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The Tale of the Muscular Manservant


CardiMuscleman

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Chapter Eighty Two

“Mr. Ralph, are you telling me that you have absolutely no idea where Mr. Fogg is at all?”

Lord Albemarle’s question was not without its reasons. It had been almost a week since one of the many correspondents around the world employed by the Telegraph had reporting a sighting of him and as Mr. Ralph poured through the latest set of reports all he could do was nod in sad agreement.

“This is Mr. Fogg’s schedule” he said handing a piece of paper to the aged Lord, “I don’t know why, your Lordship, “but I just know that at this very moment he’s heading home! That is why I am confident enough to say that if Mr. Fogg and his manservant are not on the China at this very moment, then I’ll…I’ll eat my hat I will!”

“I agree with you” chuckled his Lordship, “now how many days does he have left?”

“Only a few your Lordship” came the reply

“Oh” he said, a worried tone to his voice, “I know I shall not be able to sleep properly until he’s back home. I worry about my members, Mr. Ralph, they’re almost like the grandchildren I never get to see these days!”

“There, there, your Lordship” said Mr. Ralph, patting his Lordship on the lap, “I’ll look after you!”

***

“Are we really bound for England, Mr. Fogg?” asked Aouda as she joined him in the wheelhouse

“Indeed we are, my dear!” he smiled back and as he did he chuckled, “Imagine, all my careful planning and I might end up winning thanks to someone poisoning the captain. By the way, how is he doing?”

“I’ve managed to stop his stomach hurting for the time being” she replied, “but the poison is still in him!”

“Well, don’t you worry” smiled Phileas, “once we reach Liverpool we can give him to the finest doctors in the world!”

As he spoke, Fix entered and said “Sir, the latest reports are in. We’re currently a hundred and thirty miles south west of Newfoundland, travelling at fifteen knots on a bearing of sixty-nine degrees magnetic!” and then after a moment’s thought declared “Why, if we carry on at that rate we’ll be in Liverpool well before the 21st!”

“Indeed we will, sir” smiled Phileas as Drummond, who was plotting the course of a map, suddenly burped. He was about to apologise when Fix chuckled “Expressive, isn’t he, sir?”

“I can’t think why, sir” Phileas smiled, “but I believe that you have invested rather a lot in me getting back to London before the eighty-day time limit?”

“Sir” exclaimed Fix, wondering how much Phileas knew, “the only reason we have expressed that opinion is because we are English. I admit the fact that we seemed to meet up on several occasions was, well, pure chance, but well, let’s just say that we’ve become swept up in the enthusiasm for this project, sir, and anything that myself and my colleague can do to get you back to London to become a hero to the country, well, we’ll do it, sir! Isn’t that right, Drummond?”

“Oh, sir” he moaned as he sat on the floor, “I think I’m developing my dislike of the sea again, sir!”

As Drummond was facing up to his seasickness again, Jean was already in the galley making lunch. After all, what the French didn’t know about cooking didn’t need to be known and as he stirred the minestrone that he had made by hand he breathed in the smell and moaned with delight. As the previous cook leaned in to try and have some, Jean bellowed “I trust that you have mopped every corner of the floor, monsieur, I wouldn’t want to have to tell Captain Fogg that you were neglecting your punishment”.

As the cook grumbled under his breath, inside his mind he was fuming. This was not now Timothy imagined spending time on the ship, he wanted another chance to destroy Phileas and what was he doing? Mopping? “This is now way of a master of disguise to make a living” he thought to himself, and continued his scheming.

“Right” said Jean as he poured the soup into five bowls, “that’s one for my master, one for Aouda, one for Fix, one for Drummond and one for myself” and with that loaded the bowls onto a tray and carried it towards the wheelhouse. As he did, he tiptoed past Captain Speedy’s room to ensure that the former Captain, who had been fast asleep since early that morning, wasn’t disturbed. Sadly, he had not accounted for the keen nose the former Captain had, for no sooner had he entered the corridor than the former Captain bounded out of his room just as Jean passed it and declared “Ah, minestrone, haven’t had that for ages” and tried to take the platter.

“Captain” exclaimed Jean, “what are you doing out of bed?”

“I’m cured!” he announced, “completely and utterly cured and terribly hungry!”

“Cured?” asked Jean, “but, you were poisoned?”

“Poisoned?” laughed the captain, “you couldn’t poison me if you poured lead into me. I’ve got a cast iron stomach. No, that was just indigestion that’s all. Too much chili in that soup yesterday, so give me that soup and we’ll call it evens, alright?”

“I’m sorry, monsieur” said Jean, “this soup is for my master!”

“Now hold on a moment” the former captain said, “I know that you’re the new cook, but there’s an order on this ship. First the captain gets his meals, then the crew and then any guests, so that’s soup is mine!”

“Non, monsieur” insisted Jean, “this soup is heading to the captain”

“I am the captain” came the insistent reply but was stopped by “Non, my master is the captain!”

Suddenly the former Captain remembered his discussion the previous day and with a calm “Oh, yes” he grabbed the soup saying “Well, I’m the ceremonial captain” and with that took the soup into his room and slammed the door behind him leaving Jean one bowl of soup short.

“Oh, well” he sighed, “back to the galley!”

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Chapter Eighty Three

As the ship passed by Cape Race on the southern side of Newfoundland, the skies started to take on an ominous look. The wind had increased to such a degree that as Phileas was taken outside to examine the conditions, his hat very nearly blew off. As Fix showed him the mass of clouds on the horizon, Phileas nodded his understanding and said “Sir, I believe we are in for a former tropical storm. I have heard of these, although it will not be as strong as a full-blown hurricane, it will be pretty rough”

“Will we…?” asked Fix concerned

“The Henrietta seems like a sturdy vessel” Phileas replied, tapping the deck with his cane, “but just to be on the safe side, tell the engine room to give us as much speed as possible!”

“Of course” said Fix and dashing down to the engine room gave the order

As Speedy finished his soup, he leaned back in his chair and moaned. Patting his stomach, he said “Nothing like a good soup to settle the stomach” and could feel himself drifting off to sleep. Or at least he would have done if the soup bowl hadn’t suddenly slid to the left. This was rather a surprise, but not half as surprising as when the bowl fell off the table and hit the floor with a clang. As the room then slid in the opposite direction, Speedy suddenly put his hands to his mouth and staggered to the porthole in case he threw up. The only thing that did get thrown up was the sea and as he recovered he asked himself “What on earth…?” and decided to enquire in the wheelhouse. Battling against the heaving ship, he burst into the wheelhouse and bellowed “What in blazes do you think you’re doing? Full speed in a hurricane?”

“Oh” came the unconcerned reply, “I thought it was a former tropical storm myself. Still you are the expert I suppose! Oh, by the way, nice to see you on your feet again. Pleasant rest?” added Fogg, smiling at Speedy.

