Half-an-hour after this conversation and the gallant barque was quietly and slowly winding its course along the muddy stream which flows up to the Dutch-built Cinque Port situated at this part of the coast.
The Cinque Ports in Elizabeth's day, albeit their grandeur had in a great measure departed from them, were still of great importance to the nation. There was a pride and pomposity of manner still to be found amongst the barons, and burgesses, and townsfolk, which had descended to them from, their warlike ancestry, during the days when kings honoured them with their especial favour, and granted them privileges and immunities unknown to other towns. With all the pride of their mail-clad ancestry, therefore, and whose constant sufferance had been sack and siege, fire and slaughter, the more peaceful Cinque Porter of Elizabeth's day considered himself still a sort of a magnifico. 'Tis true that in place of the chain-mail and two-handed weapons of the iron-men of the Norman period, whose only trade was war, the present race were clad in the high-crown hat, the short cloak, and the full trunks of the well-dealing merchant. Yet still, albeit the portly, lank-haired, Flemish-looking burgher stood upon his gentility as he walked the key of this muddy haven, yet still, we say, steel corslet and military pride was not altogether laid aside, and the trade of merchandize had not entirely superseded efficiency in the trade of war.
On the morning following the night on which the strange barque entered the haven of Sandwich, two portly townsmen greeted each other in the Fish Market.
"What vessel was that same which crept up last night and lies moored before the Fisher's Gate?" inquired neighbour De Bock of Master Cramp.
"I can't observe," said Cramp. "She looks queer, methinks. There's an armed sentinel upon her deck, to keep any one from leaving her without license, and another man-at-arms upon the shore with loaded caliver, who walks up and down forsooth, as who should say, keep off Sir Curious, and pry not too closely into our affairs."
"Is she from Holland, think ye?" inquired De Bock.
"I should say nay to that," said Cramp.
"Is she from London, laden with serge, baize, and flannel, think ye?"
"I rather opine not."
"What is her rig, neighbour?"