SGB Chapter 2

Chapter 2: New Opportunities?

London in the 19th century still teetered on the edge of light and darkness.

The sun had risen in the east, but its rays barely pierced the thick fog that blanketed the Thames. The river was swallowed by the white mist, only the faint red glow of lamps from boats moored at the docks breaking through the gloom.

Chimneys lined the city skyline, and though it was still early, they spewed forth acrid, noxious smoke. They reveled in their toxic air, obscuring the already scant sunlight and casting a pall over the dreary atmosphere.

The narrow streets were teeming with the remnants of the night: drunken revelers, homeless farmers, and jobless workers, all inhaling the polluted air. Their sickly yellow skin betrayed their poor health.

In the shadows of the alleyways, pickpockets with shifty eyes began eyeing their next targets.

Prostitutes, clad in their finest rags, hawked their wares outside their garbage-strewn lodging houses. The recent economic downturn forced them to extend their working hours, hoping to earn enough for some bread and sugar.

Arthur, dressed in his pristine uniform, stood out like a sore thumb among the squalor. The glares and insults he received confirmed the perception of the newly established Metropolitan Police in the eyes of the poor.

In the chaotic, noisy, and dirty East End of London, people had another name for someone like Arthur.

They called him the “peeler,” believing that the London police were like apple peelers, slowly stripping away their already meager “skin,” disrupting their businesses, interfering with their lives, and squeezing their living space.

Perhaps Arthur would have reacted to their insults when he first joined the force.

But after six months, he was numb.

In the distance, two raggedly dressed drunks brawled.

As a seasoned officer, Arthur was well-versed in handling such situations.

If you wanted to reason with drunks, you’d better give them a whack first to sober them up. It sounded simple, but it was a valuable lesson learned by Arthur and his colleagues after repeated attacks by intoxicated individuals.

Without hesitation, Arthur pulled out his truncheon and whacked them both on the head.

“If you two bastards don’t want to end up in jail, stop fighting this instant!” he roared.

The two drunks, enraged by the blows, rolled up their sleeves, ready to teach Arthur a lesson. But before they could turn, Arthur’s police knife was already pressed against their throats.

“I said, if you don’t want trouble, get out of here!”

The icy touch of the police knife sobered the drunks instantly.

One drunk wiped the blood from his nose and apologized profusely. “It’s just a little friendly banter, Officer. We’re from Salford in Manchester. We’re just showing some friendly affection. There’s no need to make a fuss about it.”

The other drunk, who had lost half a tooth, echoed his sentiments. “N-no, Officer, we didn’t mean to cause trouble. We’re leaving now.”

With that, the two men picked up their discarded felt hats, helped each other to their feet, and staggered away.

Just as Arthur finished with the drunks, he saw a number of street vendors pushing fish-and-chips carts and carrying woven bags, selling their wares.

They, too, had spotted Arthur in his uniform, but their reactions varied.

A small number chose to leave the area out of prudence. But the vast majority refused to relinquish their lucrative spot on this busy street.

It was the prime time for selling breakfast, just as the sun rose. Leaving now meant losing half their earnings for the day, a burden they couldn’t bear.

So, even in the face of a well-equipped and recently victorious Officer Arthur, they wouldn’t budge an inch.

Agareus’s ghostly form hovered around Arthur, laughing cruelly. “Arthur, look at their eyes, vicious, venomous, they’d drown you in the icy, foul-smelling Thames if they could. Perhaps they see you as more of a devil than me.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ve been living more like a devil than you these past six months. The street vendors see me as a dog for the authorities, the authorities suspect I have Jacobite leanings, Jacobite supporters think I’m sent to spy on them, the real spies think I’ll betray them, the magistrates think I’m in cahoots with the criminals, and the criminals think I want to hang them all. This world, it’s absurd.”

(TL Note: The Jacobites were the supporters of King James VII of Scotland and II of England.)

Arthur removed his top hat and looked at the Metropolitan Police badge, muttering to himself. “Agareus, I’ve been thinking, maybe it’s time for a change.”

Agareus’s eyes lit up, even using his rarely used sentimental tone to comfort him. “Oh, my dear Arthur, you’ve finally come to your senses. If you’d cooperated with me earlier, you might be Prime Minister by now. Anyone who opposes you, you just kill them, send them all into my belly, just like you did to Professor Dumpling. Come on, let’s plan our next target. How about that police superintendent who’s always giving you a hard time?”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but that’s not what I meant by a change.”

“Not what you meant?” Agareus was stunned. “Then what do you mean?”

Arthur didn’t answer his question, but instead waved his hat and called out to a man in a trench coat who was haggling with a vendor. “Elder, over here!”

Elder, hearing Arthur’s call, grumbled at the vendor and hurried over to Arthur’s side.

