"Percivale!" I cried, making my way through the crowd.
There was no answer.
"Joe Harper!" I cried again, searching with eager eyes amongst the crew, to
whom everybody was talking.
Still there was no answer; and from the disjointed phrases I heard, I could
gather nothing. All at once I saw Wynnie looking over the wall, despair in
her face, her wide eyes searching wildly through the crowd. I could not
look at her till I knew the worst. The captain was talking to old Coombes.
I went up to him. As soon as he saw me, he gave me his attention.
"Where is Mr. Percivale?" I asked, with all the calmness I could assume.
He took me by the arm, and drew me out of the crowd, nearer to the waves,
and a little nearer to the mouth of the canal. The tide had fallen
considerably, else there would not have been standing-room, narrow as it
was, which the people now occupied. He pointed in the direction of the
Castle-rock.
"If you mean the stranger gentleman--"
"And Joe Harper, the blacksmith," I interposed.
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