“You!” the former captain declared and let Phileas have it with all guns blazing calling him a “pirate”, a “picaroon” and even a “poltroon” to which Phileas replied “Well, I know what two of those words mean, and can guess the third. Would I be correct is saying that you’re not pleased with the progress we’ve made during your illness?”

“Progress?” bellowed Speedy, “You call burning coal when the wind is in your favour, progress?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t worry” came the reply that sent Speedy into a tantrum

“You’re crazy” he declared, “you know that, don’t you? You’re the craziest person I have ever met. Sailing at full speed in a hurricane is the sure-fire way of sinking this vessel!”

“I am aware of the risks” replied Phileas, “but I do have rather pressing business in Liverpool!”

“LIVERPOOL?” exploded Speedy, “Why are we heading to Liverpool?”

“Because you told us to!” said Phileas

“I did?” Speedy replied, slightly confused

“Yes, don’t you remember?” asked Phileas, “When you ceded command to me yesterday you said, and I believe I am correct in my memory “Just get me to Liverpool” and that is precisely what we are doing, so I really don’t know what all the fuss is about to be honest with you?”

“Well, yes” said Speedy, “but that was when I was ill. Look, I’m all better now, see” and as Phileas turned around he was slightly amused to see the former captain, a man he thought could lose a few pounds and still look too heavy, managing five pressups, the Englishman replied “Too late, sorry!” and resumed his position at the wheel, leaving Speedy unable to comprehend what was going on.

As he staggered back into his quarters, entering and leaving the room multiple times thanks to the ship’s movements, he gasped “I cannot believe it. This has to be the first time I’ve been seasick in twenty years”, and as he was thrown onto his bed by another movement, he threw up into his hand.

The storm was indeed as strong as Phileas had feared and in the early hours of the morning, Jean was thrown into the wheelhouse by the storm and found Phileas still at the wheel. Offering to take over, Phileas reassured him that he was alright and said “You know what, I’m in one the best moods I have been in for quite a while!”

“How?” asked Jean, amazed

“Well, per the last report I got about three hours ago, we are travelling at around twenty-three knots. If we keep that sort of pace up, we should arrive in Liverpool not on the morning of the 21st, but on the morning of the 20th. Imagine that Jean, by the evening of the 20th we’ll be back home and for the first time in nearly three months, you can show me just how strong you are!” and with that he chuckled saying “Ever tried lifting a chair with a person sitting in it before?”

“Non, monsieur” came the slightly awed reply

“There is perhaps just one small concern” added Phileas, “and that’s this ship. I’m sure she’s a good vessel, but, well, just look at that wind” and Jean peered out of the window at the sails being buffeted by the winds. As Jean was watching the sails, he failed to notice the cook staggering on the deck being thrown first one way and then the other by the waves. As he removed a saw from his apron, he looked at the wheelhouse and snarled.

“Let’s see you get through this storm without a mast” Timothy growled and started to saw away at the main mast. However, with only a quarter of the mast sawn through, a wave nearly washed Timothy overboard. He grabbed at the side of the ship and managed to scramble back on board before he heard a mighty CRACK and looked up just in time to see the mast topple down on him. There was an almighty crash that was heard and felt in the wheelhouse and as Jean looked behind the wheelhouse he exclaimed in horror at the sight. As he saw the cook pinned underneath the mast, he reported the disaster to his master who assured him that they still had enough sail to run before the wind, but that the cook needed saving. Jean immediately stood to attention and dashed out, but not before he was told “Be careful, my lover!”

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  • 2 weeks later...

Chapter Eighty Four

"HELP ME, FOR PITY'S SAKE, ANYONE, HELP ME!"

Timothy's screams were not without reason for although he had been very lucky and not injured himself, he knew only too well that any movement of the ship the wrong way could see his life, and the chance of his reward, vanish into nothingness. As Jean burst onto the deck buffeted by the storm, he gasped at the sight in front of him. The mast that had fallen onto the chef was not the main mast, but one of the foremasts but even so it was clear that this was going to take every single ounce of strength Jean had in him and the chef's screams were not going to help matters.

"Monsieur" declared Jean over the storm, "prepare yourself, you will only have one chance to escape. Take it when it comes!" and with that Jean positioned himself next to the mast, placed his hands under the mast and looking to the wheelhouse where he could see his master keeping the ship as still as possible, Jean nodded, closed his eyes and performed the impossible.

As soon as he started to exert his strength on the mast, Jean's body erupted into pain. His back screamed in agony, his legs started to quiver and he could feel his heart pounding like never before, but as he continued to push himself one refrain was going around his head.

"MUST....SAVE....LIFE!"

As Jean gritted his teeth, Timothy gasped as it appeared that Jean's face was turning bright red and he screamed "Sir, you're..."

Jean didn't need anyone to tell him what he was going through. His head felt as it was going to explode at any moment and yet the man's life had to be saved and so redoubling everything he had and roared "I...AM....THE....TITAN!" and as he did so, the impossible happened. The mast was raised, albeit by a fraction of an inch just enough for Timothy to escape but as he did so he gasped "What are you?" as Jean stood there holding a mast that must have weighed nearly eight hundred pounds, his face bright red and a look of sheer determination on his face. Sadly for the modern day Titan the feat of strength couldn't last and as Jean was forced to drop the mast. he staggered away looking slightly woozy back into the ship. He was watched by his master who was now panting with desire and moaning "Jean, thou art Hercules" with a damp patch on his trousers that was getting bigger and bigger by the minute. As Jean staggered towards his quarters, the effects of his feat of strength were clearly showing on him. Indeed, it was almost a superhuman effort for him to actually get to his quarters let alone his bed for no sooner had he entered his room than he passed out on his bed.

After what only seemed a few moments Jean heard someone call him by name and thinking it was his master he replied "Forgive me, my lover, for I am spent"

"Spent, aye" came the reply, "but, oh, mon amis, what courage you showed!" and with that Jean felt someone sit next to him and hold his hand.

"Anyone else would have done the same!" replied Jean, his eyes still closed, but the reply of "Mais non, mon amis, your feat was that of a Titan!" prompted Jean to smile from ear to ear. This has to be his master and his lover come to congratulate him and noting Jean's affinity for all things French was putting on a French accent just for him.

"Pray" continued the voice, "may I listen to the powerful force that enabled you to do that feat!"

