Frederick Marryat

Frederick Marryat

Summary

Portrait of Frederick Marryat Frederick Marryat,  The Phantom Ship — Chapter XX (1839)

“ My age—my profession—are a sufficient warranty," replied Father Mathias, somewhat confused at this unexpected attack.
"Not always, Father, if what I have been told of monks and priests be true," replied Amine. "I ask again, why comest thou here into an unprotected woman's chamber?"
"Because I felt convinced that she was practising unholy arts."
"Unholy arts!—what mean you? Is the leech's skill unholy? is it unholy to administer relief to those who suffer?—to charm the fever and the ague which rack the limbs of those who live in this unwholesome climate?"
"All charms are most unholy."
”
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Frederick Marryat Frederick Marryat,  The Phantom Ship — Chapter XX (1839)

“ Look you, Father, at these ashes—they may, with oil, be rubbed into the pores and give relief—but can they do more? What do you expect from them—a ghost?—a spirit?—like the prophet raised for the King of Israel?" And Amine laughed aloud.
"I am perplexed, but not convinced," replied the priest.
"I, too, am perplexed and not convinced," responded Amine, scornfully. "I cannot satisfy myself that a man of your discretion could really suppose that there was mischief in burning weeds; nor am I convinced that such was the occasion of your visit at this hour of the night to a lone woman's chamber.
”
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Frederick Marryat Frederick Marryat,  The Phantom Ship — Chapter XX (1839)

“ Again the censer was lighted—the charm essayed; again the room was filled with smoke as she threw in the various herbs which she had knowledge of, for all the papers thrown aside at her father's death had been carefully collected, and on many were directions found as to the use of those herbs. "The word! the word! I have the first—the second word! Help me, mother!" cried Amine, as she sat by the side of the bed, in the room, which was now so full of smoke that nothing could be distinguished. "It is of no use," thought she at last, letting her hands fall at her side; "I have forgotten the art. ”
Source: Wikisource

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