The early sun was now up, and its oblique rays set the waves dancing with a myriad points of fire.  Above us the rock cast its shadow into the green depths below, making them seem still greener and deeper.  To my left I could see the shining sands of Polkimbra, still desolate, and, beyond, the purple line of cliffs towards Kynance; on my right the rock hid everything from view, except the open sea and the gulls returning after the tempest to inspect and pry into the fresh masses of weed and wreckage.  I looked timidly at my companion.  He was still gazing out towards the sea, apparently deep in thought.  The cap was on his head, and his legs still dangled, while he muttered to himself as if unconscious of my presence.  Presently, however, he turned towards me.

“Got anything to eat?”

I had forgotten it in my terror, but I had, as I crossed the kitchen, picked up a hunch of bread to serve me for breakfast.  This, with a half-apologetic air, as if to deprecate its smallness, I produced from my pocket and handed to him.  He snatched it without a word, and ate it ravenously, keeping his eye fixed upon me in the most embarrassing way.

“Got any more?”

I was obliged to confess I had not, though sorely afraid of displeasing him.  He turned still further towards me, and stared without a word, then suddenly spoke again.

“What is your name?”

Truly this man had the strangest manner of questioning.  However, I answered him duly—­

“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!”