As Jean nodded, he fumbled with his shirt but the voice replied "Nay, lad, I beg the honour" and with that Jean felt his shirt being unbuttoned and an ear being placed on his heaving chest. Clearly his lover wanted to hear his pounding heart and so, adopting another trick he had learned from the circus, Jean took a deep breath and held it causing his heart to beat faster. This caused his master to moan with desire but then something happened that Jean found odd, even by his master's standards. As the voice said "Pray, lad, I beg thou, I beg thou permissiont to worship you!" to which Jean nodded, he could feel his trousers being removed and the mass that had to his lover lay on top of him. It was clear that his lover wanted to ensure that Jean was well enough to continue the journey back to England and so, to reassure his master that he was, Jean consented and was soon being sucked. The sensation seemed to make Jean relax and it wasn't long before he was gently breathing with his master sucking him every few moments commenting on the sweetness of the essence. Jean could feel himself drifting off to sleep and so begged his master one last endulgence. It was instantly consented to by his master who twisted Jean's nipples in opposite directions with the resultant surge of cum swallowed by a grateful master. As Jean started to drift off he moaned "Thank you, my lover" to which the reply "Nay, lad, the orginal Titan thanks you" caused Jean to open his eyes and as he did the faint afterimage of a naked man's back, wider than any back he had ever seen before with a Musketeer's tabbard flung over the back of it caused him to stammer "Porthos?"

As Jean sat up in his bed, the inspector jumped at his sudden revival and exclaimed "Oh, sir, please don't do that. We thought that we had lost you last night" and explained that on the advice of Mr. Fogg, he had been sent to make sure that Jean was all right and found him completely unresponsive on the bed with a very weak pulse. As Jean rubbed his eyes he replied "Non, monsieur, I was protected" and with that he closed his eyes remembering the last image of his dream of Porthos turning around and with a broad smile flexing his mighty chest and throwing the tabbard at Jean as if to say "Yours, mon amis for you are the modern Titan!"

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Chapter Eighty Five

Despite everything that occurred that night, the Henrietta was true to Phileas’s assessment and although battered and bruised by the storm and Timothy’s treachery, it was still sailing along the following day. As the captain came up on deck, he just stood there in stunned silence as he looked at the damage, then started to wail and hit his head with his hands, sank to his knees and screamed “I’m ruined, you hear me, Fogg, RUINED!” and almost as if he had lost a relative, he started to sob. As Phileas arrived on deck, squeezing his lover's arm and whispering "And how is our little Hercules this morning?" to inspect the damage for himself, the Captain quickly took his anger out on the man who was now captain.

“Well, I hope you’re satisfied, Mr. “keep the engine at full speed during a hurricane” Fogg!”

Phileas nodded in agreement and accepted the assessment that the Henrietta was a wreck and confirmed that he would be reimbursed for the damage caused. This act of kindness by the Englishman was too much for Speedy to take and jumping to his feet, he let Phileas have it with both barrels.

“Do you have any idea what you are saying?” he bellowed right in Phileas’s ear, causing the gentleman to shut his eyes, “You have absolutely no idea how much it would cost to repair this ship. Admit it, you’re a landlubber, who fancied himself as a captain but come the first storm and it’s….”

“At a conservative estimate, twenty thousand dollars” replied Fogg after twiddling his finger in his ear

Just then, Mr. Fix dashed onto the deck in a blind panic, declaring that by keeping the engines at full speed all the coal had been used up. Although Phileas queried this, the captain gloated at this piece of news.

“Well, of course” he said, “I did warn you how wasteful keeping the engines at full speed was, but did you listen, no, and now look at you, you’re in command of a vessel which in about, oh, three hours, will be going nowhere fast!” and with that he turned his back on Phileas adding “If one of those boilers had exploded, the whole ship would have burned out!”

Although most people would have bowed their head, and apologised, that last sentence stirred something in Phileas’s mind and as he rubbed his chin he said slowly, “Burn the ship”. He then suddenly burst out into a beaming smile, clapped his hands and declared “Captain, you’re a genius!”

“I am?” asked the captain, turning around, “Well, I don’t like to boast you know!” he said accepting the accolade.

“Oh, less of the false modesty” said Phileas and placing an arm around his shoulders, he added, “Burning the ship, that’s how we’ll power the engines!”

“Well” replied the captain, “It was just a…” and then he paused as the full enormity of Phileas’s statement sank in and as it did, he erupted “Now, wait just a cotton-picking minute here, Fogg, I’m the legal owner of this ship and I am not going to let anyone…”

“Which is why I want to buy it!” replied Phileas leaving the captain completely mystified.

“You want to buy the Henrietta?” he asked, slowly

“The whole ship, sir” Phileas said, “Except for the steel hull, this ship is made of wood and I think you will agree with me that wood would make an excellent replacement fuel for the coal?”

“Well, yes” said the captain, and realised he was being made a fool of and grabbing Phileas’s cravat he brought him in close and said “Now listen, you, I am not letting you take me for a ride. You told me that it would take twenty thousand dollars to repair the damage…”

“Which is why I want to buy it for sixty thousand dollars, sir!” replied Phileas, calmly

“SIXTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!” exclaimed the Captain, Jean and Fix, at the same time but all for different reasons. The Captain’s exclamation was down to the sheer profit margin. With that amount of money, he could not only repair the Henrietta but build a whole new version of her. Fix’s exclamation was down to the fact that at this rate his five per cent share of the reward money would be nothing and Jean’s exclamation was because, well, that would be the last of the money.

“Do we have a deal, sir?” asked Phileas holding out his hand.

After a pause, Speedy started to chuckle and asked “If I agree to this purchase, would I be correct in assuming that I retain the engine and the hull? And that when we get to Liverpool that is all that will remain?”

“You are correct on both points, sir!” smiled Phileas

“Mister” the captain said, “you’ve got yourself a deal” and leapt in the air for joy and after shaking Phileas’s hand so firmly, Jean was concerned that it might fall off, placed both his hands on Phileas’s shoulders and declared “Congratulations, sir, you are now a shipping magnate!” and hugged Phileas just for good measure. As he walked away from the embrace, there was a rather loud cough from Phileas and as the captain turned around, he said “Whoops, sorry” and readjusted Phileas’s hat that had fallen over his eyes and with that bounded off to his quarters full of the joys of spring. Phileas then turned to his manservant and announced “If you see anything made of wood, you have my express permission to chop it into little pieces. Start at the top and work your way down to the deck!”

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” he beamed and with that the demolition job began.

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Chapter Eighty Six

To effectively demolish a ship from top to bottom meant that the crew had to be ruthless in their efficiency. No one and nothing was permitted to stop them. The cook lying on a table supported by buckets nursing his painful back and a splitting headache from the previous night?

“Excuse me, monsieur” said Jean as he tipped the cook onto the floor and then left with a “Merci, monsieur!” leaving the cook to lose his temper and as he ripped off the disguise Timothy muttered “One of these days” and kicked one of the buckets with his foot only to howl in pain.

The captain, chuckling at his desk, thinking about the profit that he was going to make?

“Sixty thousand dollars!” he smiled, leaning back in his chair, “for an old derelict that’s been in service since the 1850’s. I’ve struck it rich, I have. Sixty thousand from Mr. Fogg, plus I get to keep the hull and engine, which shouldn’t cost more than twenty thousand and then sell her again for eighty thousand. Oh, Captain Speedy, you are a businessman par excellence!” and laughed

“Excuse me, sir” said Mr. Fix as he entered the captain’s quarters, “but I have a list of items for Mr. Fogg” and as he read them off the list, Drummond came in and extracted each one.

