shadow of britain

Chapter 768 The Great Sage Returns
London is finally getting closer.

That morning, I was standing on the upper deck of the HMS Beagle, holding onto the railing, breathing in the long-lost scent of the Thames.

It was a flavor only Londoners could understand, a damp, fishy smell of mud, soot, beer lees, and old ropes. Five years away from home, homesickness was like an old cable tied to the soul; a gentle tug sent a shiver down one's spine.

The sun was high in the sky, the river shimmering with a dazzling golden light, and heat rose from the deck. We sailed upstream, past Gravesend and through the waterways of Limhouse, familiar landmarks appearing one by one. The dome of St. Paul's gleamed faintly in the mist, and the Tower of London stood solemnly in the dawn like an old soldier.

The boat swayed occasionally, the river breeze stirring up a cacophony of voices from the distant dock. A driver was loudly berating the delayed workers, a vendor was hawking cheap, fresh herring, and the rhythm of oars striking the water echoed across the river—a rhythm more captivating than any birdsong I had ever heard in the rainforest.

Small boats crisscrossed the Thames, the river seemingly never ceasing its flow. A Norwegian merchant ship, laden with timber, was unloading, rows of sailors, shirtless and sunburnt, their shouts echoing between the warehouses. Another East India Company cargo ship from India quietly anchored, its hatch ajar, and I could see several crates of tea being carefully unloaded from the deck…

The London landscape unfolded before me like a scroll painting, and I unconsciously lit a cigarette, murmuring, "London! My dream beauty, today I return to your burning embrace... Damn, which son of a bitch kicked me?"

Before he could finish reciting the poem, Elder felt a sudden tightness in his buttocks and slumped heavily onto the deck. Even his pipe flew out of his hand and landed with a splash in the Thames.

"Your pants are so loose you could raise chickens, and your hair is so greasy you could fry fish. Elder, look at yourself! What the hell are you pretending to be, Byron?"

An angry, panting voice came from behind Elder: "I've been carrying your drawing box and microscope all by myself, climbing up and down the ship's interior and exterior, and you're just standing here reciting poetry to the fish in the Thames? Aren't you afraid of upsetting the dolphins in the Atlantic?"

Elder looked back and, sure enough, the only people on the Beagle who dared to be so rude to him, besides Colonel FitzRoy, were that bald guy from Cambridge.

Darwin carried a suitcase in each hand, his own luggage slung over his shoulder, and binoculars hanging around his neck. He looked as if he had just crawled out of a South American swamp, drenched in sweat, his white shirt soaked through.

Elder lay on the deck, supporting himself with his hands, his lips twitching slightly.

His face, which had been filled with a mixture of joy and sorrow, instantly transformed into an expression of murder and arson.

He slammed his hand on the floor, sat bolt upright, and roared at Darwin, “Charles! Are you fucking crazy? My line just now was so perfectly rhymed, ‘Today I return to the world in your warm embrace.’ You’re just jealous of me, pure jealousy, jealous that my natural talent for lyricism is more abundant than your hair.”

Darwin, who has spent five years with Elder, has clearly seen his hair volume increase, and this attack on his hair volume is obviously no longer effective against him.

Darwin merely scoffed: "Jealous of you? You're dressed like you just rolled out of a mule's belly, and you're here reciting poetry. Do you think you're Byron? You're nothing but his unwashed sock."

"Go to hell!" Elder snapped, rolling up his sleeves and leaning forward. "When I helped you organize the specimens, I didn't even ask you for a thank you. Now that it's your turn to help me carry a box, why are you complaining so much?"

Darwin was about to retort when he suddenly heard a voice behind him: "Both of you shut up!"

The angry shout was like a cannonball exploding on the deck, startling two pigeons on the deck into taking flight.

Colonel FitzRoy, impeccably dressed in his military uniform, kicked aside the thick ropes tangled on the deck and stepped between the two men: "Eld! Look at the mess you're in! There will definitely be Admiralty men at the dock to greet you later, and maybe even a few reporters. Don't tell me you're planning to let the Admiralty men see you with your crotch ripped open and your beard sticking up! I'm warning you, I don't want to see headlines like 'The Beagle, after five years on a voyage, finally returns with a madman and a clump of algae' in tomorrow's Times."

Elder was stunned by the scolding, his mouth still half open as if he wanted to say something, but the colonel's hawk-like eyes glared at him so that he swallowed his words.

