time-historical The Tale of the Muscular Manservant

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Forty Four

 “Put your back into it, I’ve seen faster Chinamen than you!”

Jean mopped his brow and carried on shoveling coal into the furnace that seemed to be hotter than the fires of damnation. It was the end of his second day of torture, and his body was starting to show the signs. His chest was heaving, his stomach even more muscular than before thanks to the lack of food and sweat covering everything. All the while Timothy bellowed orders at him and chuckled under his breath. He knew that only someone with the constitution of Hercules could withstand these tasks and if Jean were to become disabled as a result, then Phileas’s journey would be ruined as he would never continue his journey without his lover.

“You call that a fire?” Timothy bellowed, “I’ve seen hotter days on Brighton beach, now shovel!”

It took Jean the rest of the night to make the fires meet Timothy's exacting standards and as he collapse from exhaustion, his dreams that night proved that the villain's schemes were beginning to work

As Jean pulled on the handle of the doorbell outside the imposing castle, he looked at the card again. According to the agency that hired him out as a manservant stating "If you managed to survive Mr. Fogg, then you can survive anyone" his new master was a medical doctor and therefore likely to be a person who could afford him, so he was a little surprised when a manservant, admittedly bent over answered the door, but Jean, as he had done with Phileas doffed his hat and introduced himself. The existing manservant chuckled and as he allowed Jean to enter added "Fresh meat, yes?" to which Jean nodded replying "I am a little on the hungry side, yes" before screaming as he felt himself fall down a cellar.

As he came too from his fall, he found himself facing a man who was examining him very closely. As he introduced himself to the person who had employed him he added "Just making sure that nothing got damaged, after all, you're very precious to me!" and with that carried on his examination paying very close attention to Jean's arms, legs and chest all the while smiling and saying "Yes, excellent, you have chosen well!". Before Jean could thank his new master for the compliment, he was rather surprised to find himself completely naked and sitting in a metallic chair with his wrists and ankles in clamps. As he asked what this was in aid of, his master replied with a wicked smile "Oh, didn't they tell me my first name? Oh, I guess that must have slipped my mind. It's Francis, Frank to my friends!"

Jean's eyes instantly opened wide and as he stammered "Doctor Frank..." it was completed by his new master cackling "enstein and you are to endow my creation with the one element that will make him a true man. Your brain has been used to controlling your powerful muscles all your life, it is that which my creation needs. The knowledge inside your mind about to lift heavy things and move itself. Igor, prepare him for the transfer!"

The other manservant rammed a metal helmet onto Jean's head and before he could do anything, he screamed in agony as electricity from the very heavens surged into him. It was a scream that it was said could be heard from the doctor's castle in darkest central Europe to the seas of China.

As Timothy watched Jean toss and turn in his sleep, his wicked smile grew ever bigger.

"One more day, my friend" he whispered, "one more day and then you will be no use to anyone!"

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Forty Five

“Ah, smell that sea air, Mr. Fogg, makes you glad to be alive eh?”

“With the greatest respect, sir, I fear that we are sailing into another typhoon!” came the restrained reply

“Exactly” said the captain, “there’s a good smell before a storm and this is the best I can ever recollect!”

“A typhoon!” declared the Inspector, “and you intend to sail straight into it? This boat will…”

“Have a care, sir” said the captain, his voice becoming threatening, “you are a guest of my goodwill and I will not have guests passing comment on my crew and ship without retribution!”

The inspector gulped and the constable held on to him for dear life.

“Right then” commanded the captain, “let’s show these Englishmen how the real captains of the sea sail a storm. You there, bring in that sail. You, up to the crow’s nest” and with that he grabbed hold of the tiller and announced “Ah, this is the life!” as he was doused by a wave.

Phileas, not wishing to cause the Princess any distress, retired to their cabin whilst the inspector and constable went to the depths of the hold and tied themselves to the mast fearing the worst.

“If we go down, Drummond” said the inspector, “and believe me I think we will, “tying ourselves to the mast means that we have the greater chance of surviving!”

“Well” replied the constable, “look on the bright side, at least we are not underwater yet!” but no sooner had he spoken than a torrent of water entered the hold coming up to their feet. On deck, however, the crew were showing no fear with the captain keeping his place at the tiller all night long ensuring that the faithful ship served his purpose.

***

As Jean sat high up in the rigging, he sighed. It was day three of his journey to Japan without his master and he had managed to find a place of seclusion. No more being bellowed at by the purser, no more having to work his body to the bone and for a moment at least, he could enjoy the warm sunshine on his body. As he did, he took out his gift from Egypt, which he had hidden in his long johns that morning and held it out. As he turned the dial to N for November and held it out at arm's length, the little dot of sunlight hit the nine and as it did he sighed.

“Fifty-four hours of work” he said to himself, “and only six hours sleep each night. I don’t know how much more of this I can take!” and with that he looked to the horizon and whispered “Please, I am not a citizen of your nation, but please, Japan, save me from this torment!” and with that closed his eyes in prayer.

As Timothy looked up at Jean wistfully looking into the distance, he smiled wickedly. All it needed was a little nudge and he would be looking at a five thousand pound payoff so taking a deep breath he gave Jean a nudge, a very loud verbal nudge.

“GET BACK TO WORK!”

Jean jumped out of his skin and as he did so Timothy closed his eyes, smiling as Jean's screams of terror filled the air, the thump as he hit the deck at best (as far as Timothy was concerned) dead at worst suffering two broken legs and two broken arms. However the smile on his face soon faded as he became aware of no screams and as he opened his eyes he cursed under his breath as there was Jean, hanging into the yardarm by a single arm gritting his teeth and hauling himself back onto the rigging with an object still held in his other hand. As Timothy stamped the deck in frustration he wondered if this man was indeed a man or some kind of man like Eugene Sandow, a man, if Timothy's sources were correct, who could bend the iron bars in a prison cell wide enough to escape from. As Timothy rubbed his chin in thought he wondered and as he did his smile resumed as he thought of the one way to get rid of anyone, no matter who strong they were.