“One reading chair, check!”

“Ow” exclaimed the captain as Drummond tipped him out of it and onto the table

“One bed, check!”

“Right, sir” said Drummond and attacked it with a venom.

“Hey” said the captain, “what are you two playing at?”

“One table, check!”

“Now look here” protested the captain, “where are you going with that table and what was a bed?”

“Boiler room” replied Fix as they left leaving the captain fuming shouting “What am I going to sleep on tonight then, the floor?”

As Jean approached the mast that he had lifted off the cook the previous night, he found a saw at the foot of the mast. As he picked it up, his mind was suddenly cast back to all the dangers they had faced on the way. The countess on the train to Paris, the lady in the carriage who attacked them, the ghost in the temple. Someone was out to stop them all the way and had to be on the ship still. As he used the saw to cut the mast into smaller pieces, he vowed there and then that the next time he saw him he would give him what for.

And where was the attacker? Timothy had decided that the only place he was liable to get any peace and recover was in the upturned jolly boat on the deck and was now lying down underneath it, planning his revenge on both Phileas and that manservant. As he came up with a plan that was so wicked, he imagined all the villains in history pleading with him not to go through with it, an axe exploded through the bottom of the boat and landed just inches from his face. As another one landed just inches from his feet, followed by another one and then another one, he burst out of the lifeboat and screamed “What in the blue blazes is going on here?” only to find himself facing the two men he least wanted to meet. As Fix and Drummond stared in disbelief at the man who had just popped out of the jolly boat they’d been chopping, Fix thought to himself “I’ve seen that face somewhere before, but where?” and was about to ask the man what he was doing, when he fled and dashed back into the ship, leaving both policemen to come to the same conclusion.

“What an odd young man!” they both said, before shrugging their shoulders and resuming their demolition of the jolly boat.

By the end of the first day, everything that hadn’t been nailed down in advance had been burned and after taking a reading at sunrise the following day, Phileas declared that they were about five hundred miles from Liverpool, however the chief engineer warned that unless the wood carried on coming, they would stop some three hundred miles from Liverpool so Phileas announced that the deck would the next victim of the chopping frenzy.

“Well” moaned Speedy as he opened his eyes after a terrible night’s sleep, “as least I have a roof over my head still!”

As he spoke, an axe appeared in the roof his quarters and a few moments later a hole appeared through which Jean appeared and said “Ah, bonjour, Captain, sleep well? Do excuse me, but my master has ordered that the deck be burnt as well!”

“Aw, now come on!” protested the captain, “can’t I at least have some privacy?”

His answer came in the form of a plank of wood that knocked him unconscious.

The ferocity at which the plank was being pulled up came as a surprise to most people, but Jean soon found out just how fierce it was. As he was sawing part of the hull, he failed to notice Drummond pick up the end of the plank of wood he was standing on and thus was flung overboard. Grabbing hold of the decking, he screamed “Well don’t just stand there” and as Drummond peered over the edge he added “GET ME BACK ON BOARD!”

There was a polite knock at Aouda’s quarters and Fix entered. He bowed politely and asked “Madam, I do apologise, but may we use your door to ensure our progress to England?”. She consented and as he thanked her, he closed the door and announced “Right, Drummond, one door for the chopping of!” and within seconds, the door had been reduced to chipping. As Drummond picked up the pieces and dashed off, Fix entered again and asked if the chaise longue she was sitting on could also be used. She stood up and nodded and less than a minute later that too was chipping. As Fix and Drummond left, the inspector apologised saying “Please forgive my manners!” and rushed their new fuel to the engines.

That night was a strange experience of all on board. As the Henrietta carried on her way, Aouda could see the stars from what remained of her cabin and both policemen slept like logs. One man who could not though was Jean and deciding that he should assist as best he could in the wheelhouse was shocked to find his master, still at the wheel after nearly thirty-six hours. As he enquired to his master’s health, he was horrified to see his master all haggard, his eyes bloodshot and although still being polite saying things like “Do excuse me, Jean, but I need to move port a bit, there’s a pink elephant trying to pass me!”. Jean quickly rushed to Speedy’s quarters, where the former captain gasped as he heard the reports and after a little cajoling from the two men, Phileas agreed to have a sleep and was soon snoring in the corner of the wheelhouse.

“Why is he doing this to himself?” asked Speedy, “it’s not natural for a man to go without sleep for that long!”

Jean, who for so long had burdened himself with the reason for this journey, unburdened himself upon the former Captain, explaining about the wager, explaining about all the attacks on them and explaining that unless they arrived back in London in precisely twenty-four hours’ time his master would be destitute. As Speedy looked at the sleeping Englishman he sighed, “Well, that’s not going to happen” and explained to Jean that per the dials in the wheelhouse, the engines were going to lose all power within the next five hours and still be at least three hundred miles from Liverpool.

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Chapter Eighty Seven

“But, monsieur” pleaded Jean, “there must be something you can do?”

Speedy rubbed his chin and examined a map on the wall and asked “Would Cove do?”

“A cove?” asked Jean, “what would a cove do?”

“Not Cove” replied Speedy, “Cobe, otherwise known as Queenstown, down here!” and pointed to the bottom coast of the island of Ireland. Gently taking his master’s Bradshaw, Jean flipped through the pages and found, to his delight, that a train was due to leave the town for Dublin at two o’clock. It would arrive in Dublin at daybreak and then, almost by sheer coincidence, connect to a paddle steamer that would arrive in Liverpool before midday on the final day of the wager. As he flipped through the pages, he muttered “Please, please, let there be a train” and as he found the page he shrieked with delight and thrust the book into Speedy’s face saying “Look, there’s  train leaving Liverpool at two o’clock which will arrive back in London by eight o’clock, a full forty minutes before my master has to report back to the Reform Club” and with that he hugged the former Captain with all the passion of his lover and said “Oh, Captain, you have saved my master!”

“Then, Queenstown it is!” smiled Speedy and taking the wheel, Jean informed Aouda and the policemen of the change of plan, as soon as he had Fix roused Drummond and said “Drummond, we are within a whisker of completing our mission. As soon as we land in Liverpool, we’ve got him!”

“Sir” exclaimed Drummond, “you’re…you’re not going to, are you?”

“I have to” said Fix, almost with a heavy heart, “I’m an inspector!”

Of course Jean was not privy to this but as he returned to the wheelhouse he knelt by his master and whispered "We're going to do it, my lover!" to which a smile crossed the sleeping master's face and Jean wondered what his dreams were of

***

"Well Jean, we did it, I say, Travelled around the world in seventy eight days. Did you see the expression of shock on Mr. Sullivan's face eh? Now, let's split this cash shall we. First, the dear Princess, I believe five hundred pounds will be enough to get her to the Netherlands. Tomorrow, she will be on her way to her relatives and it will just be the two of us again. That leaves thirty nine and a half thousand pounds which when put into a high interest savings account will generate two hundred and sixty three pounds a month interest. Excellent, that will help us along nicely and shall I tell you why I did this wager?"

