Upon shore a furious hand-to-hand fight soon followed. Men fought up to their knees in the water; sword-strokes made the foam splash high. Sometimes two adversaries would pull each other down, roll over, and disappear. Dead bodies and quantities of arrows floated on the waves. Sailors caught hold of the boats, and pushed them violently out to sea. One strong stroke of the oar brought them back. Then some would hang their whole weight on one side, hoping to capsize them. The hands clutching the edge were hewed at with sabres; the blood spurted out, then trailed upon the water like torn rags. When a boat was empty, it returned in haste to fetch more soldiers; soon the partisans of the Usurper were crushed. They surrendered. The dead and wounded were numerous. The latter were laid upon the sand, their wounds were dressed, and they were encouraged with kind, fraternal words. Were they not brothers? They wore the same uniform, they spoke the same language. Some wept as they recognized friends in the enemy's ranks. The vanquished men sat upon the ground in an attitude of utter despair; they crossed their hands upon their knees, and bowed their heads. Their swords and bows were gathered up and made into heaps, which were given to the victors. The Prince of Nagato and the General advanced into the interior of the island. Harounaga swung from his wrist the golden-thonged whip; the scales of his cuirass clattered and clashed as he strode along with one hand on his hip. "Bring forward the leader of the rebels," said the Prince. Sandai came forward. He still wore the varnished black leather mask, fitted to the helmet, and worn in battle; he removed it, and revealed his melancholy visage. The presence of Nagato strangely troubled this chieftain, who had formerly asked and obtained his interest with Fide-Yori. He had afterwards joined the Regent from ambitious motives, and now he betrayed his first sovereign. Nagato's calm and scornful gaze made him feel all the infamy of his conduct; he saw that he could never again hold up his head under the double humiliation of defeat and dishonor. Moreover, the Prince seemed to him clad in peculiar majesty. Amidst his warriors in full armor, their heads protected by strong helmets, Iwakura stood bareheaded, dressed in a black silk robe with a slight tracery in gold; on his hands were white satin gloves, reaching to the elbow, and above each arm a stiff plastron forming an epaulette, and making his shoulders seem very broad. In this guise he looked more formidable than all the rest. The Prince played carelessly with his fan, and did not appear to recollect that he had ever known Sandai. "Rebel," he said, without raising his voice, "I do not ask you if you will renounce your crime, and return to the service of your true lord. Pride, I know, survives honor in the heart of man, and you would refuse."