Planks, a mast with the dark cinnamon sail twisted round it, the lugger's rudder, a cask or two, a heap of tangled net, a sweep broken in half, and some rope--bit by bit the fragments of the brave little fisher-vessel came ashore, or were dragged out by one or other of the men; but though a dozen stood ready, rope in hand, to dash in amongst the foam and try to rescue a struggling swimmer, John Tregenna's hand was never seen stretched out for help, nor his ghastly face looking wildly towards the shore. And at last, as the fragments of the lugger were gathered together in a heap, the crowd melted away, to follow where the half-drowned fishermen had been half-carried to their homes, and Geoffrey gladly accepted the hospitality offered to him by Edward Lee. Tom Jennen had fared the worst, for he had been dashed once against a part of the lugger, and his ribs were crushed; but he seemed patient and ready to answer the questions of a visitor who came to him after he had seen the doctor leave. "Were he aboard, Tom Jennen, when you tried to make the harbour?" "Aboard? Who? Tregenna?" "Ay." "Of course." "And he was with you when you struck?" "Holding on by the side, and screeching for help like a frightened woman," said Jennen. "And where do you think he'd be now?" said the other. "Drowned and dead, for he hadn't the spirit to fight for his life," said Jennen, "and I wish I'd never seen his face." "I'd like to have seen it once more," said Tom Jennen's visitor, grimly. "Just once more;" and he nodded and left the cottage. "I don't feel as if I ought to face my Bess till I've seen him once again," he muttered, as he went on along the cliff path; "but I don't know--I don't know. He was too slippery for me at the last;" and old Prawle went slowly and thoughtfully homeward to the Cove. CHAPTER SIXTY ONE. AFTER MANY DAYS. "She's better, Trethick, much better," said Uncle Paul. "Poor child! I thought it was going to be a case of madness. But sit down, man, I've just got a fresh batch of the old cheroots." Geoffrey seated himself in the summer-house opposite to the old gentleman, with the soft sea-breeze blowing in at the open window; and for a time they smoked in silence. "Mrs Mullion is going away, Trethick," said the old man at last. "Going away?" "Yes; it will be better for Madge. Let them go somewhere to a distance. The poor girl wants change, and she'll never be happy here." "No," said Geoffrey, "I suppose not. Then you go with them?" "I? No, my lad, I seem to be so used to this house that I don't want to make a change. I can't live much longer, Trethick, and I thought, perhaps, you would come back to the old place. There'll be plenty of room for both of us, and we can smoke and quarrel in the old style." Geoffrey shook his head.