***

“Are you sure, sir?” asked Phileas

“I am sorry, Mr. Fogg” replied the Captain, “but I will not be able to take you to Yokohama as promised. That storm did a lot more damage than I had feared and well, we will be lucky if we get to Shanghai!”

“Shanghai?” exclaimed Mr. Fogg, “I don’t want to go to Shanghai!”

“I rather think you do, sir!” said the captain, chuckling, “You see, sir, I happen to know every single route of every single ship in this part of the ocean and the ship that you are after, the General Grant, leaves Shanghai around now heading to Yokohama where it then goes on to San Francisco!”

Phileas’s eyes opened wide and he consulted his Bradshaw’s and exclaimed “It does! But how, sir?”

“Have you not wondered about my appearance, sir?” asked the Captain and stood in front of Phileas as if standing for inspection. He was wearing a bandana on his head, had a patch over one eye and a jacket that seemed to resemble a military uniform. As Phileas looked at the Captain he said, “I do not see anything strange about it!”

“This is the uniform of my great grandfather, sir” said the captain, beaming with pride, “His name of Old One Eye Joe, the greatest pirate ever to sail these seas!”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and gasped as Phileas said “Does this mean?”

“Allow me to formally introduce myself” smiled the captain, “My name is Young One Eye John and when the need arises, the pirate blood that runs through these veins comes to the fore!” and with that he issued commands that only a pirate could. The inspector, who had been up on the poopdeck, rushed down and said “Sir, we cannot work with these criminals!”

“Do you want to connect with the General?” asked the captain, “or do you wish to sleep with the fishes?” and with that made a cutting motion across his neck with his finger.

“We wish to connect with the General” announced Phileas adding to the inspector, “and yes sir, we shall be accomplices!”

For the next few hours, the ship headed for Shanghai transforming from a merchant junk into a pirate ship with the travelers on board helpless to stop another act of piracy on the high seas.

“Ship ahoy on the port bow, Captain” called the look out and as the Captain pulled out his telescope he smiled from ear to ear.

“There be our target, me lads” he bellowed, “All hands-on deck, prepare the cannons!”

As the travelers watched in horror, two cannons that had been hidden under canvas were revealed and placed at the bow of the boat. As the cannons were loaded, Drummond grabbed the inspector and said “Sir, this is against the law. Aren’t you going to arrest them or something?”

“DRUMMOND” yelled the inspector, “I knew that you were an idiot, but this is the limit. If I did arrest them, then who steers the ship, eh?”

“Fire at will” ordered the captain and he lit the first cannon which sent its shot towards the General Grant and landed about ten feet off the port bow. Jumping for joy the captain exclaimed “We’ve found the range, boys, another one!” and the second cannon was fired whilst the first one was recharged. For five minutes the barrage continued until the captain called “Cease fire” as the General Grant came to a stop. Beaming, the Captain turned to Phileas and said “One General Grant, for the boarding of, sir!” and as he realised what had happened Phileas couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Yes, the captain was the great grandson of Old One Eye Joe, one of the fiercest pirates ever to sail the South China Sea and as such he did indeed know how to intercept and catch the attention of every ship that sailed in the area.

As a jolly boat left the Tankadere and headed to the Grant, the captain on the Grant stood on deck and waved as it approached. As the two ships met, Phileas stood up and announced “Permission for a party of four to come on board, sir?”

“Permission granted” replied the Captain in a board American accent, and as Phileas stepped on board the Captain shook his hand and said “Mr. Fogg! I knew that we were hosting you but I never expected your arrival to be like this?”

“Neither did I actually” came the reply

And with that the General Grant set off again to Yokohama and as the travelers stood on the deck, they received a farewell salute from the captain of the Tankadere in the form of a firing of both cannons at the same time and as Phileas doffed his hat in return he said “Farewell to the brave Captain Young One Eye John whose skills shall be written about for centuries!”

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Forty Six

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am offering ten to one AGAINST Phileas Fogg completing his journey around the world. Yes, that is correct, AGAINST”

As Mr. Ralph walked past the bookmaker, his face reflected the odds. Phileas had missed the Carnatic and was almost certain to miss the General Grant as well. As he approached the offices where he worked, he sighed. It was his timetable that had set Phileas on this adventure and now he was beginning to regret it. As he entered the building, he decided to unburden himself on his employer.

“Mr. Weston, people don’t care about Phileas any more” he said, “ever since he missed the Carnatic there’s been no interest in him at all. Why, look at our newspaper for tomorrow morning. Is it leading on Phileas’s journey? No, it’s leading on that book written by the Captain of the Chancellor whose ship capsized three years ago. Mr. Weston, why aren’t we covering Phileas anymore?”

“Because” replied Mr. Weston with a stern expression, “people aren’t buying our newspaper, that’s why! Remember, it was your article that sent Mr. Fogg on this expedition and ever since he missed the Carnatic, our newspaper has had to catch up on all the other news that has been happening. Good night, sir!” and with that Mr. Weston left the offices leaving Mr. Ralph all on his own. Sighing, he started to make his way home and started grumbling under his breath.

“I don’t see why I should be taking the blame” he grumbled, “It was Mr. Fogg who missed the boat, not me. I’m just a journalist. Everyone picks on us reporters, it’s just not fair” and with that he kicked a stone that was lying in his way.

If it were possible for Mr. Ralph to know about him, he would take some solace in knowing that Jean was almost feeling very fed up and miserable. It was now nearly seventy hours he’d been working and with only eighteen hours of rest in that time, his body was ready to pack up. Even now as he was scrubbing the deck of the Carnatic, he could feel himself wasting away and with that he collapsed onto the deck and moaned to anyone that would hear “Monsieur, I am exhausted”

“LAND AHOY” shouted the look out, “YOKOHAMA DEAD AHEAD!”

