"Jasper Trenoweth."
"God in heaven! What?"
He had started forward, and was staring at me with a wild surprise. Unable to comprehend why my name should have this effect on him, but hopeless of understanding this extraordinary man's behaviour, I repeated the two words.
His face had turned to an ashy white, but he slowly took his eyes off me and turned them upon the sea, almost as though afraid to meet mine. There was a pause.
"Father by any chance answering to the name of Ezekiel—Ezekiel Trenoweth?"
Even in my fright I can remember being struck with this strange way of speaking, as though my father were a dog; but a new fear had gained possession of me. 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!"