"Get down there and change your clothes right now! Your shirt looks like it's been wiped with a dead fish, and your trouser legs could wring out a bucket of black water. I don't want your uncle to think that I've been abusing you on the ship for the past five years."

When Elder heard Colonel FitzRoy mention his uncle, he immediately wilted like a frostbitten eggplant.

At times like this, he really needed to make a good impression on his uncle, since he would still need his uncle's help to smooth things over with the Admiralty after returning to London.

He reluctantly grabbed a tattered box from Darwin's hand and limped toward the cabin.

Back in the living area of ​​the ship's cabin, Elder soon took off his shirt, filled a washbasin with water, looked in a small mirror, held a razor in one hand, and stroked the sun-dried, yellowish beard on his chin with the other.

He was frowning and groaning, and his beard was shaved haphazardly, making him look like a newly trained barber apprentice.

That's not all. He would also mutter curses from time to time: "I've circled the earth, I should at least have done something, right? Just because of this damn beard, I have to be treated like a monkey... Bah!"

Just then, the hatch creaked open, and Darwin, carrying two boxes, hunched over and crawled in.

He threw the box to the ground with a clatter, and then began to unbutton his shirt and change his clothes.

"You're down here again?" Elder snorted, tossing his razor aside, completely ignoring the half-beard still hanging on his face. "I thought it would take you at least half an hour to move those specimens."

Darwin brushed the dust off his shoulders: "I'll come down and get the navigation charts."

What do you need the picture book for?

"The ship is about to dock. Colonel FitzRoy estimated that the Navy Department would likely board the ship for inspection immediately, so he asked me to take my luggage down first. As for those important documents to be submitted to the Navy Department, they need to be sent up as soon as possible."

"Huh?" Upon hearing that they were about to dock, Elder's anger vanished instantly. He grinned, his tone tinged with excitement: "Hey, Charles, once we're ashore, do you have any... follow-up arrangements?"

Darwin, who was buttoning his shirt, paused upon hearing this, his face turning slightly red: "I...I want to go home first."

Elder blinked, a "I get it" look on his face.

He tilted his head and looked at Darwin: "Oh ho, still blushing? I said 'what are your plans for tonight,' not whether you want to get home as soon as possible to see your little fiancée."

Darwin lowered his head and hurriedly buttoned up the last button, his ears turning as red as if they had been splashed with hot water.

He said in a low voice, "I really want to go back and see her."

"Tsk..." Elder rolled his eyes at him, pulling his shirt on as he muttered, "People like you, who can't move when they see a female human, are worse than groundhogs."

"Could you please stop using the word 'female,' Mr. Male Human?"

"Then what do you want me to say? Sweetheart? Darling? Please, she's your fiancée, not mine."

Darwin was so angry he almost rolled up his sleeves and punched him: "Hey, Elder, you son of a bitch..."

Seeing this, Elder quickly raised his hands in surrender: "Charles, don't be angry, I was just joking."

Darwin didn't really intend to beat him up. He rolled his eyes and said, "So what about you? What are you planning to do tonight?"

Upon hearing this, Elder snapped his shirt buttons shut and grinned, "I... plan to go to the Navy Headquarters and pay off all the salary I've saved over the past five years." "And then?"

“And then…” Elder spread his hands, lost in a melancholy reminiscence: “I need to go to Leicester Square… to clear my head, to clear my mind.”

As Elder spoke, his eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned up, as if those dreams of theaters, cigars, champagne, ballet tutus, and long, white legs were replaying in his mind.

Unfortunately, Darwin didn't react at all, not even uttering a sound. He just kept his head down and continued to straighten the crumpled collar.

"Hmm?" Elder frowned. "Charles, this reaction is wrong! You didn't even flinch. What do you mean? Have you changed your mind?"

Darwin raised an eyelid slightly, his tone as indifferent as a Londoner discussing the weather: "Nothing much. I just knew it."

"You guessed it all along?" Elder narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "How did you guess? Did you perhaps peek into my diary?"

“Do you need to peek into your diary? I can tell with my own eyes that you probably wrote ten pages of things like ‘Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve touched a woman.’” Darwin said, smoothing out his cuffs as he casually added, “Besides… the sailors have already started trading.”

"Opening for sale? What kind of sale?"

"What will be the first thing you do after you disembark?"

Elder was stunned, his face clearly showing his disbelief.

"Holy crap, they're actually betting on this?"

"It's quite an exciting bet," Darwin nodded. "One option is Leicester Square, and the other is something else."

What about the odds?

Darwin flicked his sleeve: "The others are one to one hundred."