“Japan?” moaned Jean and as he looked up, his eyes opened wide. There on the horizon was the starting of a mountain and a few moments later a town on the coast. He’d made it. He had survived to Japan despite everything the purser had done to him. He dragged himself to the railings and took in the sights however he was still the prisoner of the purser who picked him up with a “Hey, what do you think you’re doing, eh? I’m still in charge of you until we dock, so get back to the scrubbing!” however Jean could only manage a few strokes before he collapsed unconscious on the deck. He awoke several hours later to find himself dumped on the harbour at Yokohama his clothes on top of him and as the sun started to set could be found standing on one of the many bridges in the town looking very forlorn.

He had managed to recover from his ordeal on the Carnatic and although now fully rested, he was still hungry. Try as hard as he could, he simply could not remember the last time he had eaten but knew that it had to have been in Hong Kong and that mean at least four days. As he patted his growling stomach, now covered by the clothes that he had worn since leaving London which he had found dumped on top of him, he started to explore the city hoping, perhaps against hope, that someone who take pity on him.

The Japanese quarter of Yokohama is called Benten, after the goddess of the sea, who is worshipped on the islands around about. There Passepartout beheld beautiful fir and cedar groves, sacred gates of a singular architecture, bridges half hid in the midst of bamboos and reeds, temples shaded by immense cedar-trees, holy retreats where were sheltered Buddhist priests and sectaries of Confucius, and interminable streets, where a perfect harvest of rose-tinted and red-cheeked children, who looked as if they had been cut out of Japanese screens, and who were playing in the midst of short-legged poodles and yellowish cats, might have been gathered.

The streets were crowded with people. Priests were passing in processions, beating their dreary tambourines; police and custom-house officers with pointed hats encrusted with lac and carrying two sabres hung to their waists; soldiers, clad in blue cotton with white stripes, and bearing guns; the Mikado’s guards, enveloped in silken doubles, hauberks and coats of mail; and numbers of military folk of all ranks—for the military profession is as much respected in Japan as it is despised in China—went hither and thither in groups and pairs. Passepartout saw, too, begging friars, long-robed pilgrims, and simple civilians, with their warped and jet-black hair, big heads, long busts, slender legs, short stature, and complexions varying from copper-colour to a dead white, but never yellow, like the Chinese, from whom the Japanese widely differ. He did not fail to observe the curious equipages—carriages and palanquins, barrows supplied with sails, and litters made of bamboo; nor the women— whom he thought not especially handsome—who took little steps with their little feet, whereon they wore canvas shoes, straw sandals, and clogs of worked wood, and who displayed tight-looking eyes, flat chests, teeth fashionably blackened, and gowns crossed with silken scarfs, tied in an enormous knot behind an ornament which the modern Parisian ladies seem to have borrowed from the dames of Japan.

Jean wandered for several hours in the midst of this motley crowd, looking in at the windows of the rich and curious shops, the jewelry establishments glittering with quaint Japanese ornaments, the restaurants decked with streamers and banners, the tea-houses, where the odorous beverage was being drunk with sake, a liquor concocted from the fermentation of rice, and the comfortable smoking-houses, where they were puffing, not opium, which is almost unknown in Japan, but a very fine, stringy tobacco. He went on till he found himself in the fields, amid vast rice plantations. There he saw dazzling camellias expanding themselves, with flowers which were giving forth their last colours and perfumes, not on bushes, but on trees, and within bamboo enclosures, cherry, plum, and apple trees, which the Japanese cultivate rather for their blossoms than their fruit, and which queerly-fashioned, grinning scarecrows protected from the sparrows, pigeons, ravens, and other voracious birds. On the branches of the cedars were perched large eagles; amid the foliage of the weeping willows were herons, solemnly standing on one leg; and on every hand, were crows, ducks, hawks, wild birds, and a multitude of cranes, which the Japanese consider sacred, and which to their minds symbolize long life and prosperity. As he carried on his walking, he heard a whistle and was rather surprised to find a train passing next to him on a raised railway. He watched it go past with an amazed expression on his face and said “I never dreamed I would see a train here!”

His observation was responded to by peals of laughter and he turned around to see a person pulling what looked like a buggy in almost hysterical laughter. The man, dressed in traditional clothing, walked up to him and said, albeit with a Japanese accent, “Train start running six months ago, honourable stranger. At first we scared, but now are used to them”

Jean looked at the buggy behind him and ventured whether he had lost a horse.

“Ah” replied the man, “you new to Japan, yes? This called rickshaw. Please, I take you to station?”

Jean thanked the man for his offer but declined explaining his circumstances and the man seemed to take pity on him and before Jean could refuse, the man offered to take him to his wife so they could share dinner with him. Jean was overwhelmed and accepted on the spot and with that clambered into the rickshaw and soon was heading towards his first meal in nearly a week.

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Forty Seven

The house that Jean was being taken to reminded him more of a chalet than a house, but those concerns were soon ignored as the wife presented him with a bowl of noodles. A bowl that was quickly emptied and with a polite “Could I have some more please?”, a second bowl was demolished in a similar manner. As the hosts watched their guest in amazement, Jean’s mind now turned to the situation he was in. He was in a foreign country, without his master who would be stuck in Hong Kong for at least a week if not longer, and without so much as a centime to call his own. He was going to have to find employment and so asked what jobs there were.

“What can you do?” asked the wife

Jean smiled, closed his eyes and repeated what he had told his master when they first met.

“I’ve been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard, and dance on a rope like Blondin. Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics, so as to make better use of my talents; and then I was a sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big fire” and with that opened his eyes to see the two hosts nodding in sage agreement.

