My Danish Sweetheart: A Novel. Volume 2 of 3

IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. II.
I told my story, and the three fellows listened attentively. Their eyes glowed in the lamplight as they stared at me. The weak wind raised a pleasant buzzing noise at the cutwater, and the lugger stole in floating launches through the gloom over the long invisible heave of the Atlantic swell.
'Ah!' said the helmsman, when I had made an end, 'we heerd of that there Tintrenale lifeboat job when we was at Penzance. An' so you was her coxswain?'
'Were the people of the boat drowned?' cried I eagerly. 'Can you give me any news of them?'
'No, sir,' he answered; 'there was no particulars to hand when we sailed. All that we larnt was that a lifeboat had been stove alongside a vessel in Tintrenale Bay; and little wonder, tew, says I to my mates when I heerd it. Never remember the like of such a night as that there.'
'What was the name of the Dane again?' said one of the fellows seated opposite me, as he lighted a short clay pipe by the flame of a match that he dexterously shielded from the wind in his hand as though his fist was a lantern.
'The Anine ,' I answered.
'A bit of a black barque, warn't she?' he continued. 'Capt'n with small eyes and a beard like a goat! Why, yes! it'll be that there barque, Tommy, that slipped two year ago. Pigsears Hall and Stickenup Adams and me had a nice little job along with her.'
'You are quite right,' said Helga, in a low voice; 'I was on board the vessel at the time. The captain was my father.'
'Oh, indeed, mum!' said the fellow who steered. 'An' he's gone dead! Poor old gentleman!'
'What is this boat?' said I, desiring to cut this sort of sympathy short.