So it came to pass, that one morning on the shores of Ostia, there arose a fearful tumult and confusion. Women, old men, and children, were already flying along the high-road towards Rome, or had embarked in boats to row up the Tiber, while others were anxiously collecting and packing up their property, all the while calling out in their terror, “Away, away, ere it be too late! Yonder are their flags already on the horizon.” The men, however, and youths who were able to bear arms, drew themselves up on the strand, prepared for defence, though among them were to be seen many pale faces, and murmurs were heard through the ranks,--“It is Nurreddin, the frightful Arab himself, who is thus coming against us.” From Rome there came ere long troops, to support the people at Ostia, but few in number, and in their looks no tokens of confidence nor pleasure, more than in the countenances of those whom they were sent to encourage, only here and there some one continued to tranquillize his own mind, by saying, “This cannot be the great emir, who is now coming hither. The fleet is nothing more than African pirate ships.” Such voices, however, were opposed always by twenty to one; for men had been sent out in boats to reconnoitre, and to keep watch in the high-light towers. On their return, they all declared, that it was the fleet of the dreaded emir that was near at hand, and that his own flag-ship, distinguished from all the rest, was in the middle. All this they knew by the glittering ornaments and streamers, by the fashion of the sails, and shape of the vessels. The chiefs of the Italian troops were so terrified at hearing this, that they could scarcely utter an angry command, that these unwelcome messengers should be silent. Then they whispered to one another, “It is all but too certain! Nurreddin is drawing near, and our only hope is to die nobly with sword in hand!”