Chapter 17: The True Literary Giant
The pub table was cluttered with beer mugs, a few sausages, and a pile of banknotes and coins.
Arthur and Elder’s faces were hidden in the shadows, beyond the reach of the kerosene lamp’s dim glow. Each held two cards in their hands. Arthur glanced down at his – a pair of 5s.
Elder peeked at his cards and then pushed all his chips into the center of the table.
“I’m all in.”
Arthur chuckled. “Elder, you’re not going crazy, are you? If you lose this round, you won’t even have enough for the carriage ride home.”
Elder tapped the table impatiently. “I’ll just swim back across the Thames. I may be a Royal Navy cartographer, but I’m a man of the sea, and I can handle a bit of water. Don’t worry about me, Arthur. Just tell me, are you in or out?”
Arthur remained silent, instead looking past Elder.
Agareus, the Red Devil, stood there, laughing maniacally, his tongue lolling out.
“Arthur, this kid’s bluffing! He only has a pair of 3s! We call him, we gotta win his pants today!”
But instead of following Agareus’ advice, Arthur tossed his cards onto the table.
“Elder, you win. I fold. Your confidence overwhelmed me.”
Upon hearing Arthur’s fold, Elder clutched his head in agony and slumped over the table, his face ashen.
“Damn it, Arthur! You were following all along, why not this time? I finally got a good hand!”
Elder revealed his cards – a pair of Ks.
Agareus feigned surprise and covered his mouth. “The light here is so dim, how could I mistake a pair of Ks for a pair of 3s?”
Arthur simply smirked.
He knew the devil wouldn’t be so kind.
Agareus had been deliberately leaking Elder’s cards to gain Arthur’s trust, just to make him lose big in the final round.
It was the Red Devil’s old trick, and Arthur was well acquainted with it.
Looking at the dejected Elder, Arthur said, “Come on, Elder. You’re not cut out for cards, you wear your hand on your face. Take your money back, we were just playing for fun, not for real.”
“Oh! Arthur, you’re serious?”
Elder’s eyes lit up with excitement.
Seeing Elder’s slow movements, Arthur reached out to gather the money on the table.
But as soon as his hand moved, Elder snatched the banknotes like a whirlwind.
Of course, he left five pence for Arthur, his initial stake.
“Arthur, you’re always so generous. Consider the drinks and food tonight on me. Let’s have a good time, celebrate your escape from that damned Scotland Yard! Come on, to a new and bright future, cheers!”
Elder raised his beer mug and clinked it against Arthur’s with a hearty thud.
A series of gulps later, the pint of beer went down his wriggling throat.
Arthur, however, could only manage half a glass before he had to stop.
He’d already been downing beers with Elder, and his stomach was full to bursting.
He clutched his stomach and waved his hand. “Elder, do all you sailors have such a high tolerance for alcohol?”
Elder burst into laughter. “Of course! Alcohol is a good thing at sea. Firstly, hard liquor lasts, freshwater can be contaminated, but alcohol never goes bad.
Secondly, if a sailor gets injured, alcohol can be used for disinfection, it can also help us fight off diseases and keep warm. You wouldn’t believe how cold it gets on some voyages.
Most importantly, life at sea is incredibly monotonous. For months, even years, you face the same unchanging sea, the same scenery, the same routine, and the same smelly men.
Only alcohol can bring us brief joy, forget our worries, and numb ourselves temporarily.
Oh, Arthur, you have no idea, without alcohol, we seafarers would be lost!
I even heard some old salts who never drink water, they survive solely on alcohol.”
Arthur, his head spinning, asked, “Sounds like a miserable life. Haven’t you considered finding a good job on land? After all, unlike me, you have many more connections.”
“Of course I’ve thought about it. But before returning to land, I need to spend a few years at sea. Once I gain some experience, my uncle can get me a desk job at the Admiralty.
Arthur, you can do the same. Or you can sail for two years, wait for a good opportunity, and then return to land. Although the job market was tough when we graduated, haven’t you noticed things are slowly improving?
Everywhere seems to be planning to build railroads, and London docks are expanding. Once they’re finished, you can find a job at a railroad or shipping company.
With your Royal Navy experience on your resume, finding a job will be much easier. You might even become a university professor, after all, you’re comparable to Shelley and Byron, aren’t you?”
Arthur waved his hand, truly drunk now. “Come on, Elder, don’t flatter me. I’m just a Scotland Yard cop, and a fired one at that. Have you ever seen Byron or Shelley become cops? They were the ones who cursed the police.”
As soon as Arthur finished speaking, a gentle voice came from beside him.
“Officer Arthur?”
“Hm?”
Arthur turned his head, squinting, looking at a young man who seemed familiar.
“I think I know you. You… you were a court clerk, weren’t you? I’ve seen you a few times.”
The clerk was thrilled. “I can’t believe you remember me, that’s fantastic! To think I’d run into you while having lunch. My news manuscript is finally done, I was just going to ask for your feedback.”
Arthur grinned, his body about to slide off the chair. “I don’t understand literature, you should ask the gentleman across from me. He’s a classics major, from London University.”
Elder, also tipsy, chimed in.
“No, no, ask Officer Arthur. He’s comparable to Shelley and Byron, even though he’s from Scotland Yard.”
The court clerk couldn’t help but laugh. He knew both drunks were delirious.
But he still handed the rain-soaked manuscript to Arthur.
Since the drunkard Arthur was so eager to offer his opinion, he wasn’t shy about giving his critique.
He took the manuscript and, without hesitation, began to recite it loudly in the pub.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness.
It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity.
It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness.
It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.
We had everything before us, we had nothing before us.
We were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.”
As Arthur read these lines, the drunkenness swirling in his head suddenly jolted.
He felt like he’d seen these words before, but he couldn’t recall where.
The clerk blushed with embarrassment and quickly corrected him. “Mr. Arthur, that’s the final paragraph, you should read the beginning first.”
“Oh, right, my mistake.”
Arthur’s drunken haze began to dissipate. He looked up at the title of the article.
“The Strongest Voice from Scotland Yard – Remembering Arthur Hastings, the Finest Policeman in Great Britain.”
Author: Charles Dickens
(End of Chapter)
I am seriously confused where this novel is going. Too many events leading to nowhere?