'Gone! Gone!' the two cried together.

'Neither he, nor his brother, nor his sister, nor the King's niece, nor her brother, nor any one of all the brave three hundred, noble or commoner, except we three, has risen above the water!' Fitz-Stephen, with a ghastly face, cried, 'Woe! woe, to me!' and sunk to the bottom.
The other two clung to the yard for some hours.

At length the young noble said faintly, 'I am exhausted, and chilled with the cold, and can hold no longer.

Farewell, good friend! God preserve you!' So, he dropped and sunk; and of all the brilliant crowd, the poor Butcher of Rouen alone was saved.

In the morning, some fishermen saw him floating in his sheep-skin coat, and got him into their boat--the sole relater of the dismal tale.
For three days, no one dared to carry the intelligence to the King.