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Updated: May 28, 2025
A moment more and a wave caught him in its curling crest, and swept him onwards. For the first time in his life, Oliver Trembath's massive strength was of no avail to him. He felt like a helpless infant. In another instant the breaker fell and swept him with irresistible violence up the beach amid a turmoil of hissing foam.
Oliver Trembath's first feeling was one of surprise; this was followed by annoyance, which quickly degenerated into anger as it flashed into his mind that the old gentleman might possibly have led him wrong on purpose. "How far is it to St. Just?" he inquired. "'Bout six miles, sur." "Then I suppose I am not far from the Land's End?" said Oliver after a pause. "No, not fur," replied the man.
Such facts, combined with the uncertainty of the arrival or continuance of the fish on any particular part of the coast, tend to induce that spirit of eager, anxious excitement to which we have referred as being so congenial to Oliver Trembath's state of mind at the time of which we write.
The doctor who had taken Oliver Trembath's place during his absence was soon in attendance, and found that although no bones had been broken, Penrose's face was badly injured, how deep the injury extended could not at that time be ascertained, but he feared that his eyes had been altogether destroyed.
He was looking up the hymn for Mrs D, who, being short-sighted, claimed exemption from the duty of "looking up" anything. Besides, he was a kind, good man at heart though rather fond of smuggling and given to the bottle, according to Oliver Trembath's account of him and liked to pay his wife little attentions. But there were still greater novelties in store for the London man that morning.
At any other time, and in other circumstances, Oliver Trembath's fiery spirit would have resented the tone and manner of this man's address, but the feeling that he owed his life to him, and that in some way he appeared to be the innocent cause of bringing misfortune on him, induced him to restrain his feelings and obey without question the mandate of his rescuer.
That's my plan, and I never found it fail." Oliver Trembath's plan of "asking again" had to be put in practice sooner than had been anticipated, for the back alleys and lanes of Newlyn were a little perplexing to a stranger. "Let us inquire here," said Tregarthen, seeing the half-open door of a very small cottage, with part of a woman's back visible in the interior.
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