He pointed to a high-built cog, with flapping purple sails, that rode close inshore, and to a long, lean craft, low in the waist, with a single mast supporting a slanting yard.
"That galley is not of these parts," he went on, shading his eyes with his hand. "She hath a look of the Inner Sea to me. But the cog is as plainly English as Ralph here. Mayhap one or other will serve our purpose."
They sought an inn within the walls of the little town, and Hugh explained to the landlord their desire for conveyance over-sea.
"And where would you be going, lords?" he enquired.
"To France," answered Hugh. "An it be possible, we prefer to land at one of the northern ports."
The landlord stroked his bristly chin.
"At most times you might have your pick of any port on the Narrow Seas," he said. "But what with the King's new port-dues and the hiring of shipping in Flanders for the Crusade, there are but two vessels here such as your lordships would care to sail in."
"Do you know aught about them?"
"Little enough. The cog there belongs to one Messer Nicholas Dunning, a worshipful mariner of Dover. He may be for France, and he may be for Flanders. I will make inquiry for you. The galley is a Cypriot, come hither some two weeks or more agone, with a cargo of wine. He hath lain here since, but what is his business and the port he sails for next I cannot say. Shall I enquire of him, too?"
"Ay, do so."