This energetic language, the example of their chiefs, the impression, slowly asserting itself, of the vast numerical inferiority of the French, and the bray of the trumpets of the garrison of St. Privé that was hastening to the rescue, gradually revived the courage of the English. Shame and rage at their threatened defeat presently changed their panic into a furious exaltation. They closed ranks and took the offensive. Despite all the prodigies of valor on the part of their adversaries, they, in turn, now forced them to retreat in disorder. In the midst of the maddening struggle Joan would certainly have been killed but for the devotion of Master John and some twenty other determined men. With their bodies they made a rampart around her, determined to preserve her life that was so dear to them all. The ground was defended inch by inch. Every moment the handful of men grew thinner. Ten of them, fighting to her left, were scattered and crushed by the opposing numbers. During the movement of retreat Joan was driven despite herself towards the Loire, and already a few distracted men were heard crying: "To the barges! Save himself who can! To the barges! The battle is lost!" The triumphant English pursued the Maid with jeers and their accustomed insults. They pushed forward, crying: "Strumpet!" "Cowherd!" "Thief!" "We shall now capture and burn you, witch!" The panic had now completely seized the ranks of the French. They no longer fought but fled wildly towards the Loire. In vain did the Maid seek to rally them. Suddenly and obedient to an inspiration of her genius, instead of resisting the current that was carrying her away, she outran it and overtook the swiftest fleers, waving her standard. These followed and rallied around her and thus naturally and perforce order was gradually restored. During this move, the jeers, imprecations and insults of the English, hurled at the Maid, redoubled in volume, especially when they saw the skippers, witnessing the French defeat, share the general panic, raise the sails of their barges, the only means of retreat for the French, and push off from the shore out of fear of being boarded by the vanquishers. The latter, now certain of the success of the day, even disdained to hasten the rout of the fleeing French, who, crowded against the Loire, were sure to be drowned or taken--Joan first of all. The bulk of the English troops halted to shout three cheers of triumph, a few companies advanced unsupported and with mocking slowness to make the assured capture. "Come, now, Joan! Come!" cried the English captains from a distance. "Come now, strumpet, surrender! You shall be burned! That's your fate!" The presumptuous confidence of the enemy afforded the heroine the necessary time to re-form her lines.