driven back. The crusaders completed their array on solid ground, but scarcely were they in battle order before the Moslem cavalry rode down upon them with the noise and speed of a sirocco from the neighboring desert. Amid the terrible mêlée Louis bent his knees a moment on the sands, anew giving himself to the will of Heaven, then dashed into the thickest of the fight. The shore ran with rills of blood, which incarnadined the sea. Steadily the oriflamme of France mounted the beach. The war-galleys made an equally furious assault upon the Moslem navy. With the impetuous ramming of the tough prows of the French vessels many a ship filled with Egyptian warriors was sent to the bottom. The cross gained the mouth of the river, up which its defenders fled. By nightfall the coast and both banks of the Nile had been gained, and under the stars of Egypt the Christian camp resounded with the Te Deum and shouts of victory. The joy of the Christians was soon mingled with wonder. The horizon to the south of them suddenly seemed on fire. The scouts, approaching Damietta in the early dawn, discovered that its walls were like the crater of some vast volcano pouring up clouds of smoke shot through with flashes of flame. The gates of the town were wide open. Entering cautiously, they found the streets filled with newly slaughtered multitudes. It would seem that the panic of the Moslems had left them neither heart nor wit for the defence of their stronghold. In the blindness of their rage they had put to death multitudes of Christians, and the Christians, in the frenzy of their despair, had slain their Moslem neighbors. Fakr Eddin, the commandant, had given orders to fire the houses, mosques, and fortifications, consuming everything, that the crusaders might not profit by their victory.