He asked a
coastguard man, whom he observed scanning the place with a glass,
"What it was?"
The man lowered his voice and said, "Well, sir, it will be something
coming ashore, by the way the folk are running."
Mr. Fountain got a carriage, and, urging the driver to use speed, was
hastily conveyed by the road to a part whence a few steps brought him
down to the sea. He thrust wildly in among the crowd.
"Make way," said the rough fellows: they saw he was one of those who
had the best right to be there.
He looked, and there, scarce fifty yards from the shore, was the
lugger, keel uppermost, drifting in with the tide. The old man
staggered, and was supported by a beach man.
When the wreck came within fifteen yards of the shore, she hung, owing
to the under suction, and could get neither way. The cries of the
women broke out afresh at this. Then half a dozen stout fellows swam
in with ropes, and with some difficulty righted her, and in another
minute she was hauled ashore.
The crowd rushed upon her. She was empty! Not an oar, not a
boat-hook--nothing. But jammed in between the tiller and the boat they
found a purple veil. The discovery was announced loudly by one of the
females, but the consequent outcry was instantly hushed by the men,
and the oldest fisherman there took it, and, in a sudden dead and
solemn silence, gave it with a world of subdued meaning to Mr.
Fountain.
CHAPTER XXI.
MR. FOUNTAIN'S grief was violent; the more so, perhaps, that it was
not pure sorrow, but heated with anger and despair.
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