But the assailants were in the same predicament as were the Romans when they attacked the lofty ships of the Veneti. The sides of the _Dromon_ towered far over their heads, and do what they would they could not get on board her. The Turks had thrown a grapnel and made fast to the King's galley at the very beginning of the fight. Greek fire and missiles of all kinds rained upon the heads of the English, fully exposed on the decks and benches of their low galleys. The apparent hopelessness of their situation began to affect the efforts of the Crusaders. Richard saw that "something must be done", and he rose to the occasion. "Will ye now suffer that ship to get off untouched and uninjured?" he shouted. "Oh, shame! after so many triumphs do ye now give way to sloth and fear? Know that if this ship escape, every one of you shall be hung on the cross or put to extreme torture!" That was _his_ way of bestowing the cross--a wooden one, not an "iron" one! But it had its effect. The galley-men dived overboard, and, fastening ropes to the enemy's rudder, "steered her as they pleased". It is rather difficult to understand the precise advantage gained by his manoeuvre, unless the wind had sprung up and the big Turkish vessel was gathering a good deal of way and dragging the whole press of galleys along with her, and that many were in danger of being swamped. However, after this they were able to climb up her sides by means of ropes, and a desperate hand-to-hand conflict took place on her decks. Here the martial prowess of the Crusaders had full play. Wielding their heavy trenchant swords, they drove the Saracens right forward into the bows of the ship; but just when they thought victory was in their grasp, up came a torrent of fresh assailants from below, and in such overwhelming numbers that the boarders were hurled back into their galleys.