The weather soon after Joanna's departure became extremely tempestuous, and the poor princess had a terrible voyage; her fleet was driven into Portland, and one of the largest ships came into collision and foundered. But this was not the end of her troubles, for on the Flemish coast another great ship was wrecked, with most of her household, trousseau, and jewels. Several vessels were lost, and many of her attendants perished from the hardships they had to endure, amongst them the old Bishop of Jaen, who had accompanied her to give state and dignity to her suite. Eventually the whole fleet arrived at Ramua, sorely disabled and needing a long delay for refitting before it could return to Spain.[8] Soon after her arrival in Flanders her marriage with the Archduke Philip was celebrated with much pomp at Lille. At a tournament given in her honour at Brussels, three knights wearing her colours entered the lists and fought against three of Margaret's knights; the latter were dressed in white, and wore 'marguerites' embroidered as their badge. Philip neglected and ill-treated his wife's countrymen to the extent of allowing nine thousand of the men on the fleet at Antwerp to die from cold and privation, without trying to help them; his young wife's Spanish household were unpaid, and even the income settled upon her by Philip was withheld, on the pretext that Ferdinand had not fulfilled his part of the bargain agreed upon in the marriage settlements. [8] Martin Hume, _Queens of Old Spain_. The fleet was detained until the following winter to carry the destined bride of the young Prince of Asturias to Spain. Margaret was now in her eighteenth year, and already distinguished for those intellectual qualities which made her later one of the most remarkable women of her time. She must have been a lovely girl, tall and fair, with masses of waving golden hair, a brilliant complexion, soft brown eyes, and a rather long narrow face, with the full under-lip so peculiar to the house of Austria. It is no wonder that Prince John fell in love with her, or that his parents welcomed her with admiration. In the spring of 1497 Margaret left Flushing and started on her long journey to Spain. She had an even worse voyage than her sister-in-law. A fearful storm arose, and her vessel was nearly wrecked. When the tempest had somewhat subsided, she and her companions amused themselves with each writing her own epitaph. Margaret composed the following well-known distich, which she bound to her arm for identification, and jokingly said might be engraved on her tomb, in case her body should be washed ashore:-- 'Cy gist Margot la gentil' Damoiselle, Qu' ha deux marys et encor est pucelle.'