Jean nodded

"It's to become able to do something I have wanted to do for ages. Now, you clearly know about the labours of Hercules, remember that mast on the Henrietta, and of course you know about Porthos, the strongest of the Musketeers? Well, before we left I read a very interesting book that suggested, and I hope that you are sitting down for this Jean, it is possible to extract the essence of long dead people and give their direct relatives that essence. Imagine it Jean, your strength enhanced by the factor of Porthos? And why was I interested in this? Well, did you know that I am related to Thomas Topham, the strongest man ever to live in England?"

Jean started to pant and moan

"Precisely Jean, imagine it, the two of us living in the same house, each enhanced to be stronger than any man alive. Each day we would go about our normal duties, I would go to the Reform Club and you would look after the place but every night? Well, let's put it this way, Jean, don't plan on getting much sleep every night. Oh, Jean, I'm imagining it now. The two of us, locked in the basement each night, exercising with weights that would make even Donald Dinnie moan with desire. Oh, Jean, yes, Jean, I can feel it now. Can you, my lover?"

Jean nodded as he ripped off his trousers and disrobed

"Yes, me too Jean, Oh, Jean, take me, my lover. Let me experience the thrill of being held by the strongest man in France bar none. I need to feel those powerful muscles squeezed against mine, yes, let me feel that ragged breathing, your pounding heart, yes, Jean, oh, yes, Jean. Oh, yes, I can feel it, Jean, Jean, give me everything you have!"

As Jean squeezed his master as hard as he could both men came and as they slumped into each other's unconscious bodies Phileas moaned "Now, let's do that again in a month's time, when Thomas Topham's descendant gets to wrestle the son of Porthos, eh?"

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Chapter Eighty Eight

“Gentlemen, wonderful news, the China has docked!”

The news that was received by the Reform Club caused several of the members to scratch their heads and it was Mr. Sullivan who addressed the matter head on.

“Sir, the China docking on schedule is not good news”

“I beg to differ, Mr. Sullivan” replied the man, the owner of the shipping company that the China was part of, and with that he unfurled a large piece of paper over the snooker table. “This is a manifest of the passengers in alphabetical order and if you look carefully you will see there is no mention of a Fogg anywhere on it!”

As Mr. Sullivan examined the list carefully, he started to smile and announced “Gentlemen, Phileas has lost the wager. The China is the only ship arriving from New York within the time limit and he is not on the list!”

“NO!” exclaimed Lord Albemarle and sought support from Mr. Ralph, but he shrugged his shoulders and said, sadly, “I think they are right Your Lordship” and with that took a piece of paper and started writing an editorial apologising for raising the hopes of the British people and announcing that he would be resigning from the newspaper at the end of the year.

***

As the paddle steamer from Dublin arrived in Liverpool harbour, three of the passengers didn’t even wait for the gangplank to be put in place before leaping onto the quayside. These three people were Timothy, who had one final plan to dispose of Phileas Fogg, and the two policemen who ran as fast as they could towards the only place that had the necessary manpower to do what they resolved to do. Fix was going to arrest Phileas, and for that he needed a body of men. After a very hurried explanation to the person in charge of the Custom House, who didn’t entirely understand what was going on, the warrant was thrust in his face and acting on the authority of Her Majesty, he authorised the policeman to take a detachment of six men who all ran back to the docks and stopped Phileas with a “Phileas Fogg!”

“Ah, hello there Mr. Fix” smiled Phileas, “well, it may have taken eighty days, but you are now back in England. I hope that you have a great deal of success with your business, now if you will excuse me…” but before he could take another step, Mr. Fix thrust the warrant in front of him.

“This warrant authorizes the bearer to arrest Mr. Phileas Fogg on the charges of…” read Phileas and then exclaimed in incredulity, “bank robbery? Mr. Fix, what is the meaning of this?”

“That’s Inspector Fix, to you” smiled Fix, “Inspector Fix of Scotland Yard” and with that he said “For two months I have been following you, but now that you are on English soil again, I’ve got you! Now, are you going to come quietly, or do I have to get tough?” and with that gestured the burly policemen who had gathered behind him.

“You are a fraud!” yelled Jean and rugby tackled the inspector to the ground saying “You are never an inspector; this was all an act to get my master to pay your way!”

“Jean” declared Phileas, “that man is indeed an inspector!” but it was too late as Jean slapped the inspector across the face. As the inspector collapsed into Drummond’s arms, he chuckled. “Oh, now I’ve got you!” and exclaimed “Men, arrest them both. The gentleman for bank robbery and his manservant for resisting arrest!”

***

Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the Custom House in Liverpool, and he was to be transferred to London the next day. And in the cell with him was Jean, crying his eyes out and wailing all manner of lamentations. All this would have been avoided if only he had told his master the truth about the inspector and the constable and on several occasions, he imagined himself grabbing the gun from the guard and killing himself and all the while Aouda remained, despite the cold, under the portico of the Custom House. Inside the building, Fix and Drummond were taking things easy for the first time in what felt like ages. Drummond was catching up on his sleep, whilst Fix was reading the local newspaper. He knew that it would be impossible to get back to London before Christmas and had decided that despite Drummond’s numerous annoyances, he had grown to think of him as a friend, and was therefore going to rent a room in Liverpool over Christmas to recoup their scattered wits. As he browsed through the newspaper, looking for possible rooms, he found an article that piqued his interest.

“Commissioner Rowan of Scotland Yard will be in Liverpool today to complete the formalities regarding the bank robbery of the Bank of England on September 29th this year. He will attend the Custom House before returning to London in the evening” and with that he smiled. Rowan had obviously heard about his arrival and had dashed all the way from London to meet up with him to reward him and offer him and Drummond a lift back to London. So, when the commissioner arrived, Fix was more than overjoyed to see him. However, Rowan was rather on the confused side.

“Inspector, what are you doing here?” he asked

“My duty!” he said, puffing out his chest and explaining about Phileas. As he did, Rowan’s face turned from surprise to downright anger.

“YOU BILTHERING IDIOT, FIX!” he roared with such volume that Drummond was woken up and fell off the chaise longue. As the commissioner snapped his fingers, two policemen entered and with them was a gentleman who was looking at the ground in dismay.

“May I present” said Rowan, trying to restrain himself, “Mr. Archibald Travers” and as he turned to the prisoner he said “Hold up your head, sir, and let us see your face!”

As Archibald raised his head, Fix screamed in horror. It was almost as if he was looking at Phileas’s twin brother, the only difference between the men was that Archibald’s moustache was much bushier than Phileas’s.

