The Genoese advanced a little way, then again stood and shouted, but still the English sat silent.
A third time they advanced and shouted more loudly than before, then began to wind up their cross-bows.
From somewhere in the English centre rose a heavy, thudding sound which was new to war.

It came from the mouths of cannons now for the first time fired on a field of battle, and at the report of them the Genoese, frightened, fell back a little.

Seeing that the balls fell short and did but hop toward them slowly, they took courage again and began to loose their bolts.
"You're right, master," exclaimed Grey Dick in a fierce chuckle, "their strings _are_ wet," and he pointed to the quarrels that, like the cannon balls, struck short, some within fifty paces of those who shot them, so that no man was hurt.
Now came a swift command, and the English ranks rose to their feet, uncased their bows and strung them all as though with a single hand.

A second command and every bow was bent.

A third and with a noise that was half hiss and half moan, thousands of arrows leapt forward.