Chapter 34: Yes, Sir!
The Duke of Wellington took the manuscript from Sir Robert Peel’s hand and skimmed through it. He quickly flipped through the dozen pages, reaching the end.
The Duke, known for his iron will and strictness, couldn’t help but smile.
“Robert, I think you might have seen everything, but you missed his most important plea.”
He turned the manuscript towards Sir Peel and pointed at a line that took up almost the entire page.
“I’m afraid this is what he really wants.”
Sir Peel looked up.
The words were straightforward and concise:
“Even with such extensive revisions, I still find it difficult to hire officers who meet the standards at a weekly wage of twelve shillings. Therefore, I request a raise for all frontline officers of Scotland Yard.”
Seeing this, Sir Peel also couldn’t help but smile. The unpleasant feeling he had from the internal party struggles disappeared.
He asked the Duke, “Your Grace, what do you think?”
The Duke replied, “An interesting young man. Not many people dare to make such requests to their superiors.”
Sir Peel thought for a moment, “Do you think we shouldn’t grant his request?”
The Duke shook his head gently, “No, that’s not what I meant. Because when I was young, I was like him, even worse. He’s just making some requests, while I directly disobeyed my superiors. You know, I never liked being told what to do.”
Sir Peel asked with a smile, “I didn’t know you had such experiences. Could you remind me about it?”
The Duke waved his hand nonchalantly, as if it were a trivial matter.
“Nothing worth mentioning, but if you want to hear it, I’ll tell you. Do you remember the Battle of Vimeiro in the Iberian Peninsula in 1808?”
“Of course I do, you were the supreme commander of that battle.”
The Duke said, “Actually, I shouldn’t have been. I remember it was August 1st that year, I had just landed with over ten thousand men at Mondego Bay, 100 miles north of Lisbon, the capital of Portugal.
But soon after, I received intelligence that Jean-Andoche Junot, the general of Napoleon’s army known as ‘The Storm’, was leading the main force of the French army stationed in Portugal nearby.
At that time, the Army Staff ordered me to wait there, because General Dalrymple was leading a reinforcement of fifteen thousand men, ready to take over the supreme command from me and ordered me to cooperate with him to launch an attack on the French army.
But I ignored them, because the opportunity was fleeting. Instead of waiting, I launched the attack directly.”
Sir Peel heard this and couldn’t help but laugh, “Didn’t they put you on trial after the war for such actions?”
The Duke said, “Of course they did! But not for launching the war without authorization, but for investigating me for accepting the surrender of the French army, agreeing to the safe withdrawal of the French remnants, and providing ships for those who voluntarily returned to France.”
Sir Peel said with a wry smile, “I think I remember that incident, but I remember your charges were dismissed by the judge, right?”
“Of course! Why should it stand? I won!”
The Duke answered confidently, “Everyone can sign treaties, but how many can win a war? If the Army Department thinks the treaty I signed is bad, they can go fight the French themselves and then force Napoleon to sign a treaty that satisfies them!”
Sir Peel nodded thoughtfully, “So what’s your opinion on Arthur’s request?”
The Duke replied frankly, “Of course we can give the Scotland Yard police a raise, but they have to win the war first.”
Sir Peel laughed, “Since you, the Prime Minister and the First Lord of the Treasury, have said so, I understand how to reply to Arthur.”
…
Greenwich Police Station, Metropolitan Police of London.
Arthur leaned back on the chair at the round table in the conference room, looking up at the yellowed chandelier on the ceiling. The lamp oil hadn’t been changed for a long time, so even the light it emitted was dim, unable to cover Arthur’s face.
Outside the window, there was a downpour. Thumb-sized raindrops hammered the streets of London like bullets. Occasionally, a flash of lightning illuminated half of Arthur’s face near the window.
He seemed calm, expressionless, showing no joy or sorrow. The only thing moving in the entire scene was the pen he was spinning in his hand.
The lightning flashed and disappeared, followed by a thunderclap. The light in the room dimmed again, and his face disappeared into the shadows once more. In the dim environment, the only thing that could identify his identity was the shining Bath Star on his shoulder strap.
Behind him, two workers were installing picture frames. The frames contained neatly printed documents that had just been collected from the printing house. The content of the documents was as simple as their title.
These were Arthur Hastings’ Nine Principles, which had just been incorporated into the newly revised “Metropolitan Police of London Police Execution Manual.”
On the table in front of Arthur, there was also a letter that arrived almost simultaneously with the new manual. The letter came from the Home Office of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, located on Whitehall Street.
The content was not complicated either, only a few lines of words. Even someone who had only received the most basic education could understand the literal meaning.
“In exchange for a brilliant landing in Lisbon, breaking Napoleon’s ‘Continental Blockade System’ against Great Britain, Scotland Yard will receive a 25% salary increase.”
Knock, knock, knock!
There was a cautious knock on the door outside the conference room.
“Come in.”
The door to the conference room opened, and four chief inspectors wearing three V-shaped shoulder straps walked into the conference room in a line. They stood at attention, turned around, and saluted Arthur.
The chief inspectors looked at the Nine Principles hanging behind Arthur, their Adam’s apples bobbing slightly.
Of course, they had also received the latest version of the Police Manual and knew that the twenty-year-old superintendent in front of them was like the rising sun in the sky of Scotland Yard.
Arthur waved his hand, motioning for them to sit down.
But before their butts were settled, a bright flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the window outside, startling the four chief inspectors, who immediately stood up again.
Only when they saw Arthur’s surprised look did they sit down again awkwardly.
But then, a clap of thunder roared, and Arthur suddenly stood up from his chair.
Snap!
He rested his two strong arms on the table, just like he did when he stood at the prosecutor’s table in the Court.
“Although you are all familiar with me, I think it’s still necessary to introduce myself out of courtesy.
Arthur Hastings, Greenwich District Superintendent, East London District, Metropolitan Police of London. From today onwards, I will be responsible for all police work in this district.”
At this point, Arthur paused. He turned and asked, “By the way, I heard that there’s a chief inspector who started work at the same time as me, and I heard he took over from my old boss Willock. Who is it?”
The young officer sitting at the end of the table heard this and quickly stood up to report, “Bladen Jones, transferred from the Metropolitan Police of London Headquarters to Greenwich District. I salute you!”
Arthur leaned forward and extended his hand towards him in a friendly manner, “Mr. Jones, nice to meet you.”
The young officer quickly shook Arthur’s hand, which was covered in sweat, “Nice to meet you too.”
He couldn’t see Arthur’s face, only two slightly red eyes in the dimness.
Arthur’s gentle and kind voice rang out.
“I’ve heard about Willock’s absconding with public funds and weapons. It’s a misfortune for Scotland Yard that such a thing happened. You must take it as a warning.”
Jones’ body froze. He almost subconsciously stood at attention and saluted, “Yes, sir!”
(End of Chapter)