shadow of britain

Chapter 772 Elder Carter, a "High-Ranking Official" in the Navy
Just as Elder and Dumas were chatting and joking around, subtly and overtly competing, Arthur suddenly spoke up.

“So, Elder,” Arthur tapped his glass lightly on the wooden table, “what are your plans now? Do you intend to continue traveling the world? Or are you finally ready to put on a clean shirt and sit behind the glass windows of the Admiralty to count down the fleet’s schedule?”

As soon as this topic came up, a mysterious smile immediately appeared on Elder's face.

He cleared his throat, leaned forward, and lowered his voice, saying, "Arthur, what do you think? This round-the-world trip of mine wasn't for nothing. To be honest, my aunt told me that my uncle has already started pulling strings for me."

Elder had expected this news to startle Arthur, but to his surprise, his old friend was not only unfazed, but also savoring the aftertaste of his Guinness beer, and slowly asked, "Naval Transport Bureau? Naval Survey Bureau? Or the Naval Supply Bureau under your uncle?"

Upon hearing this, Elder's smug expression froze for half a second: "Damn it! Arthur, how did you know? Didn't that old guy say he was very careful? How come your mouth is even looser than mine?"

"Come on," Dumas said with a sneer. "Those little tricks of the trade are so easy for Benjamin to find out."

“Benjamin? You mean Mr. Disraeli?” Elder frowned and pondered for a moment. “What? Could it be that he finally gave up his dream of becoming a writer and honestly picked up his old profession as a lawyer, becoming a legal counsel for the Navy?”

“No, Benjamin wasn’t interested in the Royal Navy, and he loathed being a lawyer,” Dickens explained with a smile. “So he didn’t go to the Admiralty, but to the Foreign Office.”

“Ministry of Foreign Affairs?” Upon hearing this, Elder immediately thought of Disraeli’s image from his memory: “You mean the Ministry of Foreign Affairs would hire a guy who likes to wear red coats and green shorts? Don’t be ridiculous, you guys have been making fun of me ever since I got off the ship. Not a single word you’ve said is reliable. Do you still think I’m the Elder I used to be? Five years, a round-the-world voyage, I’ve seen every kind of bitch, I’ve experienced every kind of scam, you guys can’t fool me.”

Not only Elder, but even Darwin didn't quite believe them. He still thought the stocks Arthur handed them might be a prank among friends. Although he always believed that everything was in the process of evolution, these friends were evolving far too fast.

But before he could even speak, Arthur sealed the deal.

"To be precise, Benjamin didn't just get a job at the Foreign Office; he was appointed by His Majesty the King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland as Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in Robert Peel's cabinet. Considering his decent relationship with the current First Lord of the Admiralty, Lord de Grey, it shouldn't be too difficult to get some information about you from him. Besides, even if we can't get information from Benjamin, we still have the channels of Sir Alexander Baring, Chairman of the Trade Commission and Master of the Royal Mint."

Elder was stunned when he heard the news. The last time he received a letter from Arthur and others was five months ago. Although he learned from the letter that Sir Peel was about to take office and form a cabinet, he never expected that Disraeli would be able to take this opportunity to climb to such a high position.

It's important to know that when they left England, Disraeli was just a young Jewish man who was constantly delusional. He fantasized about being elected as a Member of Parliament, but the number of people who voted for him could be counted on one hand.

Later, although Elder heard that Disraeli had successfully won a Tory constituency after the parliamentary reforms of 1832, he thought that Disraeli's election was at best a vanity project for the Tories to win the support of minorities.

Who would have thought...

Do the Tories really intend to give this Jewish kid a big job?
However, if that's really the case...

Elder's eyes darted around, and a sinister plan immediately came to mind: "If... I mean if... you're really not joking, Arthur, do you think I have a chance of going to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs?"

As soon as Elder finished speaking, he began to ponder to himself: "Oh dear, if that's the case, I might have to go to his house tomorrow. Although my relationship with Benjamin was still acceptable before, five years have passed, and I wonder if he has forgotten that he has such a friend in the Royal Navy."

