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Section 53. THE WHITE SHIP. VII.

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The other two clung⁠[1] to the yard for some hours. At length (App. § 14) the young noble said faintly⁠[2]: “I am exhausted, and benumbed⁠[3] with cold, and can hold⁠[4] no longer. Farewell, good friend. God preserve (App. § 34) you!”

So⁠[5] he dropped and sank, and of all the brilliant crowd⁠[6], the poor butcher of Rouen alone was saved. In⁠[7] the morning, some fishermen saw him floating in his sheep-skin coat⁠[8], and got⁠[9] him into their boat,—the sole relater of the dismal tale.

For⁠[1] three days no one dared to carry⁠[10] the intelligence to the king; at length they⁠[11] sent into his presence a little boy, who, weeping⁠[12] bitterly, and kneeling at his feet, told him that the White Ship was⁠[13] lost, with all on board.

The king fell to the ground like⁠[14] a dead man, and⁠[15] never afterwards was seen to smile.—C. Dickens, A Child’s History of England.

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