To see the great green waves rush in and turn, and turn, and waste
themselves in their wild fury, as though they searched for it in
anger--ah! it's an awful sight."

"That is in winter-time only, I suppose?"

"Nay, Sir; we have storms at other seasons. Whenever I see such a sign
as the castle without the crag--it's all clear now, you see, because the
wind is rising--then am I thankful that my father is no sailor. Most
folk are such at Gethin that are not miners."

"Then your father is a miner, is he?"

"No, Sir, not now, though he once was. Every body knows John Trevethick
about here, and why he don't work underground."

"How was that, then?" inquired Richard, with interest. "You must
remember I am a stranger, and know nothing."

"Well, Sir, it was years ago, and before I was born. Father was just
married, though he was not a young man for a bridegroom, and was down
Turlock pit-hole with Harry Coe (Solomon's father), putting in shot for
blasting. They had worked underground together for five-and-twenty
years, and were fast friends, though Coe was an older man, and a
widower, with Solomon almost of age. They were deep down in the shaft,
and one at a time was all that the man at the windlass above could haul
up; and they had put in their shot, and given them the signal. One was
to go up first, of course, and then the second to light the match, and
follow him with all speed. Now, while they were still both at the
bottom, it struck Coe that the match was too long, and he took a couple