"Dr. King mentioned that," said Mr. Sparhawk, and there was a pleasant interest in his face.
"I find in my searching there were other losses before the two we've mentioned," said Anthony. "And there were some after."
Mr. Sparhawk nodded.
"Your grandfather never had a complete loss," said he. "No matter how desperate the mischance, something was always saved from the wreck. And, with his ships, disaster was always written in terms a sailorman could understand: wind or wave, shoal or rock."
"I see what you mean," said Anthony. "None of his vessels foundered in the night, like the Two Brothers, and left their companies adrift in small boats on a sea as quiet as a lake."
"That was odd," said Mr. Sparhawk. "That was very odd."
"And the Sea Mew?" said Anthony.
Mr. Sparhawk crossed his worsted-clad legs and sat back at his ease.
"Of the two," said he, "the Sea Mew's case was perhaps the most singular. There were goods in her to the amount of a half-million dollars, American."
"She sailed from Calcutta, and never made her next port of call," said Anthony. "There was a good breeze, well able to further a ship on her journey, but no more; and yet she was never seen again."