“Then you go to circus!” said the man and got up from his seated position and came back a few moments later holding a poster saying “Circus not far from here!” and handed it to Jean who read it carefully.

“ACROBATIC JAPANESE TROUPE” announced the poster, “HONOURABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR, PROPRIETOR, LAST REPRESENTATIONS, PRIOR TO THEIR DEPARTURE TO THE UNITED STATES, OF THE LONG NOSES! LONG NOSES! UNDER THE DIRECT PATRONAGE OF THE GOD TINGOU! GREAT ATTRACTION!”

“United States” thought Jean to himself and suddenly had an idea. He had never been an acrobat but given how strong he was, especially now fully fed, he could be an acrobat and as this troupe was heading to the United States, he could go with them and wait for his master there knowing that he would arriving in the country at some point in the future and with that declared “Then take me to the circus!” however his declaration of intent was heard by two ears that really should not have heard and as Timothy rubbed his hands with glee he said “Phileas Fogg, once I have finished with your manservant, you will never travel ever again” and with that raced off into the night.

The following morning the rickshaw driver delivered Jean outside the field where the circus had pitched tent and after thanking his host for everything he had done, which was replied with a desire that he come again that evening if his attempts were not fruitful, Jean took a deep breath and entered the field. He found a person hammering a sign into the ground and asked to speak to Mr. Batulcar.

“You already are!” came the reply as the man turned around and nearly gave Jean a heart attack. He was one of the biggest men he had ever met in his life, but as he recovered with a gulp he asked “Would you like a servant, monsieur?”

“A servant!” cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick grey beard which hung from his chin. “I already have two who are obedient and faithful, have never left me, and serve me for their nourishment and here they are,” added he, holding out his two robust arms, furrowed with veins as large as the strings of a bass-violin that caused Jean to press his legs together as he felt the first twinges of hardness.

“Then, you cannot help me gain employment?” Jean asked with a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Sorry” came the reply, but then he stopped and said “No, actually you might be able to help” and placing a hand on Jean’s shoulder that made him very uncomfortable turned him in the direction of the big top saying “Go in there and ask for Max, I think you’ll do very well indeed!” and as Jean nodded, he couldn’t help but think Mr. Batulcar was chuckling under his breath. As he entered the big top he called out "Excusez moi, is there a Max here?" but didn't get any reply and so carried on. As soon as he entered the big top, the smell of greasepaint hit him and triggered so many memories that he closed his eyes and was soon imagining seeing his old circus friends including Hercule, flexing his powerful arms dressed in a tiger skin, winking at Jean as he bounced his chest as if to say "Fancy grappling with these, mon amis?" and as Jean opened his eyes again, he moaned gently "Oui, mon amis" and continued his exploration of the tent. 

As Jean looked around he saw loads of things that he recognised, save one. A very large wooden board that was perched at an angle with an outline of a person on it. Jean scratched his head trying to figure out what on earth this was but couldn’t figure it out and so stood in front of the board and looked around to see if he could garner any clues.

“HOLD VERY STILL PLEASE, SIR!” came a booming command from the rafters of the big top in a very strong English accent and before Jean had a chance to process what was happening, a knife embedded itself into the board just inches above his hat. Terrified, Jean grabbed the sides of the board and following the sound of a chuckle looked up to where the trapeze artists plied their art and saw a man dressed almost entirely in black.

“Allow me to introduce myself” the man said, “my name is Maximillian and I am the man that you are looking for! I hope you don’t mind auditioning for the role now, you see my current assistant is in the hospital on account that he got scared and flinched at the wrong moment. But you look like a brave lad, so I’ll carry on and see if you’re good enough to replace him!” and with that threw another knife that landed as far from Jean’s cheek as the first knife had done.

Jean was terrified and couldn’t move out of sheer fright. This was unbridled torture and as knives continued to rain down, each landing just inches from his body, Maximillian was chuckling the whole time. As the last knife embedded itself just below Jean’s cock, Maximillian stated “Excellent, sir, see you this afternoon” Jean collapsed onto the ground still quaking with fear. No sooner had he landed on the ground than another knife embedded itself into the board and as Jean turned around, he shrieked in horror. The knife had landed right where his chest had been just seconds ago and would have led to Jean being killed, stabbed through the heart.

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Forty Eight

The General Grant sailed into Yokohama Harbour exactly on schedule with two anxious passengers on the deck looking out over the harbour and as they looked over the ships the Princess asked “Could he be here, sir?”

Phileas looked over the ships with concentration writ on his face. In the days since catching the General Grant, he’d been sending messages to and from Hong Kong and Yokohama trying to determine what had happened to Jean. The only clue he had got was that the Carnatic had arrived in Yokohama a few days previously and that one of the crew matched the description of Jean that Phileas had given. This proved that he had been pressganged and wasn’t lying dead in the gutter of some alleyway in Hong Kong, therefore there was only one course of action and although it sounded a daunting task, Phileas replied “We shall have to search the entire city to find him!”

As Fix overheard this intent, he rubbed his hands with glee and walking down to meet his colleague he said “This gives us the perfect opportunity to find that man before his master does” and explained about his admission of the truth to Jean which took the constable quite by surprise. As he placed a friendly arm around his companion, Fix announced, “Now, to get off this boat before Phileas sees us, we have a date with the British ambassador!” and so using the skills taught to him at Hendon, Fix and Drummond managed to slip off the Grant completely unnoticed and half an hour later were ushered in to meet with the ambassador to Japan. They found him reading something and politely introduced themselves.

“Ah” said the ambassador, “so that’s what this is about then?” and handed the note that he was reading to Fix who stared at it in disbelief and shook as he read it.

“This warrant allows for the arrest of Phileas Fogg…” he read and continued to do so as the ambassador related its tale.

