en the
flare died down and went out.

"Well, sir, he turned then in the dark and started back for Coverack
to cry the dismal tidings--though well knowing ship and crew to be
past any hope; and as he turned, the wind lifted him and tossed him
forward 'like a ball,' as he'd been saying, and homeward along the
foreshore. As you know, 'tis ugly work, even by daylight, picking
your way among the stones there, and my father was prettily knocked
about at first in the dark. But by this 'twas nearer seven than six
o'clock, and the day spreading. By the time he reached North Corner,
a man could see to read print; hows'ever, he looked neither out to
sea nor towards Coverack, but headed straight for the first cottage--
the same that stands above North Corner to-day. A man named Billy
Ede lived there then, and when my father burst into the kitchen
bawling, 'Wreck! wreck!' he saw Billy Ede's wife, Ann, standing there
in her clogs, with a shawl over her head, and her clothes wringing
wet.

"'Save the chap!' says Billy Ede's wife, Ann. 'What d' 'ee mean by
crying stale fish at that rate?'

"'But 'tis a wreck, I tell 'ee. I've a-zeed 'n!'

"'Why, so 'tis,' says she, 'and I've a-zeed 'n too; and so has
everyone with an eye in his head.'

"And with that she pointed straight over my father's shoulder, and he
turned; and there, close under Dolor Point, at the end of Coverack
town, he saw _another_ wreck washing, and the point black with
people, like emmets, running to and fro in the morning light.
While he stood staring at her, he heard a trumpet sounded on board,
the notes coming in little jerks, like a bird rising against the
wind; but faintly, of course, because of the distance and the gale
blowing--though this had dropped a little.

"'She's a transport,' said Billy Ede's wife, Ann, 'and full of horse
soldiers, fine long men. When she struck they must ha' pitched the
hosses over first to lighten the ship, for a score of dead hosses had
washed in afore I left, half an hour back. An' three or four
soldiers, too--fine long corpses in white breeches and jackets of
blue and gold. I held the lantern to one. Such a straight young
man!'

"My father asked her about the trumpeting.

"'That's the queerest bit of all. She was burnin' a light when me
an' my man joined the crowd down there. All her masts had gone;
whether they carried away, or were cut away to ease her, I don't
rightly know. Anyway, there she lay 'pon the rock