“We arrested him, three days ago” explained Rowan, “he denied it at first but when we found all the money in his house he confessed to the crime” and with that turned to Fix and bellowed “AND WHAT DO YOU DO? YOU ARREST AN INNOCENT MAN! GAD, WHEN THE HOME SECRETARY HEARS ABOUT THIS I AM LIABLE TO LOSE MY JOB!”

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Chapter Eighty Nine

As Archibald was taken away, Fix held his cap in front of him and whispered “Shall I free Mr. Fogg then?” and was answered by a pair of ferocious looking eyes. Rushing down to the cells, Fix and Rowan screeched to a halt outside Phileas’s cell and at the order from the Commissioner the cell was opened. The Commissioner entered and coughing politely began his apology.

“Mr. Fogg, please accept my apologies on behalf of the Metropolitan Police”

“Apologies, sir?” asked Phileas standing up.

“Yes, you see, we, that is the Metropolitan Police, had been given a description and an artist’s impression for the bank robber who robbed the Bank of England, three days before you left, that was so akin to you, well, in short, Mr. Fogg, you’ve been wrongfully arrested!” came the reply

Phileas looked long and hard at the inspector and asked “Does this mean that both myself and my manservant are now free to resume our journey to London?”

“Indeed you are, sir” said Rowan, “however there is someone here who owes you an apology as well” and with that he pushed the inspector forwards until both he and Phileas were almost touching noses.

Fix just couldn’t stand being so close to Phileas and said “Go on, sir, I know you want to. Punch me in the nose, I deserve it!” and with that closed his eyes.

“I disagree” said Phileas, and as the inspector opened his eyes, with the only rapid motion he had ever made in his life, or which he ever would make, drew back his arms, and with the precision of a machine punched Fix in the stomach.

“Good hit!” cried Jean, “Parbleu! that’s what you might call a good application of English fists!”

“Now” said Phileas, “if you will excuse me, we have a train to catch” and with that walked over Fix still curled in agony on the floor.

“Here” said the commissioner, “let us assist, it’s the least we can do” and with that peered around the corner of the cell and bellowed “Get Mr. Fogg the fastest coach we have, on the double!”

A few moments later, Phileas and Jean were reunited with Aouda and as she kissed Phileas on the lips. Jean smiled as they did, it was clear beyond anyone’s reasoning that the two were made for each other. As they went outside they were amazed to find not a horse driven coach but the very latest steam driven coach. As they clambered in Jean declared “The station, please, monsieur”, however as he climbed in and the driver replied, “Right ho, guv” in a broad Scouse accent, the driver’s eye glinted and he chuckled “Get ready Phileas, for the last ride you’ve ever going to take!” and with that drove off, just as Fix and Drummond charged out of the Custom House.

“Please, Mr. Fogg” Fix shouted, “I need you to…”

“Bye, bye” said Drummond as he waved to the departing coach.

“…hear me say sorry” whispered the inspector and then turned to his companion and declared “Drummond, you’ve been told to obey everything I tell you, haven’t you?”

“That’s right, sir!” he said, “A good constable always listens to his inspector!”

“Good” he said, and then standing in front of him he said “Punch me in the nose!”

“SIR?” exclaimed Drummond

“Go on” Fix said, closing his eyes, “Mr. Fogg punched me in the stomach, which was good, but to really learn my lesson I need a good punch in the nose!”

“Are you feeling alright, sir?” asked Drummond

“Constable Drummond!” he declared, his eyes tightly shut, “I am officially ordering you to punch me in the nose, NOW!”

“If you’re ordering me, sir!” said Drummond and delivered such a punch that Fix was propelled back a good five feet and landed face down on the pavement. As Drummond lay beside him, he asked “Was that alright, sir?”

All Fix could do was groan in agony.

***

“I’m worried” said Phileas as he examined his watch, “the next train for London leaves in precisely five minutes!”

“Allow me, monsieur” and with that Jean popped his head out of the window and said “As fast as you can, monsieur!”

“With pleasure” the driver replied and with that Timothy let off the brake. As the coach started to speed up, the passengers inside started to get bounced around. As they crossed a bridge over the river Mersey, Jean became suspicious and decided to find out why they seemed to be heading back to the docks and so asked the driver so.

“Well, isn’t that a shame?” replied Timothy, dropping all pretenses about being a Liverpool resident, “you’re going to miss the train to London, then aren’t you?” and then suddenly took such a sharp left hand turn that Jean was very nearly flung out of the window. Hanging on for dear life, he muttered “This driver is crazy” and so climbed onto the roof and then sat down next to Timothy and demanded to know why he was travelling in the wrong direction.

“Well” replied Timothy, with a wicked smile, “that depends on what direction is the right direction? Anyhow, just because your master has arrived back in England doesn’t mean he’ll arrive back in London, does it?”

Jean suddenly realised something. He had heard that voice before. It was the time when he had punched a man, disguised as a French aristocrat off the coach that was heading away from Paris on the second day of their journey. As he had landed in the lake, he cursed loud enough for Jean to hear and now, he had heard that voice again. It was the person who had attacked them throughout the whole journey and as he realised this his anger fueled his strength as he grabbed Timothy and attempted to pull him out of his seat, but Timothy responded with a punch and sent Jean flying. In the time that it took Jean to recover, Timothy was now standing on the roof and then suddenly pulled out a knife.

“It is you!” Jean declared as he recognised one of Maximillian’s knives and his anger now at boiling point, launched himself at Timothy, but was beaten back by the threat of being stabbed and tripped over something and landed heavily next to the steam engine. As Timothy took his chance, Jean rolled out of the way and instead of stabbing Jean, Timothy punctured a valve and let rip the loudest whistle that any steam engine had ever produced. The noise stunned both men but Timothy was the first to recover and gained the high ground.

Almost in desperation, Jean leapt at him and the two men were in a struggle. The two men were evenly matched but Jean knew he had to get this attacker to drop his knife, so resorted to something that Hercule had taught him all those years ago. If you find yourself being attacked with something, use your own defenses, so Jean bit Timothy on the wrist. As Timothy screamed in pain, he dropped the knife, which was shattered by one of the coach’s wheels. Now, it was down to pure brute strength, but somehow Timothy was just as strong, perhaps even stronger than Jean as demonstrated when he kicked him with such force that he collided with the chimney and bent it. Jean managed to grab hold of the chimney, and gritting his teeth against the pain of the hot metal, held on dear life. Timothy, chuckling as he did so, stamped on Jean’s hands and said “Bye, bye, you meddling fool!”

However, cries from the panicked residents alerted Timothy to the fact that the coach was heading towards a building and jumping into the driver’s seat he managed to avoid crashing into a bakery, but took the corner so hard that Jean was flung into the baker’s window and smashing it as he held on. Grunting with effort, he clambered back onto the roof and started to pound Timothy with his foot. Timothy responded in kind as he bit Jean’s knee causing the manservant to scream and collapse to the ground. As he nursed his knee, Timothy took full advantage and started to strangle him causing him to appear, upside down at the opposite window of the coach.