“You know, I really can’t imagine how it took so long to get here” he said, “It’s disgraceful if you ask me. I mean a document as important as this shouldn’t have taken forty days to get here. It went through Bombay, then Calcutta, Singapore and Hong Kong before it arrived here. I’ve a good mind to make a formal complaint, with your permission of course?”

However, Fix couldn’t care less about the ambassador’s laments. He was now chuckling with a massive grin on his face, a grin that slightly concerned Drummond until Fix leapt for joy and declared “Do you know what this means, Drummond? It means that we’ve done it! We are in possession of the singular piece of paper than can stop Phileas in his tracks. Oh, my dear sir, you have no idea how thankful I am for your persistence. I would like you to summon the chief of police for this town, and ask him to bring with him ten, no twenty stout men so that we can all swoop down on the wolf and arrest Phileas. Oh, Drummond, I’m so happy I could kiss you!” and as the Inspector planted one on the slightly bemused constable, the ambassador was having a poor time trying to get a word in edgeways.

“GENTLEMEN” he bellowed, “THERE IS SOMETHING THAT SEEMS TO HAVE SLIPPED YOUR MIND. YOU ARE NOW LONGER IN A MEMBER OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE!”

Sensing that the ambassador was trying to tell him something important, Fix pushed Drummond aside and paid the ambassador due attention.

“This” he added, “as you have clearly seemed to have forgotten, is an independent nation that goes by the name of Japan, and unless you wish to lead a military expedition to conquer this nation and make it accede to the Empire all you have there is a worthless piece of paper!”

Fix’s world just collapsed around him and as he sighed “Back to the old drawing board, Drummond” and with that sighed and took his leave of the ambassador and resumed their quest to find Jean before Phileas and the Princess.

It would have given Fix a great deal of comfort to know that he was well ahead of the aforementioned persons as they were getting nowhere fast. Having hired a rickshaw, they were searching Yokohama high and low trying to find their friend. On several occasions, they thought they had found him only to discover that the residents were a very good resemblance to their lost companion. As the rickshaw came to a junction, Phileas suddenly gasped as he noticed a poster that seemed to show someone almost akin to Jean being part of a knife throwing act at a circus. He tapped the person pulling the rickshaw and asked, in perfect Japanese, if he knew where the circus being advertised was.

“Are you talking about the person in the poster, honourable sir?” came the reply

Phileas nodded adding “Do you know him?”

“He came to my house yesterday” replied the rickshaw man, “I took pity on him as he looked exhausted and told him about the circus that is here before heading to America!”

Phileas and the Princess looked at each other in amazement. The goddess of chance was on their side and so Phileas commanded the rickshaw man to take them to the circus as fast as possible and twenty minutes later they had arrived at the site. Buying tickets, they took their seats in the upper gallery, all the time watching to see if it was indeed the man that they were looking for.

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Forty Nine

There was a mighty drumroll on wooden drums and Mr. Batulcar entered the grand ring and announced “Welcome to the strange and wonderful world of Mr. Batulcar” and as he spoke, a parade of the acts walked around the grand ring. Phileas looked at each of them closely, but couldn’t see any of them that matched Jean. This was because Jean was backstage, quaking like a leaf. In the time since his audition, he’d been dressed up as “a follower of Tingou” in an outfit that made anyone looking for him, see him up close and still not recognise him. He bore upon his shoulders a splendid pair of wings; but what especially distinguished him was the long nose which was fastened to his face. And he wasn’t the only one as many other people had them as well. These noses were made of bamboo, and were five, six, and even ten feet long, some straight, others curved, some ribboned, and some having imitation warts upon them. But as the other acts before him were called to perform, Jean couldn’t stand the torture and so sat down, crossed himself several times and prayed.

“Ladies and gentlemen” announced Mr. Batulcar, “Presenting the world’s best knife thrower, Maximillian!”

As he emerged from backstage, he flung his arms open and announced “Thank you, thank you, but I would be nowhere without my companion, therefore will you please welcome Naej to the stage” and a bright light picked up Jean who gulped, took a deep breath and entered the arena. He bowed and took his place in front of the board before gulping again and reversed into it with his arms and legs outstretched. As he did, Maximillian addressed the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the next few moments, I must insist on absolute silence. A single lapse of concentration and it will be the end for my companion” and with that he turned to face Jean adding “I will admit I am a little out of practice” and before Jean had a chance to react three knives embedded into the board inches from his head and hands at which point Maximillian turned, bowed and received a rapturous round of applause. He then stood up and raised a hand, calling for silence and announced “I am now about to attempt a feat that has never been performed before. I shall blindfold myself, turn around on the spot three times and then throw this knife so that it lands right between my companion’s knees!”

Jean gasped in horror. This was too much for him and he started to move away from the board. Only he couldn’t. It was almost as he was stuck to the board out of fear. As Maximillian approached him to pick up the blindfold he said, with a hint of malice, “Oh sorry, didn’t I mention this to you? Oh, dear, what a pity you didn’t know that I had painted that board with the strongest glue known to man, after all I wouldn’t want you moving now would I?” and as he walked away he laughed wickedly.

Jean took a deep breath and pulled with every ounce of his strength, but it was no good he was well and truly stuck and as Maximillian blindfolded himself, turned around three times and raised the knife Jean gulped. This was the end of the career of Jean Passepartout and from that moment on time seemed to crawl.

Maximillian threw the knife and as soon as he had done so, Jean knew he was dead. The knife wasn’t heading between his knees; it was aiming straight for his chest, specifically his heart. He knew that only two things could save him now, a miracle from on high, or his own powerful muscles in his chest. So closing his eyes, he flexed his pecs as hard as he could, wishing "Please, someone, save me!". As he did he suddenly became aware of a whistling noise and squinting saw the impossible. A cane hit the knife six inches from Jean's chest and sent them both flying high into the rafters of the big top. As they fell to the ground, Jean's eyes opened wide in amazement. It was the cane of his lover, his lover was somewhere in this circus and had saved his life. As the cane landed in the sand of the top, Jean's eyes opened so wide it was almost as if he was screaming in ecstasy as the knife that has been destined to kill him was now embedded in the cane.

