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Updated: June 2, 2025
I was up before dawn, and the sun rose over the shoulder of our mountain to find me a mile and more on my way down the track which led to the sea. Fett had gathered his mushrooms. It was greener than I remembered it, owing to the autumn rains. I pulled up with a start. At the foot of the meadow, where the stream ran in a curve between it and the woods, stood a man.
Nat Fiennes had sprung to his feet, musket in hand, when another and less romantic sound broke the silence of the near woods; and down through a glade on the slope above us, where darkness and day yet mingled in a bluish twilight under the close boughs, came scampering back the hogs described to us by Mr. Fett.
"You are not dealing with a child, sir," said the Princess, with a look at me and a somewhat heightened colour. "Be assured that I shall have eyes only for what I choose to see." Mr. Fett bowed. "As for the lodgings, I can guarantee them. They lie on the edge of a small Jew quarter not the main ghetto and within a stone's-throw of the alleged birthplace of Columbus; if that be a recommendation.
Besides this Sir John carried his camp-stool and spy-glass, and in his pocket a map along with his Bible and tobacco pouch; I the wine and his spare gun: Fett the bag of provisions; and Badcock his flute and a gridiron." "Why a gridiron?" asked my uncle.
"Ay, but for love," answered my father. "In love no man can be too prompt." "I believe you, sir," hiccuped Mr. Fett, who had been drinking more than was good for him. "And so, begad, does your man Priske. Did any one mark, just now, how like a shooting star he glided in the night from Venus' eye? Love, sir?" he turned to me. "The tender passion? Is that our little game?
"Sir," interposed Mr. Fett, "give me leave to assure you that an audience may be amused and yet throw things. Addison's tragedy of Cato, for two hours I piled the Pelion of passion upon the Ossa of elocutionary correctness, still without surmounting the zone of plant life; which in the Arts, sir, must extend higher than geographers concede.
With this and two half-crowns in my pocket I slammed the front-door behind me and faced the future." Mr. Fett paused impressively. "And you call me an original, sir!" he went on in accents of reproach; "me, who started in life with two half-crowns in my pocket, the conventional outfit for a career of commercial success!" "They have carried you all the way to Falmouth!"
Fett, cheerfully, piling a heap of dry twigs; "and we have ship's butter and a frying-pan." "Are you sure," asked Mr. Badcock, examining one, "that these are true mushrooms?" "They were grown in Corsica, and have not subscribed to the Thirty-nine Articles; still, mutatis mutandis, in my belief they are good mushrooms.
The meal over, my father proposed to me to return to the creek and fetch up a three days' supply of provisions from the ship, leaving Mr. Fett and Billy Priske to guard the camp. We asked him if the two explorers had returned. He answered "No," and that Mr. Fett had strolled up into the wood in search of chestnuts, leaving him sentry over the camp.
One my father clubbed senseless with the butt of his musket; another the two seamen turned and chased forward to the bows, where he leapt overboard; the third, after hesitating an instant, retreated, swung himself over the bulwarks, and dropped back into the boat. But a second cry from Mr. Fett warned us that more were coming. Mr.
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