Elder's voice choked: "So high? What about Leicester Square?"

"One to one" compensation.

"Huh?" Elder nearly dropped his razor. "One to one? Are you fucking kidding me? Nobody's forcing me to do something else?"

Darwin was quite exasperated by his friend's complete lack of self-awareness: "I'm just kidding. They've even bet on which alley you came from and which girl you know well. I heard that old Tom bet on you being able to tell a joke to amuse a girl, and then forgetting to take your pants off because you're drunk."

"Fuck old Tom!" Elder paced back and forth in front of the mirror in anger. "I'm just... a normal British youth who enjoys city life and seeks happiness, and you shameless gamblers have described me like a chipmunk in the sewers."

"Eld, there are no chipmunks in the sewers, so don't try to make yourself look good."

Elder rolled his eyes dramatically. "Let me tell you, Charles, you're as petty as a test tube. To you, even if my first stop back in London is Westminster Abbey to confess, you'd still say I'm having an affair with the nuns there."

Darwin shrugged: "So what are you planning to do now? Are you going to clear your name in front of Old Tom and the others?"

"Clarify my ass!" Elder's eyes widened. "I'm going, I'm going, I'm going happily, and I'll see who can stop me. Not only am I going, but I'm going to go dressed impeccably, so that old Tom and those bastards in the Navy can see clearly. I'm back, the great Elder Carter is back, with five years' worth of sailing savings and gentlemanly manners!"

“Fine.” Darwin shook his head and said, “Then don’t blame me for not warning you.”

Elder tossed the razor to Darwin and said, “Come on, Charles, serve me and shave off the rest of my beard. Let the girls of Leicester see that, after five years, Mr. Elder Carter’s chin is still as smooth as it was five years ago.”

Darwin took the razor and impatiently gestured for Elder to sit down: "Fine, this is the last time anyway. Time is short, so don't move around too much, let's get this over with quickly."

"Damn it! Charles, you've slashed my chin! You damn Cambridge bald man."

“Shut up! Elder, if you’re so capable, do it yourself, you hopeless Leicester Square explorer.”

After a while, the two of them finally managed to shave Elder's "mane" clean.

Just as Elder was about to pick up the mirror for a good look, he heard Colonel FitzRoy's unwavering shout from the deck: "All personnel, assemble on deck immediately! Prepare to dock! Now!"

Perhaps because they were about to arrive in London, Colonel FitzRoy's commands were unusually polite today, with great care paid to using courteous language. Normally, he would add a follow-up: "Either get moving, or I'll nail your butts to the deck as weather vanes!"

Elder shoved open the hatch and, with the same speed he used to have when he was being chased by a cougar, dragged the binoculars around Darwin's neck and rushed onto the deck.

As he walked, he muttered to himself, "Is there a welcoming party at the dock? Has the Navy sent a military band? Are there any girls holding flower garlands waiting for me?"

The two rushed onto the deck and saw that the fog on the Thames had completely dissipated, and the brick piers on the bank gleamed with a light brown heat in the sunlight. Everywhere was bustling with people, creating a lively and extraordinary scene.

Elder's eyes lit up, his nostrils practically flaring up: "Damn, Arthur really wasn't lying to me! Charles, we're definitely famous in London now. These are probably all readers of 'The Englishman,' right? The Admiralty couldn't possibly pull off such a big stunt! These must all be followers of Elder Carter and believers in Charles Darwin."

Darwin's neck was red from being strangled by the telescope. He was originally about to berate Elder, but after hearing what he said, he also looked up at the dock.

He should have looked away, because what he saw really startled him.

The section of the river between Greenwich and the Tower of London was now almost completely packed with people who had come to greet them.

Colorful flags fluttered on the dock, where rows of Imperial Guard cavalry and infantry stood in formation, their red and blue uniforms gleaming in the sunlight.

Two tall, snow-white horses pulled the ceremonial carriage along the riverbank, its golden-topped carriage standing out conspicuously on the already cleared streets.

Temporary stands were set up on the shore, and many gentlemen wearing feathered hats were standing on the steps, tiptoeing to look out.

Even Thames Police barges appeared on the river, blocking the way for the HMS Beagle as if to clear a path for them.

Elder beamed with pride, his grin practically reaching his ears: "Charles, did you see that? Did you see that? What did I tell you? A welcoming procession! Banners! Wreaths! Drummers! And those girls, all in white dresses, waving at me from afar! I told you, gold like me was bound to shine sooner or later."

(End of this chapter)