“And now” continued Maximillian, taking off the blindfold and producing another knife, but was silenced by Phileas who leapt into the grand ring and delivered a punch of such power that Maximillian was knocked out cold. As he ran over to his lover, he grabbed him by his outfit and pressing his foot against the board pulled with every ounce of his strength. Slowly, but surely, the costume started to rip and Jean was extricated and the two lovers fell on top of each other to cheers and roars from the audience. As Jean got to his feet, he bowed politely, despite the fact he was wearing nothing than a pair of long johns and helped his lover to his feet and whispered “Bow, my lover, they think it’s part of the show” and so Phileas did so.

That evening as the Grant set sail from Yokohama, Jean now back in his usual manservant outfit, celebrated his freedom from the tyranny of the purser on board the Grant and Maximillian, the knife thrower, by singing and dancing all over the ship. As his master and the Princess watched on, they looked at each other and smiled, knowing that the happy band of travelers had been reunited on the most arduous part of the journey, the crossing of the Pacific. However, if they had known that watching the happy scene from the poopdeck was Fix and Drummond and that watching from the crow’s nest was Timothy, nursing a bruise where Phileas had punched him, their joy would have been very short lived.

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Fifty

It was the morning of November 23rd 1872 and on board the Grant, an air of jollity seemed to pervade across the ship. Jean was overjoyed because for the first time since he had left London, the clocks on board the ship, his Swiss watch and the sun clock all showed the same time, Phileas was overjoyed as between his rescue of his manservant and today, he and his manservant had agreed that once they had returned to London, having won the wager, they would fund the Princess to return to her family in the Netherlands once they had been located and after that date, “the Victorian gentleman and the Victorian hero would engage in strenuous exercise once again” and the princess was happy because of her benefactor’s announcement of the plan to return her to her family, so it should come as no surprise to hear that as the three of them walked on deck that morning, they were all humming musical airs, partly in celebration, but partly due to the fact that the previous evening the Captain had announced there would be a going away party the evening before they docked in San Francisco and that there would be a prize for the best cabaret performance by the passengers and as I am sure you will have guessed by now, with a circus performer amongst their party and a natural singer to boot, they were confident that they would win, all they needed was a song.

Two people however who would not be entering the contest were the Inspector and Constable, who had been doing their level best not to be seen lest they spy Jean and have to answer some very difficult questions. Sadly, for the inspector, Drummond was getting a distinct case of cabin fever and so, the inspector agreed to him taking the air on deck but only for a few moments. As Drummond took in several deep breaths of fresh sea air, the inspector made sure the coast was clear and walked around the entrance to the deck from the cabins below and froze in horror as he saw Jean limbering up at the end of the deck ready to run around it to celebrate the union of his clocks. Grabbing Drummond, he dragged him to the side of the ship and whispered “Whatever you do, don’t move” in the hope that Jean would ignore them. However, as Jean ran past them, he screeched to a halt and slowly walked over to the Inspector and tapped him on the shoulder. The Inspector’s Englishness meant, that almost by instinct, he turned around and as he did Jean gasped, then grabbed the Inspector by the scruff of his neck and slammed him against a vertical surface and, much to the amusement of a group of Americans, who immediately began to bet on him, administered to the detective a perfect volley of blows, which proved the great superiority of French over English pugilistic skill. Once he had finished, the inspector slumped to the ground and said “Have you finished with me?”

“For the time being” came the cold reply

As Drummond helped the inspector to his feet asking “Sir, can I arrest him for actual bodily harm?”, Fix spoke candidly to Jean. He explained what happened to him in Hong Kong, that he had been clonked on the head by an unknown assailant and whilst it was true that he was trying to get Jean drunk so that he would not be in the position to board the Carnatic with his master, nothing after that clonk on the head was down to him.

Jean seemed to be vanquished by Fix’s coolness, for he quietly followed him, and they sat down aside from the rest of the passengers.

“You have given me a thrashing,” said Fix. “Good, I expected it. Now, listen to me. Up to this time I have been Mr. Fogg’s adversary. I am now in his game.”

“Aha!” cried Jean; “you are convinced he is an honest man?”

“No,” replied Fix coldly, “I think him a rascal. Sh! don’t budge, and let me speak. As long as Mr. Fogg was on English ground, it was for my interest to detain him there until my warrant of arrest arrived. I did everything I could to keep him back. I sent the Bombay priests after him, I got you intoxicated at Hong Kong, I separated you from him, and I made him miss the Yokohama steamer.”

Jean listened, with closed fists and biceps bulging.

“Now,” resumed Fix, “Mr. Fogg seems to be going back to England. Well, I will follow him there. But hereafter I will do as much to keep obstacles out of his way as I have done up to this time to put them in his path. I’ve changed my game, you see, and simply because it was for my interest to change it. Your interest is the same as mine; for it is only in England that you will ascertain whether you are in the service of a criminal or an honest man”

Jean looked Fix up and down. Was he telling the truth this time, would he allow him master to hurry back to London this time?

Are we friends?” asked the detective.

“Friends? No,” replied Jean; “but allies, perhaps. At the least sign of treason, however, I’ll twist your neck for you.”

“Agreed,” said the detective quietly and with that left the deck and returned to his cabin knowing that from now on, his life was dependent on the quarry he was charged with catching.

Can I just say to everyone who has liked, upvoted or commented on this "Thank you very much indeed". I wrote this originally for a friend from Palm Springs who thought it was very good indeed, but I put that down to him being a good friend. Therefore I am pleased to state that I shall be publishing this via the Lulu website in the next few weeks and would be only to happy to post the link (with the rules about promotions followed to the letter) so that others can read the story in full. 

