“And did you tell any body of this before you knew that they were drowned?” inquired Richard.

“Ay, that’s the point,” muttered Solomon, approvingly.

“No,” said Trevethick.  “I didn’t believe the old woman, and I thought her story would be very ill taken; so I kept it to myself.  But it turned out true for all that; the thing happened just as I say.  John Trevethick ain’t no liar.”

“Of course you are stating what you believe to be the fact,” said Richard, in a conciliating tone; “I don’t doubt that.”

“Just so; he’s told it so often that he really does behave it,” said Solomon, laughing.  “But what seems curious is, that it is always Madge—­purblind old woman, as wants to be thought a witch—­as sees these things—­drowned sailors, and Flying Dutchmen, and so forth.  I should like to know who else has ever had the chance?”

“Lots of folks,” said the landlord, doggedly.

“Well, you been here these forty years,” said Solomon, “have you seen ’em?  And Harry here has been at Gethin all her life, has she seen ’em?”

There was an awkward silence.  Harry had turned very pale—­in terror, as Richard thought, of the dispute between her father and Solomon becoming serious.

“That’s naught to do with it,” said Trevethick, sharply.  “You’re no Gethin man, Solomon, or you wouldn’t talk so.  Why, didn’t Madge describe the very ship as was lost off Castle Rock, the night before we ever set eyes on her? and wasn’t it printed in the paper?”

“In the next Saturday’s paper:  yes,” replied Solomon, curtly.

“Nay, I heard the old woman with my own ears,” said Harry, gravely.  “There had been no wreck when she told me she had seen the schooner.  ‘The Firefly,’ said she, ’will never come nearer home than Gethin Bay:  you mark my words.’  That was twelve hours, ay, and more, before she struck.”

“Forgive me for interrupting,” said Richard; “but I don’t understand this matter.  Is it supposed that a vessel announces her own destruction beforehand?”

“Sometimes,” said Trevethick, gravely.  “A ship is as well known here—­if she belongs to this part of the coast—­as a house is known in the Midlands.  Well, if she’s doomed, Madge—­and it ain’t only Madge neither—­will see her days before she comes to her end.  This Firefly, for example, belonged to Polwheel, and had been away for weeks.”

“But still she was expected home?” interrogated Richard.

“Ay, that’s it,” said Solomon, once more nodding approval.  “The old woman had that in her mind.”

“Why so?” argued Trevethick.  “What was the Firefly to her that she should think she saw her drive into the bay, and break to pieces against the rock out yonder?  And why should she tell her vision to Harry?”

“That certainly seems strange, indeed,” said Richard, “as showing she attached importance to the affair herself.  It was a most curious coincidence, to say the least of it.  But what is this Flying Dutchman, of which you also spoke?  I did not know he ever came so far out of his proper latitude as this.”