Chapter 26 Performance on the River

The early morning mist shrouded London harbor.

Arthur, dressed in casual attire, stood on London Bridge with a ring of onion bread in hand, eating as he admired the waterfront scene of the Thames River.

Although the sun had only just risen, the Thames was already bustling with activity, countless ships jammed at the estuary waiting to enter the dock, with the shouting and swearing of sailors and dockworkers carrying on incessantly.

Some of them spoke English with different regional accents, while others communicated in languages Arthur couldn't understand.

Even though Arthur couldn't understand them, it didn't prevent him from deciphering what kind of heated exchange they were having from their flushed, rough faces and the spit flying from their mouths.

"Damn it! What the hell are those sons of whores doing up front? I've been waiting here since the stars were still in the sky, and now the sun is up, and I'm still stuck here. Weren't they supposed to be expanding the docks in London? Where the fuck did all that expansion go? Did those assholes in Parliament swallow all the money?"

"You think you're the only one in a hurry? If you've got the guts, steer your ship to capsize those in front. If not, shut your damn mouth, you idiot!"

"You think I wouldn't dare?"

"If you dare, why don't you just ram into them? Look at that medieval antiquity of a ship you've got, anyone would think you just fished it out from under the water. The bottom's covered in barnacles; you ain't scared that one day a big wave will smash your ship to pieces and drown you, you son of a whore."

"Enough, enough. You near-sea sailors just have no patience. My ship came back from South America, and I can wait months; can't you endure a single morning?"

"What crap are you talking about? You deep-sea sailors transport storable goods, I transport seafood. If I don't get to port soon, all my fish will be fucking rotten! Besides, what does my arguing have to do with you? Just because others are wrong doesn't mean you're right, idiot!"

"You gonna start swearing again?"

"Fuck your mother!"

Arthur leaned against the stone column of London Bridge as he finished his onion ring, then took out his pipe, put it between his lips, and briskly struck a match. He took a deep puff and sighed,

"The daily 'drama' on the Thames is still as splendid as ever. This is far more exciting than the shows at the old Vic Theatre."

"Arthur."

Agares was leaning on the bridge railing, resting his head on his fist, his tone conveying a thousand dissatisfactions.

"You enjoy watching the show, but could you go return the boat tickets first? It's been two days, and there's been no movement from Scotland Yard on the Wilcox matter. You finally ready to believe me now?"

Arthur hadn't taken Agares's words to heart; his attention was still fixated on the battle unfolding on the Thames.

Responding to Agares's question, he simply waved his hand, "There's still plenty of time; the ticket office isn't even open yet. If I'm not in a hurry, what's got you so worked up?"

"Hey! Arthur, you motherfu—"

Agares was about to curse at Arthur, sailor-style, but before he could let it out, someone approached Arthur and gave him a pat on the back.

"Yo, Arthur! How'd it go with the trouble your two colleagues were in last time, need my help?"

Arthur turned to look and saw it was Eld, an old classmate, talking to him.

"Not too bad. I pulled some strings at home, and managed to get them out eventually."

"Family connections?"

Eld raised an eyebrow with a smile, slinging an arm over Arthur's shoulder, "I never would've guessed! Arthur, you're quite the hidden prince! So, whose high-up family connection did you pull?"

Arthur took a drag of his cigarette, "Of course, it was Arthur Hastings's connection."

"Arthur Hastings?" Eld mused, "Do you have an elder in your family with the same name as you?"

"What are you thinking, Eld? The promotion is my own business."

"You're back at Scotland Yard?"

Arthur removed his pipe with some helplessness, "Eld, don't you ever read the newspapers? I didn't just go back, I also got promoted."

Eld disdainfully said, "Why would I read that thing? People who need to learn read newspapers, and I'm already a top student in classical literature.

Besides, it's useless for sailing. I've been busy improving my drawing skills recently, really don't have the time to care about the trivial happenings near London.

Moreover, what does your promotion have to do with whether I read newspapers or not? They don't report such things in the papers, do they?

Although I occasionally buy a newspaper, they all talk about trivial life stories, like the duke's mistress, the lawyer's maid, and the private tutors hired for children."

The more Arthur listened, the tighter his brow furrowed, "What sort of newspapers do you read? How come I can never find these kinds?"

Eld said proudly, "That's because you're not looking hard enough. If you search with intent, you're sure to find them."

He pulled Arthur closer, cupped his hands around Arthur's ears, and whispered,

"Listen to me, in the Greenwich District where you live, enter Christmas Road from the north entrance, walk about two hundred feet, then turn left, and there's an alley with two chimneys. Every Wednesday afternoon, from three to five, unless there's a downpour, there will be a man over fifty with a gray hat and a black coat..."

Arthur quickly covered his mouth upon hearing this.

He looked at him seriously, "Eld, you can't talk about this anymore. These kinds of newspapers, you can tell just by listening that they don't have a stamp duty. Not paying stamp duty is illegal, and moreover, this case is happening in my jurisdiction.

If I didn't know about such matters, it would be one thing; if I knew but couldn't find anything, it could be let go, but the information you're giving is too detailed. If you continue, I'll have no choice but to get involved."

Only then did Eld clutch his forehead in shock and cry out, "My God! I almost forgot you're a policeman."

Arthur looked at his scatterbrained friend and didn't quite know what to say, so he only asked,

"Eld, why did you come here today?"

"Our ship is nearby for maintenance, so I came specifically to have a look, and also to complete a task given by Colonel Fitzroy, to meet with the naturalist who replaced you.

Right, I haven't even asked you yet. If you've returned to Scotland Yard, why are you still dressed in civilian clothes? Has there been a change in your regulations?"

"No. Scotland Yard gave me a few days off, said I've been overworking lately, and told me to rest for a week."

Eld exclaimed, "Damn! How high up are you in the leadership to get leave from Scotland Yard?"

Arthur smiled, "Not that high up, just a Police Superintendent."

"I'm not very familiar with Scotland Yard. What would a Police Superintendent be roughly equivalent to in the Royal Navy?"

Arthur tapped his pipe, "What's the rank of your uncle again?"

Eld replied as if it were obvious, "He's a Rear Admiral in the Navy! How could you forget that?"

"Then it's about the equivalent of a Rear Admiral."

On hearing this, Eld laughed and gave Arthur a punch, "You son of a bitch! Come on, since you're on leave, let's go have a drink to celebrate!"

"Don't you have to meet with that naturalist?"

Eld waved his hand indifferently, "Sorry, let him hang for a bit, who told him to graduate from Cambridge. I still value the friendship of us University of London alumni more."