“Hey, Arthur. The weather’s awful, and my mood is just as bad, but seeing you makes me feel better.”

Arthur asked, “What were you arguing with the vendor about?”

Elder, upon hearing this, couldn’t help but curse. “Arthur, you wouldn’t believe how rude that bastard is! He sold me four oysters, three of which were rotten, and he wanted four pence for them. It’s robbery! If you hadn’t called me, I’d have had a fight with him!”

Arthur replied calmly, “Elder, if you really fight him, it’ll make my job difficult. I just finished dealing with two brawling drunks.”

“Who cares? I’ll fight, and you can just step aside when it happens.”

Elder pulled out his pipe from his pocket, put it in his mouth, then took his tobacco tin from his chest and filled it. Finally, he lit it with a match.

He took a long drag and blew out a smoke ring, feeling much better.

Elder asked, “Forget about it. I asked you about it the other day, how are you thinking about it? Instead of staying in this cesspool, why not come sailing with me? We’re short a naturalist like you, someone knowledgeable and talented. Life on the ship is easy and pleasant, your salary will double, and you might even meet some exotic ladies. What’s not to love?”

He pulled out another pipe from his pocket, filled it with tobacco, and without asking Arthur if he wanted it, stuffed it into his mouth, even lighting it for him.

Elder’s hands were busy, and his mouth wasn’t idle either. He kept persuading Arthur.

“Arthur, you have to think about this. There’s no future for you in the Metropolitan Police. I heard they’re hiring mostly unemployed textile workers or farmers from the northeast, even Irishmen can get in.

We graduates from London University, while not recognized, it’s all because of those bastards from Oxford and Cambridge, along with the bishops, colluding behind our backs. If we talk about knowledge, we’re far more superior.

But brilliant people like us, just because our school allows non-Anglicans to attend, we can’t get a degree. Can things get any more messed up?”

(TL Note: Non-Anglicans refers to individuals who are not part of the Anglican Church, which is the official church in England.)

Arthur took a puff of his pipe and said, “Oh, there are.”

“Like what?”

“Like, I know a guy from a wealthy, prestigious family. He’s Anglican himself, and even has an uncle who’s a Royal Navy admiral, but he insists on going to London University. He says he wants to make a name for himself, but in the end, he still has to rely on his uncle’s connections to get a job on a ship.”

Elder burst into laughter, punching Arthur on the shoulder. “Arthur, you’re so harsh! I didn’t get it before, but I do now. We’re all swimming in a cesspool, if you think you can’t see the shit, it’s not because the environment is better, it’s because you’re already submerged in it.”

Arthur fell silent.

Elder asked, “Arthur, why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Elder, I can hardly believe it.”

“What’s wrong?”

Arthur sighed. “You actually graduated from Classics.”

Elder laughed heartily. “That’s because you don’t understand Classics.

Nero said: No man or woman is chaste in body, only most people cleverly conceal their ugliness.

He’s a bastard, but he’s not wrong about that.

Because for a writer, no man or woman writer is clean-mouthed, and most of them don’t even bother to hide it. And I, I eagerly hope to become one of them.

Forget about it, have you made your decision? Are you coming with us on the ship?”

Arthur nodded. “I owe you one this time. I’m pretty much tired of my current job. A change of pace would be good for me and for the world.”

Agareus, who had been aimlessly wandering, was furious upon hearing this. He conjured a pitchfork from somewhere and pressed it against Arthur’s back, roaring.

“Arthur! But that’s no good for me! I’m a devil! A devil! Do you want me to spend the next few years watching whales mate with you on the high seas?!”

Elder, apparently unable to hear Agareus’s complaints, exclaimed excitedly, “So you’ve agreed?”

Arthur nodded. “I can’t think of any reason to refuse.”

“Great! That’s settled then.”

Elder whistled happily. “You’ll definitely do better than that Cambridge graduate!”

“Cambridge graduate?” Arthur asked. “You have other candidates?”

“Not really candidates, he was supposed to be the ship’s chaplain. But if we can’t find a suitable naturalist, the captain said he can fill in. After all, he studied medicine at Edinburgh University for a few years before going to Cambridge to study theology.”

Arthur asked again, “When are you planning to set sail?”

Elder replied, “It depends on the monsoon winds. If the Admiralty is in a hurry, we’ll leave in September. If they’re not in a hurry, we’ll wait until winter.

But don’t worry about your salary from April to the time of departure. As long as you’re confirmed, even if you’re on land, you’ll get half your usual salary. That’s still more than what you’re getting at the Metropolitan Police.

Arthur, you’re my best friend, I wouldn’t screw you over even if I were screwing my uncle!”

(End of Chapter)

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