“Thanks, brave sailors, for the information you have afforded us,” said the Baron. “You will confer a further favour if you will show us where the said galiot Golden Hog lies at anchor. Among this vast fleet of shipping we should otherwise have considerable difficulty in discovering her, and my friend Count Funnibos will, I am sure, reward you handsomely.”
“Reward is neither here nor there, but I don’t mind showing you old Dunck’s craft, if you will come along with me.”
Thus saying, the sailor, getting up, put his hands in his pockets, and led the way along the quay. On one side it was bordered by high houses, with curious gables; the floors projecting one beyond the other, and little terraces and balconies and excrescences of all sorts, carved and painted in gay colours, and cranes and beams, with blocks and ropes hanging from their ends. On the other side appeared a forest of masts, yards, and rigging, rising out of vessels of all shapes and sizes, in apparently such inextricable confusion that it seemed impossible they should ever get free of each other, and float independently on the ocean. On the opposite side was an old castle with four towers, looking very glum and gloomy; and more vessels and boats below it, leaving the centre of the river tolerably clear for other craft to pass up and down. The sailor rolled along with an independent air, not looking to see whether those he had offered to guide were following him; now and then, when passing an old shipmate it might be, or other nautical acquaintance, he gave a nod of recognition without taking his hands from his pockets or his pipe from his mouth.
“Who have you got in tow there?” asked one or two.
“Don’t know: they want to see the skipper, Jan Dunck, and I’m piloting them to where his galiot lies.”
“They look remarkably green, but they’ll be done considerably brown before old Dunck lands them,” he said in an under tone, so that the Count and Baron did not hear him. As they were going along the sailor stopped suddenly, and pointed to a black-whiskered man, wearing a tarpaulin hat on his head, with high boots, and a flushing coat.
“There’s the skipper, Jan Dunck, and there’s his craft just off the shore. I’ll tell him what you want, and wish you a good voyage,” said the seaman, who then went up to the skipper.
“If they pay for their passage, and do not complain of the roughness of the sea, or blame me for it, I’ll take them,” said the skipper, eyeing the Count and the Baron as he spoke.
The arrangement was soon concluded.