merely said that
the afternoon was fine, and went on his way.

As he went a sudden blast of air came over the hill as if in
contradiction to his words, and spoilt the previous quiet of the scene.
The wind had already shifted violently, and now smelt of the sea.

The harbour-road soon began to justify its name. A gap appeared in the
rampart of hills which shut out the sea, and on the left of the opening
rose a vertical cliff, coloured a burning orange by the sunlight, the
companion cliff on the right being livid in shade. Between these cliffs,
like the Libyan bay which sheltered the shipwrecked Trojans, was a little
haven, seemingly a beginning made by Nature herself of a perfect harbour,
which appealed to the passer-by as only requiring a little human industry
to finish it and make it famous, the ground on each side as far back as
the daisied slopes that bounded the interior valley being a mere layer of
blown sand. But the Port-Bredy burgesses a mile inland had, in the
course of ten centuries, responded many times to that mute appeal, with
the result that the tides had invariably choked up their works with sand
and shingle as soon as completed. There were but few houses here: a
rough pier, a few boats, some stores, an inn, a residence or two, a ketch
unloading in the harbour, were the chief features of the settlement. On
the open ground by the shore stood his wife's pony-carriage, empty, the
boy in attendance holding the horse.

When Barnet drew nearer, he saw an indigo-coloured spot moving swiftly
along beneath the radiant base of the eastern cliff, which proved to be a
man in a jersey, running with all his might. He held up his hand to
Barnet, as it seemed, and they approached each other. The man was local,
but a stranger to him.

'What is it, my man?' said Barnet.

'A terrible calamity!' the boatman hastily explained. Two ladies had
been capsized in a boat--they were Mrs. Downe and Mrs. Barnet of the old
town; they had driven down there that afternoon--they had alighted, and
it was so fine, that, after walking about a little while, they had been
tempted to go out for a short sail round the cliff. Just as they were
putting in to the shore, the wind shifted with a sudden gust, the boat
listed over, and it was thought they were both drowned. How it could
have happened was beyond his mind to fathom, for John Green knew how to
sail a boat as well as any man there.

'Which is the way to the place?' said Bar