And there all day, and day after day, there was bustle and crowding and labor, while the great ships loaded up, and one after the other spread their white pinions and darted off to the open sea, amid the clash of cymbals and rolling of drums and lusty shouts of those who went and of those who waited.

From Orwell to the Dart there was no port which did not send forth its little fleet, gay with streamer and bunting, as for a joyous festival.

Thus in the season of the waning days the might of England put forth on to the waters.
In the ancient and populous county of Hampshire there was no lack of leaders or of soldiers for a service which promised either honor or profit.

In the north the Saracen's head of the Brocas and the scarlet fish of the De Roches were waving over a strong body of archers from Holt, Woolmer, and Harewood forests.

De Borhunte was up in the east, and Sir John de Montague in the west.