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Updated: June 9, 2025
Thirty paces away, stark against the evening sky, rose the western wall of Ferne House, and it was shaggy with ivy that was rooted like a tree, wide-branched, populous with birds' nests, and high, high against the blue a thing of tenderest sprays and palest leaves.
"Sir Mortimer Ferne, the election lies with you." Ferne started sharply. "Sir, it is an honor I do not desire! As Admiral, I pray you to name the Captain of the Phoenix." A breathless hush fell upon the cabin.
My brother sailed with me Thomas Baldry, that was master of the Speedwell that went down at Fayal in the Azores.... Didst ever see a ghost, Sir Mortimer Ferne?" "No," answered Ferne, curtly. "Then the dead come not to haunt us," said Baldry. "I would have sworn a many had passed before your eyes. Now had I been Thomas Baldry I would have won back." "That also?" demanded Sir Mortimer.
In addition to the bearers and some other slight attendance there walked with it Sir John Nevil and Captain Powell, Giles Arden and Sir Mortimer Ferne. Sometimes the latter laid his hand upon the youth's burning forehead, sometimes upon the lips which would have babbled overmuch. Bearers and escort stared and stared.
It lacked half an hour of sunset when be brought that news which since noon Don Luiz had sought with fury to wring from the other." "From the other?" "From Sir Mortimer Ferne." An Englishman cried out, "Then were there two traitors?" but Mexia, who by now was somewhat in love with his part of raconteur, had a grim smile.
The tide of color rolled through the great inner doors, down to the level of the gallery, and so on towards the river and the waiting barges. It caught upon its crest Philip Sidney, who, striving in vain to make his way back to where Ferne was standing, had received from the latter a most passionate and vehement gesture of dissuasion.
If these two touched hands, then in that moment would be spanned the distance between the star in the ascendant and the wavering marsh-light, between the sea-colossus and his one-time rival, now so long overwhelmed and chained to sterile earth. In the short silence the wind seemed to take with a rushing sound the palm tops overhead. Then Ferne spoke. "With all my heart I thank you," he said.
Pathetically deploring the change wrought by time, Ferne also observes of the Inns of Court, "Pity to see the same places, through the malignity of the times, and the negligence of those which should have had care to the same, been altered quite from their first institution."
This was the story that Ferne Yarnell told in the parlor of the Palace Hotel to Jack Flatray and the Lees. Melissy spoke first. "Did Mr. Bellamy kill the man to keep your brother from being killed?" "I don't know. It must have been that. It's all so horrible." The deputy's eyes gleamed. "Think of it another way, Miss Yarnell. Bellamy was up against it. Your brother is only a boy.
With his yoke-brother, Arden, and Sedley he returned to the Cygnet, and that evening at supper, having drunken much sack, began to loudly vaunt the deeds of the drowned Star, magnifying her into a being sentient and heroical, and darkly-wishing that the luck of the expedition be not gone with her to the bottom of the sea. "Luck!" exclaimed Ferne at last, haughtily. "I hate the word.
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