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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Prince of Cornwall A Story of Glastonbury and the West in the Days of Ina of Wessex"

The sea was but just below us, for the tide was full, and the
breakers were yet thundering at the foot of the cliffs on either
hand. But I did not note that at first, for the thing which held my
eyes at once was a ship which was wallowing and plunging past us
eastward, under close reefed sail, and I knew her for the vessel in
which I had crossed. Thorgils had left the cove, and was making for
Tenby while he might. I should have to seek him there.
"How far is it to the Danes' town, Father Govan?" I asked. "Yonder
goes my friend's ship."
"Half a day's ride, my son, and with peril for you all the way. Our
poor folk would take you for a Dane in those arms, and you have no
horse. Needs must that you seek Howel, and he will give you a guard
willingly."
Then he turned toward a great rock that lay on the beach, as if it
had fallen from the cliffs that towered above us.
"Here is the bell that you heard last night," he said.
He took a rounded stone that lay on the rock and struck it, and I
knew that the clear bell note that it gave out was indeed that
which had been my saving.
"Once I had a bell in the cote on the roof yonder," he said, "but
the Danes caught sight of it when they first passed this way, and
took it from me. Then as I sorrowed that the lonely shepherds and
fishers might no more hear its call, I seemed to see a vision of an
angel who bade me see what had been sent me instead.


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