SGB Chapter 26

Chapter 26: A Performance on the River

The London docks were shrouded in a thick fog on this early morning.

Arthur, dressed in civilian clothes, stood on London Bridge, munching on an onion ring bread. He watched the bustling scene on the Thames, enjoying the waterside scenery.

Although the sun had only just risen, the Thames was already teeming with activity. Countless ships were jammed at the mouth of the river, waiting to enter the docks. The shouts and curses of sailors and dockworkers echoed through the air.

Some spoke English with different regional accents, while others used languages Arthur couldn’t understand.

Even though he couldn’t decipher the words, Arthur could still glean the nature of their heated exchanges from the flushed, rough faces and flying spittle.

“Damn it! What the hell are those bastards doing up ahead? I’ve been waiting here since the stars were out, and now the sun’s up and I’m still stuck. Didn’t they say they were expanding the London docks? Where the hell is the expansion? Did those bloody dogs in Parliament swallow all the money?”

“You think you’re the only one in a hurry? If you’ve got the guts, ram your ship into those in front of you. If you haven’t, shut your stinking mouth, you idiot!”

“You think I wouldn’t?”

“You would, then why don’t you ram them? Look at your medieval junk of a ship. Someone might think you just dredged it up from the bottom. It’s covered in barnacles. You’re not worried about a big wave smashing your ship to pieces and drowning you, you bastard?”

“Alright, alright, you near-shore sailors are just impatient. My ship came all the way back from South America, I waited for months. You can’t even stand a morning?”

“What the hell are you talking about? You guys haul stuff that can be stored for months, I haul seafood. If I don’t get into the dock and unload, my fish will rot! And besides, it’s none of your business, you idiot! Just because someone else is wrong doesn’t make you right!”

“You calling me an idiot?”

“Screw you!”

Arthur finished his onion ring, leaned against the stone pier of London Bridge, and pulled out his pipe. He lit it with a match, took a deep drag, and sighed.

“The daily ‘stage play’ on the Thames is as captivating as ever. It’s a lot more exciting than the plays at the Old Vic.”

“Arthur.”

Agatha leaned against the bridgehead, supporting her head with her fist. Her voice held a thousand shades of dissatisfaction.

“You can watch your play, but could you please go get your tickets refunded? It’s been two days, and Scotland Yard hasn’t had a single lead on the Willocks case. You believe me now?”

Arthur completely ignored Agatha’s question, his attention still fixed on the battle on the Thames.

He simply waved his hand dismissively, “It’s early, the ticket office isn’t even open yet. I’m not in a hurry, why are you?”

“Hey! Arthur, you bloody…”

Agatha was about to unleash a torrent of sailor-like curses, but before she could speak, a man walked towards Arthur and patted him on the back.

“Hey, Arthur! How did things turn out for your two colleagues? Need any help?”

Arthur turned and saw his old classmate, Eldred.

“Not bad. I pulled some strings, you know, family connections, and got them out.”

“Family connections?”

Eldred raised an eyebrow, grinning as he slung an arm around Arthur’s shoulder. “Didn’t know you were a hidden gentleman, Arthur! Which bigwig did you pull in?”

Arthur took a drag from his pipe. “Of course, it’s Arthur Hastings’ connection.”

“Arthur Hastings?” Eldred pondered. “Do you have an elder relative with the same name?”

“What are you talking about, Eldred? It’s my own connection.”

“You went back to Scotland Yard?”

Arthur sighed, a touch of frustration in his voice. “Eldred, don’t you read newspapers? Not only did I go back, I got promoted.”

Eldred scoffed. “Why would I read that stuff? People who need to learn to read newspapers, and I’m a Classical Literature graduate. Besides, it’s not useful for sailing. I’ve been busy improving my cartography skills lately, no time for the petty affairs of London. And besides, what does your promotion have to do with me reading newspapers? They don’t report that kind of stuff. I do buy a paper occasionally, but it’s all about life’s little stories, like the Duke’s mistress, the lawyer’s maid, the tutor they hired for their kids.”

Arthur’s frown deepened with each word. “What kind of newspapers do you read? I can’t find anything like that.”

Eldred puffed up with pride. “You just haven’t looked hard enough. If you look hard enough, you’ll find it.”

He pulled Arthur close, shielding his ear with his hand, and lowered his voice.

“Listen, in your Greenwich area, enter Christmas Road from the north entrance, walk about two hundred feet, then turn left. There’s an alley with two chimneys, and every Wednesday afternoon, from three to five, as long as it’s not raining, a fifty-year-old man with a grey hat and a black coat…”

Arthur quickly covered Eldred’s mouth.

He looked at his friend, his face serious. “Eldred, you can’t say anymore. That kind of newspaper, just by the sound of it, is clearly unstamped. It’s illegal to not pay the stamp tax, and this case is in my jurisdiction. I don’t know about it, I can ignore it, but you’re giving me too much information. If you keep talking, I’ll have to do something about it.”

Eldred gasped, covering his forehead. “My God! I almost forgot you were a policeman.”

Arthur looked at his scatterbrained friend, not knowing what to say. He finally asked, “Eldred, why are you here today?”

“Our ship is undergoing repairs nearby, so I came to check in and complete a task for Captain Fitzroy. He wants me to meet the naturalist who replaced you. By the way, I haven’t asked you yet. You went back to Scotland Yard, why are you still in civilian clothes? Did they change the rules?”

“No. Scotland Yard gave me a few days off. They said I was overworked and needed a week to rest.”

Eldred exclaimed, “Damn! What kind of big shot are you? Scotland Yard gives you time off?”

Arthur smiled. “Not that big, just a Superintendent.”

“I don’t know much about your Scotland Yard, what rank would a Superintendent be equivalent to in the Royal Navy?”

Arthur tapped his pipe. “What rank was your uncle again?”

Eldred answered without hesitation. “Rear Admiral! You forgot about that?”

“That would be equivalent to a Rear Admiral.”

Eldred laughed, giving Arthur a punch on the arm. “You bloody… Come on, you’re off, let’s go have a drink to celebrate!”

“Don’t you have to meet the naturalist?”

Eldred waved it off. “Sorry, he can wait a bit. He’s a Cambridge graduate, after all. I value our London University friendships more.”

(End of Chapter)

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