Dreading to hear the answer, yet wildly
anxious, I cried--
"Oh, yes. Do you know him? He was coming home from Ceylon, and
mother was so anxious; and then, what with the storm last night and
the cry that we heard, we were so frightened! Oh! do you know
--do you think--"
My words died away in terrified entreaty; but he seemed not to hear
me. Still gazing out on the sea, he said--
"Sailed in the _Belle Fortune_, barque of 600 tons, or thereabouts,
bound for Port of Bristol? Oh, ay, I knew him--knew him well.
And might this here place be Lantrig?"
"Our house is on the cliff above the next cove," I replied.
"But, oh! please tell me if anything has happened to him!"
"And why should anything have happened to Ezekiel Trenoweth?
That's what I want to know. Why should anything have happened to
him?"
He was still watching the waves as they danced and twinkled in the
sun. He never looked towards me, but plucked with nervous fingers at
his torn trousers. The gulls hovered around us with melancholy
cries, as they wheeled in graceful circles and swooped down to their
prey in the depths at our feet.
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