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Fifty One

“That was a delicious meal, sir” said Phileas as the waiter tidied away their lunch, “please pass our compliments to the chef”

The waiter smiled as he nodded. However, as he left, Jean unbuckled his trousers much to Phileas’s disappointment.

“Pardon, monsieur” he said, almost groaning, “but my stomach doesn’t feel very well. I think there was too much salt in the soup”

“What do you mean?” asked Phileas, “I didn’t notice anything odd about it”

“I know soup, monsieur” and with that he snapped his fingers hoping that the waiter would return so he could ask for a jug of water to try and settle his stomach, however the waiter had returned to the kitchen and with that excused himself and buckling his trousers as best he could, went to get some water from the hold.

The Grant, being a trans Pacific ship, had a whole deck of water for the voyage. After all, with each person on board being expected to drink a minimum of four pints to as much as half their bodyweight in fluid ounces each day not to mention all the cooking and washing that was done on board and no chance of refills bar in the Sandwich Islands, which even then only happened once a month, water was a precious resource, so Jean was rather surprised when he found no guard at the door that lead to the deck and could enter without anyone challenging him. Taking a bottle, he had picked up from the dining room, he knelt at one of the barrels and gently eased out the cork to fill it.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement and jumped out of the way as an axe smashed into the barrel he was filling his bottle from. In the seconds that it took him to recover, ten barrels, each containing hundreds of gallons of water, were now spewing their contents flooding the deck with several inches of water however the flow was increasing and soon it was up to his waist. He knew that unless he got off that deck and fast, he might well drown so fought against the increasing flow of water as more and more barrels unloaded their contents. He managed to make his way to the steps leading off the deck and once safe, he ran as fast as he could to his master to report the crisis, then, at his master’s insistence reported to the captain who after ordering an immediate investigation came a statement that, when relayed to Phileas, saw the gentleman’s face scowl. He demanded an immediate meeting with the captain where the same information was relayed.

“But that would put me behind my schedule!” he bellowed

“I can only sympathise” said the captain, “but whoever it was destroyed those barrels, and dosed the rest of the water on board with salt has forced my hand. We must dock at the Sandwich Islands. Yes, I know that’s two hundred miles to the south of our current location, Mr. Fogg, but I must look after all the passengers on board this ship. There is nothing more I can do, sorry!”

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Fifty Two

The Sandwich Islands, discovered by that great British Explorer Captain Cook, were now known as the Hawaiian Islands by most people, but the Captain always thought of them as the Sandwich Islands and Phileas, being a member of the country that discovered them was more than happy to accommodate the Captain’s choice of terms. The islands were a volcanic group of islands, demonstrated by the sight that first greeted the ship as it sailed towards the largest of them, with a towering volcano glowing in the early morning light. It was a sight that filled Jean with fear but for Phileas it was a demonstration that the latest suggestions, that it was volcanoes that built the continents that the people of the world lived on, was indeed accurate.

As the Captain scanned the beach, Phileas, Aouda and Jean were standing by to be taken on shore in order to explain the reason for their unexpected arrival, however the Captain was puzzled by the lack of natives on the beach explaining “The locals usually paddle out to us and challenge us on our reasons for visiting, it’s all part of local tradition of course and it gives the passengers something to watch as well”. Phileas reasoned that perhaps the locals had not seen them and so with that the order was given that a landing party would be assembled and a few moments later two crewmen of the Grant were rowing a jolly boat towards the beach with the Captain giving a potted history of the islands, to which Phileas was sagely nodding the whole time.

“As you probably know, Mr. Fogg, these islands were discovered by Captain Cook, just over a century ago now”

“Indeed he did, Captain” came the reply as the boat landed on the beach, “and if my memory serves me, he was done away with by the locals too”. This statement caused the Princess to gasp, but Phileas reassured her by adding, “but I dare say that compared to then, the locals today are much more peaceful and civilised”

The Captain nodded, but said “Still, best not take too many chances” and with that set the fear of God into Jean.

As the party travelled to a village where the tribal chief of the Hawaiian people lived, Phileas was interested to see what looked like a sort of prison cell and asked the Captain to explain it.

“It is” he replied, which came as rather a surprise to Phileas but was reassured by a statement of “but it hasn’t been used for years!”

Suddenly from inside the prison came a pleading “Please, help me, is there someone there?” in perfect English. The party all looked at each other in amazement and quickly ran over to the prison and calling, confirmed the presence of someone inside the prison. Phileas examined the barrier that was in front of the natural cave, gave it good tug and smiled to himself before gesturing to Jean and when he got close to his lover's ear whispered "Hercules, my lover, or is now a good time to show the skills of Hermes?" to which Jean smiled from ear to ear.

He moved back a couple of yards, he took a deep breath then waiting for his master’s signal, which came in the form of a nod of the head, he yelled “For the glory of France” and charged at the barrier shouldering it at the last moment and crashing through before landing on his stomach. As he got up, he dusted himself off and said “Monsieur, the door is now open!”

As the party entered they gasped in shock. There, bound with rope to one of the many statues inside the cave was a local. A local that the Captain knew as Monti. As the Captain demanded to know what happened, Monti, who was clearly in a bad state physically, opened his eyes and exclaimed “I’m free?” before he passed out again. As Jean ripped apart his bonds, Phileas and the Captain shouldered him both and dragged him out to the beach where Phileas ordered Jean to get as many coconuts as he could from the surrounding trees. A few moments later, having dosed Monti with as much coconut water as possible, Monti was started to recover from his ordeal and began to explain his circumstances.

