Indeed he heard
little after the first rambling outburst, for his own thoughts were busy
with the problems of Tregenza's fate.
"Sit down, mariner. I shan't sail till marnin' an' you'm welcome. Theer be
thots in me so deep as Levant mine, but I doan't speak 'em for anybody's
hearin'. Joan weern't none o' mine, an' I knawed it, thanks be to God,
'fore ever she played loose. What do 'e think o' a thousand pound for a
sawl? Cheap as dirt--eh? 'Thou hast covered thyself with a cloud that our
prayer should not pass through.' Not as prayers can save what's lost for
all eternity 'fore 'tis born into time. He ruined her; he left her wi'
cheel; but ban't likely the unborn clay counts. God Hisself edn' gwaine to
damn a thing as never drawed breath. Who'd a thot the like o' her had got a
whore's forehead? An' tokened at that--tokened to a sailor-man by name o'
Noy. Let'n come home, let'n come home an' call the devil as did it to his
account. Let the Lard see to't so that man edn' 'lowed to flourish no more.
I be tu auld an' broken for any sich task. 'For the hurt o' the darter o'
my people I am hurt.'"
He spoke no more upon that head, though Noy, now awake to fear and horridly
conscious that he stood in the shadow of some tremendous ill, reaching far
beyond the madman, asked him frantically what he meant. But Michael's mind
had wandered off the subject again.
"I seed en cast forth a net, same as us does for macker'l, but 'twas sawls,
not feesh, they dragged in the bwoat; but braave an' few of 'em.
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