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Updated: June 9, 2025
The officers and crew were impatient to make their destined port; but the wind subsided as the sun went down on that quiet Sabbath day on the ocean. The ship hardly made twenty miles before daylight in the morning. At eight o'clock, on Monday, when Paul Kendall had the deck, the Young America was off Fastnet Rock, and not more than half a mile from it.
"By the way, who was the man, older than the others, who talked loudest and not always in the most classical English?" The captain laughed pleasantly. "No. I should have been better pleased if he had not been of our party. He never was select, even in my young days, when I met him once or twice. There used to be a saying among us that Fastnet, if he gave his mind to it " "Fastnet!"
Rumour says he went to London, where he was last heard of in company of a companion named Fastnet." Mr Fastnet put down his glass. "Eh?" said he. "The Fastnets are not a big clan. Are you sure that was the name?" "It was certainly the name that reached me." "Must refer to some one else then. I never knew or heard of any one of the name of Ingleton in my life." Roger's countenance fell.
In fact, the small sitting-room, with bedroom to match, commonly furnished, reeking of tobacco, and hung all round with sporting and dramatic prints, was quite as likely a refuge for an unfledged medical student as for a person of the swagger and presence of Mr Felix Fastnet. "No use to me," he explained, interpreting his young guest's thought, "except as a dog-kennel.
He had admitted that he had gone to the bad in London in company with a youth named Fastnet. The news of his death had reached England from abroad. Besides, the reckless, devil-may-care tone of the epistle more than ever convinced the younger brother that this was no fraudulent claimant, but the honest growl of an outcast who little guessed what his name was worth to him.
Mr Compton, very white and downcast, took up his hat. "Thank you," said he, with a pitiful affectation of superciliousness; "I take no notice of young bumpkins like him," and he turned on his heel. Fastnet stepped before him to the door. "Look here, Compton," said he, "you're a member of this club. Do we understand you funk this affair?" "I've something better to do than bother my head about him.
I never corrected it." "Whereabouts was the skirmish, if it's a fair question?" "On the frontier. I forget the name." "That's unfortunate. By the way, to go back to London, do you recollect where Mr Fastnet lived? I should like to call on him." "You won't find him; he died before I went abroad drank himself to death." "I'm sorry to hear that.
Would Captain Nemo head up north and beach us on the British Isles? No. Much to my surprise, he went back down south and returned to European seas. As we swung around the Emerald Isle, I spotted Cape Clear for an instant, plus the lighthouse on Fastnet Rock that guides all those thousands of ships setting out from Glasgow or Liverpool. An important question then popped into my head.
Understand what you like. Let me go!" Fastnet opened the door. "Clear out!" said he, with an oath; "and don't show your face here again, unless you want to be kicked." "What do you mean by that?" "What I say. Be off, or I won't wait till you come again." Whereupon exit the Honourable Mr Compton with colours dipped.
Two days later, and Fastnet Rock looms up against the blue sky; the iron-bound Irish coast appears. At noon they will land in Queenstown. "Come back to Erin, mavourneen, mavourneen," sings Charley's voice down the passage, early in the morning. Charley can sing a little still. He is to lose Edith. Sir Victor Catheron is to win and wear; but as she is not Lady Catheron yet, Mr.
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