“Since you last visited us, sir, this island has experienced many terrible things. Our king believes that the gods have cursed him, every time a ship from the mainland passes by the volcano rumbles, that leaves the king to think that he should reverse his decision to accept the American government’s invitation to build a port in Honolulu. And then, just last week, his daughter became frightfully ill. The king’s sorcerer was convinced that she could cure the daughter if everyone in the village believed she could. Well, you know me, sir, I am trying to became as educated as you and I know that would never work, but when I suggested signaling a ship to take her to the mainland, I was accused of being in league with devils that caused the princess to become ill and was thrown in that prison you rescued me from!”

“For goodness sakes” exclaimed the Captain, “we’re in 1872, not 1772, and we certainly do not believe in sorcery anymore!”

“You do not believe in it” said Monti, “I do not believe in it..."

"He / She / They do not believe in it" chuckled Jean but was shushed by his master

"...but the king does!” concluded Monti

“If I may be so bold as to suggest” said Phileas, “I believe that this king needs a good hard stern talking to!”

“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Fogg” warned the Captain

“It wouldn’t work” added Monti, “the king has been warned to be on the lookout for devil people. People who wear strange clothes, a woman wearing fine silks, two gentlemen wearing hats and one who is stronger than all the people of Hawaii put together. The King has believed every word of it, sir, and I fear that he might order your deaths!”

“Oh, he would, would he?” asked Phileas, “in that case I think it’s high time that we devil people had a word with him and think it would be suited if the man stronger than everyone else led the way, eh Jean?” and with that winked at his manservant who bent his arms and caused Monti to gasp in amazement.

[CardiMuscleman]

Chapter Fifty Three

As the party travelled towards the village, located in the depths of the tropical forest on the island, Jean found something that would help in their appearance and so as they approached the village, the guards gasped in horror and screamed (according to a summarised translation by Monti) “The man with the strength of the gods!” and fled their posts as Jean slammed the rock he had been carrying, that weighed almost as much as himself, into the ground and bellowed “We demand to see His Majesty!”

His Majesty came out of his hut in his regal clothes, a yellow sash across his muscular chest, with a loincloth the only thing covering his modesty. As he stood his ground, slamming a spear into the decking of his hut, he growled his anger at the party.

“Ah, good morning, Your Majesty” said Phileas, taking off his hat, “may I have a word please?”

The king’s response came in the form of words that no one could understand, save one, “Monti” and with that he picked up his spear and threw it at the prisoner. Jean leapt into the air, grabbed the spear and broke it over his knee and as he handed the broken spear to his master, Phileas smiled to the captain and whispered “Watch this” and then spoke in the same words as the King which took both the Captain and the King by surprise.

“You speak Hawaiian?” asked the Captain

“Just enough to get by!” replied Phileas who then gave a running translation of the conversation.

“It was I who released the prisoner, Your Majesty” continued Phileas, “on my own authority!”

“And why should I listen to you demons?” asked the King

“Again with the demons” sighed Phileas, “We have come to speak with you on a matter on some urgency. Our intentions are completely peaceful; we do not wish to upset you or the other tribes on these islands you call home!”

“I don’t believe that for a moment!” replied the King and with that ordered their arrest and within seconds the party was surrounded by guards, each of whom was bigger than Jean with their muscular bodies on display for all to see and armed with spears which they poked into the various members of the party with malice on their faces.

Suddenly, before anyone could stop her, Aouda moved in front of the Captain and Phileas, and asking Phileas to translate said meekly “We have heard that the Princess is ill. I am a Princess as well, and believe, sire, with your blessing, I might be able to cure your daughter!”

Phileas gasped in horror and taking Aouda to one side warned against such a course of action.

“What do you mean?” asked the King

“Let me see the Princess” said Aouda, “I promise to make her well again!”

The King rubbed his chin and announced “You have until the sun rises tomorrow to make the Princess well, if you do not, then you all be sacrificed to the volcano gods!”

Phileas, Jean, the Captain and Monti all gasped in horror and Phileas tried to convince Aouda not to agree, but she simply nodded. The fate of all the party were now in her hands and for once in his life, Phileas was not the master of his own destiny.

Aouda entered the room where the Princess was being cared for under an armed guard made up of the King and several of the guards. The King slammed a spear into the ground and gestured for the sorcerer to leave. As she did, she muttered something to Aouda that made her shiver slightly, even though she did not know what had been said and turned to Monti for a translation but he just shook his head.

As soon as she saw the Princess, Aouda gasped and made an instant diagnosis and with that ordered the party that had been permitted to be with her.

“Jean, Monti, I need some hot water, coconuts and Kasara roots and I need them ten minutes ago!”

Both men instantly jumped into action and set about their tasks. Monti oversaw the hot water and pointed to the coconut grove where Jean gasped at the height of the trees. There was only one way to get them and that meant climbing them. As he climbed up the tree, he could feel his muscles bulging under his jacket and feel himself getting hard at the exertion, but he ignored the images forming in his mind of him wrestling his master naked, or flexing against Hercules and of thrusting his now hardening cock into the glutes of that famed French strongman Porthos and focused on the task at hand. Picking the coconuts, he placed them into the pockets of his jacket and having gathered enough he climbed down slowly and raced back to the village where Monti was waiting for them. As he cut them open, he poured the coconut water into the hot water and then handed them to Jean telling him to extract as much of the insides as possible. Jean nodded and for the next twenty minutes the two men worked like slaves knowing that not just the Princess’s life was on the line, but theirs as well.

As Jean carried the shell carrying the hot water, coconut water and coconut fibre, he could feel every muscle in his body crying out in agony. This shell was even heavier than the two barrels he had lifted back in Paris, but as he slowly walked he gritted his teeth. This feat of strength was not being done to say “Thank you” to a friends, it was being done to save the lives of everyone, those in the next door room waiting for the result of the treatment, himself, Monti and the princess, and all the passengers on the Grant. So when he placed it on the ground, the fact that he half collapsed into Monti’s arms showed that once again, he had put the need of others above himself.