Upon hearing Elder's calculations, Dumas immediately poured cold water on his hopes: "If you had come back a few months earlier, you might have had a chance. Benjamin had just taken office then, and he was riding high. But now, since taking office, the Peel cabinet hasn't even managed to pass a single bill in the House of Commons. Although it's a bit unfair to Benjamin to say this, I think his good days at the Foreign Office are coming to an end."

Dickens chimed in, "Not to mention that the current Foreign Secretary is the Duke of Wellington. I don't think he would go out of his way to make things difficult for a Royal Navy cartographer at a time like this."

The passion that had just been ignited in Elder's heart was completely dampened by their barrage of words.

He rolled his eyes and said, "Forget it, I knew there was no hope anyway. But even if I can't get into the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, it's better to sit in an office at the Navy Department than to drift at sea. In the end, I can barely accept either the Naval Transport Department or the Naval Survey Bureau."

Arthur joked, "Barely accept? Judging from your tone, only becoming the First Lord of the Admiralty can satisfy your appetite. Elder, you and Charles really did your job this time. I bet your uncle can at least get you a lucrative position in the Admiralty with a bit of effort this time, right?"

Elder was still mindful of his uncle's instruction to keep it a secret, but seeing that everyone seemed to know what was going on, he reluctantly spoke up.

"To be honest, my uncle didn't seem to be planning to get involved in this. But when my aunt was staying in Belfast last summer, she happened to run into him leading a team to inspect the naval logistics division there. You know, when relatives get together, they have to exchange a few pleasantries. My aunt first scolded him for not considering the few men in the Carter family, sending her nephew on some round-the-world voyage. She said if anything happened to me, how would he face anyone afterward?"

My uncle, angered by her scolding, blurted out everything he should and shouldn't have said. My aunt was finally satisfied when she heard he had plans for me. Not long after, my aunt wrote to me, saying he might be able to get me a position in a newly reorganized department under the Navy, something like 'Assistant Commissioner for Fleet Overseas Supply Affairs Supervision'. It sounded like a long title, but it was actually just a low-ranking administrative post. However, it seemed like a good position; it reported directly to the Naval Supply Affairs Bureau and would allow me to deal with Whitehall.

Darwin, who had spent five years with Elder, was immediately displeased upon hearing this: "Elder, why didn't you tell me about this? Were you afraid I'd take the position from you?" "No, not at all," Elder honestly confessed. "The main reason I didn't tell you is that the position hasn't been created yet. According to my uncle, when the position will be created depends on when I return. If I told you, and you got drunk and let it all slip, my uncle would definitely skin me alive."

Darwin complained, “I’m drunk and let something slip? Please, Elder, when have I ever let my tongue out? Besides, you’ve drunk far more than I have these past few years, so why aren’t you worried about saying something inappropriate while drunk?”

Alexandre Dumas snorted: "You bunch of Englishmen, arranging a job for a relative is more complicated than writing a play. If this happened in Paris, the moment word got out, people would be inviting each other for drinks the next day."

“That’s because you Frenchmen are too optimistic,” Elder mocked. “In the Admiralty, this kind of thing is like smuggling. If no one outside knows, then everyone’s fine. But if someone accidentally leaks the news, and the government investigation comes down on them, then everyone will be in deep trouble.”

Alexandre Dumas didn't believe this explanation: "Isn't it just the same old Whitehall rhetoric? Government investigations? I've never seen any government investigations have any effect. Take the gentleman next to you, for example. Our dear Arthur has been investigated by the government twice, but did they ever find anything wrong? Charles, do you remember how the investigation report on Arthur was written in the end?"

"The Foreign Office confirms that Arthur Hastings, while serving as Cultural Counselor in Russia, participated in talks and arms reconnaissance of local leaders in the Caucasus region without full authorization. Although his actions were motivated by a desire to 'expand the boundaries of British intelligence,' they triggered Russian diplomatic protests, a border closure, and a misjudgment of the situation, and were outside the scope of his mandate at the time. It is recommended that Arthur Hastings be given a warning and that all embassies abroad be notified to take heed. Furthermore, for national security reasons, the full details of this investigation will not be released at this time."

