The Rescue: A Romance of the Shallows, Volume 17

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Doubleday, Page, 1920 - Lingard, Tom (Fictitious character) - 402 pages
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During a civil war between native tribes, an English yacht runs aground in the Malay straits. Captain Tim Wingard offers help, then sees a woman on board. She captivates him, and this captivation wrecks all his hopes and leads to the failure of the cause to which he is bound.
 

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LibraryThing Review

User Review  - rocketjk - LibraryThing

The protagonist of The Rescue is Tom Lingard, who also appears in Conrad's first two novels, Almayer's Folly and An Outcast of the Islands, although the events here predate those two stories in ... Read full review

The rescue: a romance of the shallows

User Review  - Not Available - Book Verdict

The great Conrad's 1920 novel was one of the last to be published before his death four years later. The plot follows the mislaid plans of protagonist Captain Tom Lingard, who, on his way to help a ... Read full review

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Page 282 - And it was without the slightest change of expression that she said: "I think that you bore yourself appropriately to the state of life to which it has pleased God to call you.
Page 7 - On the unruffled surface of the straits the brig floated tranquil and upright as if bolted solidly, keel to keel, with its own image reflected in the unframed and immense mirror of the sea. To the south and east the double islands watched silently the double ship that seemed fixed amongst them forever, a hopeless captive of the calm, a helpless prisoner of the shallow sea.
Page 358 - No, there are not many of them. And yet they are all. They decorate our life for us. They are the gracious figures on the drab wall which lies on this side of our common grave. They lead a sort of ritual dance, that most of us have agreed to take seriously, It is a very binding agreement with which sincerity and good faith and honour have nothing to do. Very binding. Woe to him or her who breaks it. Directly they leave the pageant they get lost.
Page 78 - That adventurer had only a confused notion of being on the threshold of a big adventure. There was something to be done, and he felt he would have to do it. It was expected of him. The seas expected it; the land expected it.
Page 7 - ... continuous surface to wanderings facile and endless. There was no wind, and a small brig that had lain all the afternoon a few miles to the northward and westward of Carimata had hardly altered its position half a mile during all these hours. The calm was absolute, a dead, flat calm, the stillness of a dead sea and of a dead atmosphere. As far as the eye could reach there was nothing but an impressive immobility. Nothing moved on earth, on the waters, and above them in the unbroken lustre of...
Page 11 - To him she was always precious — like old love; always desirable — like a strange woman; always tender — like a mother; always faithful • — like the favourite daughter of a man's heart.
Page 287 - Conflict of some sort was the very essence of his life. But this was something he had never known before. This was a conflict within himself. He had to face unsuspected powers, foes that he could not go out to meet at the gate. They were within, as though he had been betrayed by somebody, by some secret enemy. He was ready to look round for that subtle traitor. A sort of blankness fell on his mind and he suddenly thought : "Why? It's myself.
Page 5 - THE shallow sea that foams and murmurs on the shores of the thousand islands, big and little, which make up the Malay Archipelago has been for centuries the scene of adventurous undertakings. The vices and the virtues of four nations have been displayed in the conquest of that region that even to this day has not been robbed of all the mystery and romance of its past—- and the race of men who had fought against the Portuguese, the Spaniards, the Dutch and the English, has not been changed by the...
Page 370 - I will go on deck," said the Captain of the famous brig Lightning, while his eyes roamed all over the cabin. Carter stood aside at once, but it was some little time before Lingard made a move. The sun had sunk already, leaving that evening no trace of its glory on a sky clear as crystal and on the waters without a ripple. All colour seemed to have gone out of the world. The oncoming shadow rose as subtle as a perfume from the black coast lying athwart the eastern semicircle; and such was the silence...

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