“Jean!” exclaimed Phileas and apologising to Aouda for his “ungentlemanly exit” from the coach, climbed out of the window and punched Timothy on the hand. As Timothy recovered, Phileas knelt by his lover. His knee was bleeding badly but his fire and determination was still there and so with his master holding him, so he didn’t put any more pressure on his knee, Jean delivered first one then two powerful punches before his master delivered the coup de grace as with his good leg and his master’s other, they both kicked Timothy in the groin at the same time. Timothy screamed in pain and unable to balance fell off the coach and rolled along the road just behind the coach.

“The coach” exclaimed Phileas and helping his injured lover, they both took control and within a matter of moments, they were heading in the right direction. Jean and Phileas looked at each other, smiling, knowing that the only way they would lose their wager now was down to themselves.

They brought the coach to a screeching halt outside the main railway station in Liverpool and gesturing for his lover to clamber onto his shoulders, Phileas descended and allowing Aouda to leave the coach they all ran to the platform hoping that they could catch the last express to arrive in London before the deadline. Sadly, they had not, the train was even now puffing into the distance.

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Chapter Ninety

As Aouda tended to Jean’s injured knee, the manservant imagining himself filled with the might and strength of Samson, Hercules and Porthos and the skills of the American cowboy and fashioning a rope out of a nearby chain of metal, lassoing the train and pulling back to the station as if hauling a beast of burden back to the stockade, Phileas set about trying to find an alternative. The guard was helpful by telling him that the next passenger train to London was due to leave Liverpool at six o’clock that evening, but as that would arrive in London by midnight, that was a nonstarter, and that was the only train due to leave Liverpool that day. So, when a train whistle suddenly blew, Phileas asked “And that is not a train, sir?”

“That is a train” replied the guard, “and it is headed to London, but I am sorry you may not get on it?”

“And why not?” asked Phileas

“Because it’s a freight train, sir, freight trains do not carry passengers!” came the reply

“We’ll see about that!” said Phileas and strode off in the direction of the train. The train was in the final stages of getting ready for the journey and was reversing down the track. As it met the buffers of the guard’s van, Phileas applauded the driver, which took him rather by surprise.

“A perfect shunt, sir” said Phileas, as the driver climbed down to secure the fittings, “you must have been doing this a very long time!”

“Thank you, sir” replied the driver in a broad Irish accent, “it’s very rare to be praised for what I do every single day!”

“I have been a firm believer of praising where possible” smiled Phileas, “may I enquire where you are going?”

“London, sir” the driver replied, climbing back on board the engine

“And may I ask how long it takes to get there?”

“My goodness, sir” smiled the driver, “are you one of these train spotters I keep on hearing about? I operate under the strict guidelines laid down by my company, sir. I am obliged to complete the journey in as close to six hours as physically possible!”

Phileas opened his watch. The time was now ten to three in the afternoon.

“Tell me, sir, hypothetically speaking, do you believe it is possible to do the journey in less than six hours?” Phileas asked

The driver rubbed his chin and replied “Possibly, yes, but you’d have to be awfully lucky with the points”

Phileas decided to come to the point and ask if it was possible to board the train with two other passengers.

“Sorry, sir” came the reply, “Passengers aren’t allowed on a freight train. It’s against the regulations. If I did, well, I would be fired straight away!”

“Sir” said Phileas, “I must reach London by a quarter to nine this evening and your train is the only way I can do it. If you can take me and my friends, and you are sacked because of my actions, I promise to ensure you get fair representation at your tribunal and, if the worse comes to the worst, I shall find you an alternative job that pays more than your current position!”

“Hold on a second” said the driver as he leaned out of the cabin, “I think I recognise you” and as he stared at Phileas, he started to smile and clapped his hands. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re that Phileas Fogg fellow who’s trying to travel around the world in eighty days, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged” replied Phileas with a chuckle

“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” replied the driver and leaned out even more and said quietly “I have a cousin who wagered five pounds on you at two to one that you would do it. Do you know how much fifteen pounds would mean to him?”

“The world?” replied Phileas

“More than that, sir” replied the driver, “it would pay his rent for the next three years. You know what, sir, hang the regulations!”

“Thank you so much, sir!” and with that Phileas gave a loud whistle and a moment later, Aouda and Jean, hobbling slightly came to the side of the engine and introduced them as his passengers.

“Right” said the driver, “Madam, if you will be so kind as to go into the guard’s van and you two gentlemen can ride with me in the engine itself, just keep out of sight whenever we get to a station, yes?”

After the final trucks were added and the points changed, the train was given the all clear and at three o’clock precisely on December 21st 1872, the train left Liverpool with three extra passengers. Phileas had managed to catch yet another unscheduled service and this time didn’t have to outlay any money, but if he didn’t reach London within the next five and three quarter hours, the ten pounds lying at the bottom of the bag would be the only money he had, so it should come as no surprise to hear that every fifteen minutes the gentleman made a note of where they were, how far they were from London, how fast they were going and their estimated time of arrival.

As the train travelled through Cheshire and the industrial town of Crewe, Phileas’s calculations showed that the train was travelling at thirty-five miles an hour meaning that they would arrive in London forty-five minutes after the deadline, this calculation was confirmed as they travelled through Stafford and again at Lichfield. Having received the same news three times over, Phileas turned to the driver and asked why the train didn’t seem to be going as fast as the driver had expected.

“Oh, that will be the freight sir!” he replied, “we are carrying rather more than usual, thanks to it almost being Christmas!”

“If, purely hypothetically speaking of course” ventured Phileas, “if you were to leave the freight behind?” and with that winked at the driver.

“Oh, Mr. Fogg” chuckled the driver, “my mother told me there’d be people like you around, but you know what, I agree with you. The devil take the hindmost as my father used to say!”

“That’s the spirit!” smiled Phileas and turned to Jean and asked if he felt strong enough to uncouple the freight wagons. Jean stood to attention, grimaced a little but replied “Oui, monsieur!” and surely, if a little slowly, clambered over the coal in the wagon next to the engine, climbed up onto the roof of the guard’s van, kept as close to the roof of the guard’s van as possible as he travelled along it, and then climbed down into the back of the guard’s van. As the train sailed past the station in the town of Nuneaton in Warwickshire, Jean uncoupled the freight and it slowly started to be left behind. A fact that the stationmaster was not too pleased about.

“HEY!” he shouted as the train disappeared into the distance, “What am I supposed to do with all this freight eh?

