t was
that he marries the French gal as took his fancy when he comed across
them shoes, and went to live at Saint Mailer, as they calls it."

"Saint Malo, I suppose," corrected Mrs Gilmour. "Eh?"

"Yes, my lady, I sed Saint Mailer, didn't I?" replied the old dame, not
perceiving where the delicate distinction lay; and then she went on to
relate in a very roundabout fashion all the incidents connected with her
son's marriage--as well as talking of everything else under the sun, so
it seemed to Bob, who thought it an interminably long story, and was
heartily glad when old Mrs Craddock got to the end of it.

But, little did he think in how short a space of time he would be
brought in contact with that son of hers, Jim Craddock, in the very
strangest manner, and under circumstances that would never have entered
his wildest dreams!

However, he did not know this; and, while the old dame was spinning her
yarn, Bob employed the time by looking at the model of a ship over the
mantelpiece, which brought back to his mind all about the _Bembridge
Belle_, making him feel on tenter-hooks lest they should be late for
dinner, and so be unable to go down afterwards and see the wreck, as the
Captain had arranged.

He need not have been so fidgety, though.

Everything comes to an end in time, as did the old lady's talk; and
then, they were able to start home again, Rover coming in for much
praise from his waiting so patiently for such a lengthy period outside
Mrs Craddock's cottage, without bark or whine betraying his presence
there.

The dinner was not late, much to Bob's joy; and, the Captain being also
punctuality itself, they set out for the beach, just when the dim
shadows of the fading twilight were mingling with those of night.

There was a stiff breeze blowing from the southward and eastward, almost
half a gale, as a sailor would express it, the wind causing the incoming
tide to break on the shore with a low, dull roar, as if the spirit of
the deep felt half inclined to be angry, and yet had not quite made up
his mind!

It was almost dark by the time the little party from "the Moorings"
reached the wreck, and things were beginning to get indistinct a little
distance off; but, soon after their arrival on the spot, the silvery
moon rising at the full, passing through occasional strata of dark cloud
that veiled her light at intervals, illumined the sky with her weird
beams, making it bright as day, but with a ghostly rad