"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." The landlord withdrew, and the comrades set themselves to the supper of roast fowl, bread and ale that was served by his wife. They were in the midst of the meal, when Ralph happened to look up at a nearby window and exclaimed: "Marry, there is a tarry son of the sea for you, Messer Hugh!" Hugh glanced through the window in time to see a swart, pock-marked face, with beady black eyes under a gaudy kerchief that was wound around sinister brows. The owner of the face bowed profusely, and disappeared in the direction of the inn-door. A moment later he entered the room, still bowing and scraping. In stature he was very squat and broad, with a huge barrel-chest and short, sinewy legs. He was clad in baggy white trousers and a dingy red jacket. "It has come to my ears that your lordships are awaiting passage across the Narrow Seas," he said in passable French. "That is true," answered Hugh. The swart man bowed again. "I am a merchant of Cyprus," he said. "I am but recently come north with a cargo of wine. Now my cargo is unloaded and I am preparing to sail home. I shall be glad to take you wherever you will." Hugh hesitated and looked at Matteo. Seeing his indecision, the shipman continued: "And you journey to Outremer, how much easier it will be to sail thither all the way in a good stout galley than to travel over-land for weary months, facing robbery and danger at every step. My galley is well-armed, lords, and if the corsairs attack us you shall have pleasant fighting, without danger to yourselves. What say you?" "How know you we journey to Outremer?" asked Matteo sharply. The man made a gesture very like an Eastern salaam.