As Jean climbed up to the roof of the guard’s van, he chuckled and said “Nothing to do with me, monsieur” and made his way back to the engine and reported the fact to his master. The deliberate loss of the freight seemed to do the trick as the speed increased to move the estimated time of arrival to precisely a quarter to nine. Phileas needed an extra five minutes from somewhere and so ordered Jean to help with the shoveling. By the time the train reached Bletchley in Buckinghamshire, they had made up an extra minute, but still Phileas needed more and so he joined in the shoveling as well. With an hour to go, they were at Aylesbury, some forty miles from their destination and the driver said “Sir, this train is going faster than any freight train ever” and per the calculations, now being done mentally with the driver writing the sums down, they had a three-minute leeway, a leeway that could have been lost at King’s Cross station, if the driver hadn’t swapped keys at the first attempt despite travelling at close to forty-five miles an hour. In fact, as the train arrived at Paddington, it was travelling so fast that the brakes couldn’t hold the train and it slammed into the buffers at the end of the track bending them something awful.

Phileas offered to carry Jean, but he felt confident that his knee was strong enough to run on and so as they all poured out of the train, they ran. The last calculation was they had two and a half minutes to get to the Reform Club, eight hundred meters from the station, a feat that would require almost superhuman effort and as it was Phileas who had to arrive, he took the mantle and ran as fast as he could. However, as they darted out of the station, Phileas screeched to a halt and wailed in horror at the sight. His watch had been wrong; all his calculations were wrong by a full five minutes. For as they looked at the clock outside the station, it gently ticked to twelve minutes to nine. He wasn’t two and a half minutes early; he was two and a half minutes late.

“For a while I thought we could do it” Phileas said sadly

“What now, monsieur?” Jean asked

“We walk home” his master replied, “it’s all we can afford to do!”

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Chapter Ninety One

As the party made their way back to Phileas’s home, none of them spoke the entire way. Twenty minutes later, they arrived and as they did, Phileas sighed. He gently walked up the steps, touched the doors gently, and then gesturing to his manservant who gave him the key, he opened the doors. He walked in, looked around and after Jean had lit the lights, walked to the clock in the hallway. As he did he sighed again and said simply “How ironic” as he noted the clock had stopped at a quarter to nine. He then turned to his travelling companions and feeling his heart break addressed them.

“Jean” he started, “I cannot thank you enough for your friendship and loyalty, and yours as well, Princess. Please, Jean, show the Princess to a spare room and then you may retire!”

Jean nodded and asked Phileas when he wanted to take breakfast.

“There shan’t be any breakfast” he sighed, “come tomorrow morning I won’t have the money to even pay your salary” and with that started to walk upstairs to his room saying only “Goodnight” which Jean thought sounded as if he was going to burst into tears. As he started to follow his master, Aouda stopped him and said “He needs time to be on his own”

After showing Aouda to a spare room, Jean returned to his room in the top of the house. The first thing he noticed was his lamp which he turned off, plunging the room into darkness. The lamp that had been burning the whole eighty-day journey and as he lay on his bed, he knew there was only one course of action. His master couldn’t afford to pay his bill or indeed hire a manservant, therefore, as much as it broke Jean’s heart, he would have to leave his lover and the only man he had ever admitted being inverted to. As he felt tiredness fall across him, he moaned “I would do anything to stay with my master, anything” and with that he fell asleep.

“Please rise for the honourable Justice Obadiah, on loan from the Royal Court Houses of Calcutta!”

As the court rose, the judge entered. Today was the day that the country had been waiting for. Ever since he had lost his wager, Phileas Fogg’s character had been dragged through the mud, so when an allegation emerged that he and his manservant had been involved in a homosexual relationship, the press went mad and suddenly accused him of everything that had gone wrong with Britain since the independence of the United States. As the judge began his summing up, Phileas and Jean sat in the dock wondering what would happen and replaying the case in their minds.

First, the prosecution laid out the groundwork. Despite all their precautions, their sexual antics had been spied upon and when the defence counsel, Phileas himself, stated that under British law none of the evidence would have been accepted as it had been obtained whilst the witness was committing a crime themselves, namely being a peeking Tom, the Home Secretary found himself being dragged into it and was called before Parliament to issue a statement on the matter. That statement, which announced that it would be no longer a criminal offence to be a peeking Tom, caused uproar with the papers supporting the government calling it a “moment of common sense” whilst those opposed suggested that “the minute that someone finds out something against this government, the lies that this government have put forward will be found out”. Thus, the evidence was admissible.

The defence decided to adopt a purely character based evidence and so over the course of the defence, all the people that Phileas had encountered were brought to the Old Bailey. All of them agreed that, on the surface, Phileas was the perfect English gentleman, but when cross examined by the prosecution, chinks started to appear in the armour. Captain Mason, head of the US Cavalry in Nebraska, had to admit that he was inverted and was given a dishonorable discharge thus, Colonel Proctor announced “I knew there was something odd about him, that’s why I challenged him” and even the train driver who had driven him to London had to admit that, under the letter of the law, Phileas had hijacked the train.

“Gentlemen of the jury” announced the judge after an hour of summing up, “You have heard the evidence!”

The foreman of the jury stood up and led them into the jury room. There was nothing more that could be done except wait, and my word, did they make people wait but finally after fifteen days, a verdict had been reached and the main show court was packed to the brim with reporters from all over the world.

“Have you reached a verdict on which you all have agreed?” asked the judge

“We have, your Honour” came the reply

“On the charge that Phileas Fogg and Jean Passepartout did, on several occasions, conduct homosexual acts, how do you find the defendants?”

“Guilty, your Honour” came the reply and instantly, the court erupted. The newspaper reporters all started scribbling as if there was no tomorrow and it took the judge nearly five minutes to restore order. As Jean and Phileas looked at each other, they knew that this was the end.

“The verdict has been passed” announced the judge, “and therefore sentencing is due. Jean Passepartout will stand” and as he did, he started to whimper

“You have been found guilty” the judge said, “but I believe it is because you were led by Mr. Fogg. Therefore, I will show leniency. You are to be jailed for ten years!” and with that he banged his gavel causing Jean to collapse in tears. However, as Jean was led away, worse was to come, and as the judge reached for a black cap the entire court gasped.

“Phileas Fogg” he stated, “You have been found guilty of the crime of homosexuality!"

Phileas bowed his head and announced "Your Honour, there is no need to pronounce the sentence. I know that you are going to condemn me to death, therefore Your Honour, I wish to die in a manner of my own choosing. I have long considered hanging a cruel and barbaric method of execution therefore, beg permission to be taken to the United States where, at a time of their choosing, I wish to subject myself to their tests of a new form of execution devised by Mr. Edison, namely having a large amount of electricity pass through my body killing me instantly"

After a discussion between the judge and the Secretary of State for the Empire who was present on behalf of the Government, there was a nodding of heads and the judge declared "So be it!" and with that banged his gavel

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” screamed Jean

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Jean screamed and with that woke up in a cold sweat. As he tried to recover his breathing, he gasped “It was a nightmare!” and started to recover. As he did, he looked at the watch that was sitting beside his bed. It showed the time as being two o’clock and as he drew the curtains, still panting from his dream it was clear that it was two o’clock in the afternoon. As he recovered he knew what he had to do and as he got dressed he sighed “Goodbye, my lover!”

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