KILLIGREW, (_laying his hand on_ COBHAM’S _shoulder_,) Hush! What’s all that? Something of importance. (_They all look_.) HAWKINS. What can be up? They are crowding to the beach, and the piers. The cruisers too, they are firing salutes in the offing and showing their bunting. What can it mean? Surely that was a cheer, rolling down upon the wind. Let us go and see, besides, there are queer rumours I should like you to hear whispered about the disaster of our friends, said to come from the Spaniards in the harbour. (_A cheer in the offing_). COBHAM. That is an undoubled cheer in the offing. There is something ill the wind, go a-head. (_Exeunt_). SCENE II. _The pier_, _crowd of sailors_, _and citizens running as if for some strange news_, _or standing in groups conjecturing_. _Enter_ W. HAWKINS, SIR H. KILLIGREW, _and_ SIR E. HORSEY. HAWKINS. Let us get among the sailors and hear what they think, their instinct for the real is marvellous, as their far-sightedness at sea. Here’s a group of the right sort for us! _Pointing to some powerful men of haughty bearing and daring expression_, _dressed in a superior style_, _flaunting gold chains and massive jewellery_, _with Indian silk handkerchiefs carelessly worn_, _and other marks of wealth obstentiously displayed_. _They seem not only to stand aloof by themselves but to shoulder their way without considering much whether or not_, _they give offence_. _As_ HAWKINS _and his companions make their way into the group one of them salutes with an air of recognition_. SAILOR. Good day, Captain! If there were Spaniards here, I would say to them “War hawks, make all sail!” (_Looking with a knowing wink at his companions_). HAWKINS. Why, Bill Carvell! Is it you? What’s all this stir and curiosity about? They are firing salutes, and cheering, in the offing. (_Rounds of cheers_, _firing of salutes_, _and hoisting of flags by the cruizers echoes along the shore by the people_.) CARVELL. It is only that poor cripple limping into the harbour, with broken legs. She is tattered, and torn, wounded and weak; and no mistake whether by storm or battle. 2nd SAILOR. Not so overweak, that she cloud not take her own part, in case of need. She has a dammed rakish look about her, like some broken down gentle-woman, whose rank no poverty can conceal! I can see her pride and high spirit, though all her rags. See how she answers the helm, and takes the windward of that great Flemish bark! 3rd SAILOR, (_with a knowing emphasis and nod_). She’s off a long voyage, and carries no freight; unless perhaps, it may be a dust or so of the precious metals. I’m mistaken if she’s not in fighting gear, as well as sailing trim. 4th SAILOR. She has passed through a heavy gale, her rigging is sadly mawled.