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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Oh, Jim," she said, "I've had such adventures." When she had eaten a little she told me her story. "I was coming home from Salcombe," she said, "and I was driving fast, so as to get home before the snow lay deep. Just outside South pool, Nigger cast a shoe, and I was kept waiting at the forge for nearly half an hour. After that, the snow was so bad that I could not get along.
She was alone now in her remote little village, out of the world in the hills, and more alone than she had been since Willoughby sailed on that August morning down the Salcombe estuary. From the time of Willoughby's coming she had looked forward night and day to the one half-hour during which Harry Feversham would be with her. The half-hour had come and passed.
At last, though, that period of the terrible suspense was at an end, and the third light they had passed, that of the Maid of Salcombe, was beginning to grow fainter, and being left behind. "Now, what next?" thought Rodd. "How much longer shall we have to wait before the attack is made?"
I saw it on 'The Shipping Gazette' two days before we left the Mersey: the I'll Away, from New Orleans; barquentine, and for shape in tonnage might be own sister to the Hannah Hoo; but soft wood and Salcombe built. I was half fearing 'Bias might get down to Troy ahead of me." "He hasn't reported himself to me, anyway. . . . But we'll talk about him and other things later on."
They know well enough that in an open sea they can't run down a Salcombe schooner. But to earn their pay they will hang on till they lose her, and then sail home, all cosy. I'm thinking," he added slily, with a side glance at the magistrate: "we won't hang him this time." Mr. Landale made no answer; during the last few minutes his reflections had enabled him to take a new view of the situation.
It proved to be a bright night, being nearly full moon, with great flocculent silvery and black clouds scudding at a tremendous rate across the planet, while one minute the schooner's rigging was shadowed in black upon the white, wet deck, at another all was gloom, with the wind shrieking through the rigging, and the Maid of Salcombe proving the truth of the sailor's words, as she was literally dancing about; like a cork.
The two passions of Froude's life were Devonshire and the sea. "Summer has come at last," he wrote to Mrs. Kingsley from Salcombe in the middle of September, "after two months of rain and storm. The fields from which the wrecks of the harvest were scraped up mined and sprouting now lie basking in stillest sunshine, as if wind and rain had never been heard of.
The road to Sidmouth should be taken by way of the few houses that constitute Weston, and then by the highly placed Dunscombe Farm and the picturesque ruin near it. These winding lanes lead eventually to the lonely little church hamlet of Salcombe Regis "King Athelstan's salt-works in the Combe."
This one crashed through the bulwarks, sending the splinters flying in all directions, and making the coxswain shout to his men to stand firm, as, seeing their perilous position, he hurried to their help, for the big schooner had slipped her cable, a sail had been run up, and she was beginning to answer her helm, while the Maid of Salcombe was drifting helplessly towards the shore.
The following letter was written from Salcombe just after the General Election of 1886 and the defeat of Home Rule: "A Devonshire farmer fell ill of typhus fever once. He had quarrelled with a neighbour, and the clergyman told him that he must not die out of charity, and must see the man and shake hands with him. He agreed. The man came.
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