Alexandre Dumas nodded slightly: "And the Tower of London incident."

"The committee believes that Officer Hastings used force within his authority that day, which resulted in civilian casualties, but was legally considered self-defense. He had no premeditated motive for killing, did not act unconstitutionally, and did not violate authorized policing regulations. However, his lack of experience in controlling the scene and the lagging communication mechanism were the main reasons for the escalation of the incident. The committee recommends that these systems be reformed."

Dumas slammed his fist on the table, overjoyed: "Look, Elder, with Arthur's example right in front of you, what do you have to be afraid of?"

Elder clearly had no idea what these audacious guys had been up to in recent years. Although he knew about Arthur being shot through the heart at the Tower of London, Arthur had never discussed the subsequent events in Young Italy and the Caucasus with him in detail in his letters.

Therefore, it's no wonder that he was so fixated on that damn "Assistant Commissioner for Fleet Ocean Supply Affairs Supervision".

Arthur remained silent, listening to their back-and-forth banter, questioning, and mockery, until Dickens finished reciting the two investigation reports from memory. Only then did he cough lightly, drawing everyone's attention back to him.

Arthur had a better roadmap for Elder, for this renowned alumnus of the University of London, than for Elder's own uncle.

“Elder,” Arthur began, “you’re not really going to tell me that you’re going to stuff your brain into ledgers and spend the rest of your life copying warehouse records just for that one piece of paper, are you? I haven’t forgotten your boasts from back then. Who told me you were going to make a name for yourself in Britain? Of course, Assistant Commissioner for Fleet Outbound Supply Affairs? That does sound good, and there might be some lucrative opportunities. After all, you used to help your uncle smuggle Royal Navy goods, so you’re not exactly inexperienced. But we both know that this is just a low-ranking civil service position. In terms of potential, it’s far from comparable to the core positions in Whitehall.”

Elder was taken aback and subconsciously leaned back in his chair: "What do you mean? Do you think I should volunteer to sweep floors in Whitehall? Please, Arthur, those sons of bitches only take tea waitresses. My gender is really at a disadvantage."

Arthur shook his head: "I think you should take this year's Navy Department selection exam."

"What?" Elder's eyes widened.

"The Navy Department has two reserve civilian positions this year. It is noted that these two positions are reserved for people with real-world ocean-going experience and the ability to handle multilingual data and enemy nautical charts."

Arthur said unhurriedly, “Your experience perfectly fits the requirements. As a top student in Classics from the University of London, you speak Latin, French, and even Spanish, which you learned in South America. As a cartographer on the HMS Beagle, you understand nautical charts, voyages, supply routes, and even ship maintenance procedures—things that most office clerks in the Admiralty never learn in their entire lives. Believe me, this position may not be as comfortable as the one your uncle offered, but both positions are held in the White Building of the Admiralty. In other words, if you develop well, you could become a Third Secretary, Second Secretary, First Secretary… even a Chief Secretary.”

As Elder listened to Arthur's detailed explanation, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper, as if he were reading a debt collection letter rather than a suggestion for promotion.

He picked up his glass, took a sip, and then made a face as if he had a toothache.

“Uh… I’m not saying the White House in the Navy Department is bad, it’s just…” Elder began hesitantly, “Arthur, you know how it is, those people in the Navy Department are all incredibly inflexible. They do get paid well, and there’s even a so-called loyalty bonus at the end of the year, but the real money is made in places like the Naval Supply Department and shipbuilding procurement, which are rolling in profits. It’s true that I’m aiming too high by joining the White House, but that means I’ll be buried in piles of documents every day, and I’ll be living on a shoestring budget. Don’t forget, I’m drowning in debt, and I don’t want to end up in debtors’ prison.”

"What you're afraid of is not getting any profit," Arthur said with a slight smile. "But have you forgotten what you have on hand?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you own our stock? A thousand preferred shares. If you're short of money, I'll propose a buyback of your shares at the board meeting tomorrow, at market price. You'll receive nine thousand pounds by next week at the latest, and I guarantee you won't lose a penny."

(One more chapter will be added later)
(End of this chapter)