But all this was forgotten in the bustle and tumult of warlike preparation. Never was Richard so busy, never was he in higher spirits. He worked all day, snatching an hour or two in the evening to spend with his loved troubadours. In the August of the year 1189 his galley _Trenche-mer_ set sail from Marseilles, and spread its sails for Messina, where Richard and Philip of France were to forgather. Winter was to be spent peacefully under Sicilian skies; but trouble was not long in brewing. The townsfolk having beaten and insulted his men, Richard forthwith stormed their city. As a notable squire of dames, he then took up the cause of his widowed sister Joan, who had been despoiled of her dowry by her brother-in-law, the new king. Restitution was made perforce, and Richard by his gallantry and lavish bounty soon became the theme of all tongues. Philip of France, as proud and haughty as Richard himself, looked on sullenly, and a passionate jealousy of the English king began to take possession of him. At last Richard sailed for Cyprus, where he proposed to land and await the coming of his bride, the fair Berengaria of Navarre. But a storm overtook his fleet, and two of his vessels were driven ashore. Isaac Comnenus, the churlish ruler of the island, little guessing with whom he had to deal, seized the cargoes and imprisoned the crews. This was intolerable, and Richard’s hot blood boiled with rage. To avenge the insult, he pounced upon the capital of the island and captured it. Then, to crown his triumph, came Berengaria, and, amidst scenes of splendour, his marriage was celebrated. He spent his honeymoon in conquering the rest of the island, nor did he rest until Isaac, loaded with silver chains, was sent into banishment. Twice he had fought and conquered since leaving Marseilles, and yet a third adventure awaited him before the real business of his enterprise began. During the voyage to Acre a big merchant ship was sighted flying false colours. Speedily she was discovered to be a Saracen vessel striving to run the blockade of Acre, now besieged by the Crusaders. Forthwith Richard mustered his crew. “I will hang every mother’s son of you if you let yonder dromond go,” was the burden of his speech, and having thus heartened his men, he bore down on the foe. The Saracens let fly a shower of arrows and threw Greek fire aboard the _Trenche-mer_, but, nothing daunted, Richard rammed the Saracen vessel with the sharp prow of his galley. Through the gaping rent in the dromond’s side the sea poured in, and down she went with all her rich cargo and most of her crew.