Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of
stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken
cudgels, and links in their hands. These were the Master's body-guard.

Advancing towards the Master, and claiming an audience, which was
instantly granted, Jonathan, without much circumlocution, related the
sum of the strange story he had just learnt from Wood, omitting nothing
except a few trifling particulars, which he thought it politic to keep
back; and, with this view, he said not a word of there being any
probability of capturing the fugitive, but, on the contrary, roundly
asserted that his informant had witnessed that person's escape.

The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at
its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of
his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his
phlegmatic companion. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply,
coughed as only a Dutchman _can_ cough, and raising his hand from the
bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial
as the Master.

Putting his own construction upon this mute interchange of opinions,
Jonathan ventured to observe, that it certainly was a very perplexing
case, but that he thought something _might_ be made of it, and, if left
to him, he would undertake to manage the matter to the Master's entire
satisfaction.

"Ja, ja, Muntmeester," said the Dutchman, removing the pipe from his
mouth, and speaking in a deep and guttural voice, "leave the affair to
Johannes. He'll settle it bravely. And let ush go back to our brandewyn,
and hollandsche genever. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers