Chapter 275: Why things are always so bad in Eldar

Chapter 274 Why things are always so bad in Elder (7K2)

Dear Arthur:
How have you been doing lately? Oh, life on the Beagle has been quite full, but I still can’t help but want to write to you friends in London, so please give my regards to Alexander, Benjamin, and Charles, one by one, and tell them not to forget that they have another friend floating on the other side of the world at sea.

Whoops, almost forgot, I may have offended Elder a bit by saying that, but if Alexander and the others are willing to see Elder as a species in the same dimension as themselves, then that’s barely two friends.

On February 28th the expedition formally entered the Amazon jungle from Bahia, and Arthur, you can’t imagine the delight of a naturalist at the sight of a dense and luxuriant forest. Elegant grasses, strange parasitic plants, beautiful but deadly flowers, lush foliage, the moment I stepped into the Amazon jungle, I felt that if there is a paradise on earth, it must be hidden in this endless sea of green.

Unfortunately, my joy didn’t last long. Not long after the team entered the Amazon, a tropical rainstorm started, and the team hid under a 10-meter tree to avoid the rain according to their experience in Britain. The branches and leaves of this large tree grew very dense, if it was the rain of London, most likely can not penetrate. But the British experience proved useless for the Amazon jungle.

Elder was bored when hiding from the rain, so he copied the sticks on the ground and played the conductor of the orchestra, and the sailors were happy to cooperate with him, and the group was in the Amazon mud puddle concert in the Coburg Theater in general. Unfortunately, just as Elder lifted his baton, we heard a loud clacking sound from the canopy, and then saw a torrent of water rushing down the trunk of the tree.

At that time, Elder was quoting a song, and as a result, he didn’t pay attention and was directly dunked in a big mouthful. Hahaha, Arthur, do you know what kind of a sight it is when a flood falls from the sky? Imagine the account in the Bible: the flood inundated the earth for 40 days and nights, and the water rose so high that even the mountains and hills were submerged. The situation we encountered was not as dramatic as the Bible, but it was similar.

The overwhelming torrent of floodwaters roared down from various large trees in the neighborhood, and all of us were swept to our knees, unable to stand up. All we could do was hold on to each other and hug the trunks of the trees, and just push through the current for almost half an hour. Fortunately, the Amazon rainstorms come and go quickly, if not, Elder and I might have sunk in the river to feed the fish.

On a side note, while exploring the waters off the Brazilian coast, we found several bands of murky water, some chocolate-colored, others light red or light green.

I thought at first that this was sediment washed into the sea by floodwaters, but then I realized that the strips turned out to be made up of plankton and crustaceans. Seal hunters who live nearby refer to this stuff as – whale bait. I don’t know if whales actually feed on this stuff, but the terns, cormorants, and large flocks of rough and tumble seals that live along the coast do include these little guys in their diet.

The colorful strips were very noteworthy indeed, even if you leave out the zooplankton and look at the crustaceans alone, and even Elder couldn’t help but quip that the little crabs, which looked like large pairs of prawns, were taking neat steps, and walking in a way that was almost prettier than the Army’s formation of the Light Red Array.

What kind of power is it that drives them to take such magnificent steps? Is it really the power of God that the fish eggs, silk algae and ciliates that are mixed with them are all moving randomly?
If that’s the case, then God is too biased. Why does he only teach crabs to walk in a straight line? Did the shrimp do something wrong?
Arthur, if you are free, perhaps you could go to church and help me ask the learned and eloquent bishops for advice on this question. After all, in their mouths, any question is going to make some sense to you. Wow, maybe you should have waited until the crab specimen I sent you arrived. You might get blown out of the church if you make empty promises to the bishops that crabs can kick the right way.

Of course, though I may be a little sorry for Alexander for saying so. But please remind him more when the specimen arrives, I’ve already tasted the crab, the flavor can’t be called delicious, and the size is really too small, so please don’t cook the specimen that I’ve managed to get so hard.

By the way, if the bishops are in denial about the crab, I beg you to forward the specimen again for me to Mr. John Henslowe, the beetle expert of the Linnean Society. Mr. Henslowe took much care of me when I was a student at Cambridge, and he certainly knows how to appreciate these pretty little things. Incidentally, the specimens also include a color-changing octopus, which unfortunately seems to change color only when it is alive, and it automatically loses this ability when it dies.

Also, I have to give a final warning that the specimens I sent back included a stinging triggerfish, which not only has a prickly surface, but its needles are also highly poisonous. I’ve found this in the stomachs of several dead sharks, so keep an eye on Alexander and don’t let him eat this.

Well, the next time I send you a letter, it should be from Argentina or Tierra del Fuego. Speaking of which, that jaguar Elder hunted tasted really good, but it’s a shame the meat doesn’t keep well, or I’d have been able to send a little back for you and Alexander to feast on. Of course, all this assumes that the merchant sailors who help us deliver the message don’t steal the food.

Your friend, witness of the Amazonian extinction flood, egalitarian supporter of small crabs and prawns, and well-known gourmand of the Amazon and the Andes, Charles Darwin.

Written on July 5, 1831, on the eve of departure from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

The wood fire in the fireplace was crackling, and the morose air in the room had lightened considerably.

The group held their coffee cups and listened to Arthur read the letter while pouring a mouthful of hot coffee into their bellies, feeling warm and fuzzy all over.

Dumas heard Arthur read the end of the letter, and immediately felt that the potato pie in his mouth does not taste good.

He muttered, “Isn’t it just a crab? What’s the big deal if I taste it, can’t you ask Charles to send more? If it’s a jaguar, it can be made into bacon or cured meat! Haven’t Charles and Elder ever had bacon? It’s made the same way. As for the prickly triggerfish being poisonous or whatever …… Oh well, how will I know unless I taste it?”

Dickens sat on the carpet, clasping his knees with both hands and lamenting, “We’re both Charles, but now Charles of Cambridge has seen a much wider world than I have. The storms of the sea, the jungles of the Amazon, and even an octopus that changes color and a crab that can kick in the right direction and line up. If I didn’t know Charles, I would have thought he was making it up. My God! Who would have thought it was all actually true!”

Disraeli’s eyes, on the other hand, rolled violently, and he suddenly spoke up and suggested, “Arthur, these novelty stories sound just too topical. It just so happens that our Britannica is short of articles, if we slightly organize the articles Charles sent back and publish them in the magazine, it will definitely help increase sales. That way, we can also explain properly to our readers why The Monkey’s Tale has stopped. Almost every issue since Charles and the others left has had letters from readers accusing him of breaking and running.”

Hearing this, Arthur frowned slightly and spoke, “Are you planning to tell the readers that the reason why the author broke the shift was because he went off to work on Evolution? Well …… but indeed, that sounds like a pretty good reason. And these letters from Charles are really wonderfully written, let’s publish it under the name ‘Diary of the Voyage of the Beagle’, and with a few illustrations of the specimens Charles sent back, it’ll surely be a big hit.”

“Well ……” Disraeli also nodded: “That’s right, and the illustrator should also use the best artist, we do not lack the money for these specimen illustrations now. Some other day is free, you and I together to go to the Royal Academy of Fine Arts to look for.”

Arthur sniffed and clipped out another letter hidden under Darwin’s letterhead, “And Elder’s side, should we publish it?”

Disraeli sniffed and hurriedly opened his eyeglass case, taking out the gold-rimmed frames with no lenses that he had bought to pretend to be a fake Svengali and put them on the bridge of his nose.

He spoke, “We still need to review Mr. Carter’s manuscript, publishing erotic literature is against the law in Britain. I’m about to be elected to Parliament, and I can’t afford to make the same mistake as Bernie Harrison at this point.”

Dumas just waved his hand and said, “That’s not a big deal, let’s set up a Parisian sub-publication, we’ve never cared much about this in France. And in my opinion, Elder alone would be enough to take on the burden of a Parisian supplement.”

Arthur also agreed: “That’s right, Benjamin, if the Britannia, in which you are the majority shareholder, breaks out in an erotic scandal, you will not be able to be elected as a member of parliament in Britain. But if you can change your constituency to Paris in time, then more than likely you can win big.

Or if you could persuade the people to change the voting method to secret ballot, then I think you could win in London as well. But it can’t be helped, the voting is all secret ballot now, so naturally the gentlemen can’t vote as they please.”

Dumas nodded his head at that and said, “That’s still a fair point, the nature of the citizens of Paris has always been that they don’t like to hide things, but London is different.”

Dickens laughed out loud twice as he pointed to the Elder letterhead and urged, “Anyway, we’re the only ones here, so there’s no need to hide it. So Arthur, just read it quickly.”

Arthur unfolded the letterhead and was greeted by a whiff of the sea, and just as he was about to give a colorful rendition of it, the first sentence written on Elder’s letterhead nearly made him choke.

Arthur, fuck this, I was almost fucking raped by a dolphin!

I’ll bet you a penny this dolphin mostly flunked out of Oxford! And flunked out and went to Cambridge to get re-educated!

Fuckin’ hell. This place in Rio de Janeiro is my nemesis!

First I get ripped off by two bitches, then I almost get flooded into the Garden of Eden while exploring the Amazon jungle, and now I can’t even get out of Rio de Janeiro without something good happening to me!

On July 5th we left Rio de Janeiro for La Plata and I was sitting on the deck in the sun enjoying the salty sea air. Suddenly, a white wave appeared on the blue sea, followed by hundreds of dolphins breaking out of the sea, leaping out one after another, tumbling and revealing their athletic bodies.

At that time our speed was about eight to nine knots, but this group of dolphins not only could keep up with our speed, but also could flexibly and freely weave in and out of the Beagle’s bow and stern, and they seemed to regard this as a kind of pastime and entertainment, and they all played quite happily.

What a magnificent sight it was! Arthur, you know me, I can’t help but feel the classical literature cells in my body stirring when I encounter such a scene, and I can’t help but praise the sunrise on the sea surface with these sea sprites and intend to compose a poem!
I was instantly reminded of Lord Byron’s poem “The Maiden of Athens”, and I finally understood Lord Byron’s feelings at the time when he composed this poem.

Facing the waves of the golden sea and the beautiful creatures that are fading away from us, I couldn’t help but recite.

“O maiden of Athens, before we part, give me back my heart, give me back my heart!
Or, since it is detached from me, keep it, and take the rest!

Hear a word of my parting vow: Thou art my life, and I love thee.

I’ll chase it with every Aegean wind by virtue of that unbridled curl.

I will kiss the redness of your cheeks with the lashes of my alabaster-rimmed eyes.

With those deer-like eyes, I will swear: You are my life, I love you.

And my lips that I have longed to taste, and that light and tight waist.

By these flowers of love, which are more than words can say.

I will say, by love’s string of sorrows and joys: you are my life, and I love you.”

However, I had just recited this when the railing I was holding on to was perhaps rotting from the waves. Without paying attention, Lao Zi actually fell straight down the railing into the sea.

The group of dolphins were about to go far away, but after realizing that I had fallen into the sea, they actually turned back from the surface of the sea. Several dolphins one on top of the other sandwiched Laozi in the middle, and in one go, they pushed me up to the surface of the sea, keeping me from drowning. However, before I could thank them, I suddenly felt as if there was something behind me topping me.

When I looked back, that scene I just couldn’t bear to describe.

It was then that I came to the realization that they were not some gentle and touching Athenian maidens, this was a bunch of the roughest, rudest, and most barbaric Spartans of the sea!

Although they didn’t get their way in the end, I was really fucked up, being humiliated by the dolphins wasn’t enough, the key was that a boat full of people were standing on the deck watching! They were far away at the time though, so they shouldn’t have known exactly what was happening to me.

I didn’t even tell Charles about it, and after the boat rescued me, they just saw that I didn’t say a word.

Colonel Fitzroy thought I was in shock, so he had the ship’s doctor prescribe me some medicine and sent me back to my cabin to rest. But how can a man get over his hurt so quickly after such an encounter?

At that time, I was lying in the crew lounge, looking at the scenery outside the porthole, and I felt that my life had become gray, and I seemed to have aged a few dozen years at once. As soon as I closed my eyes, I saw the scene of falling into the sea, which was like a nightmare that lingered in my mind.

I couldn’t sleep for almost the whole night, I dawdled on the boat until three o’clock, and only then did I barely feel sleepy.

But not long after I had fallen asleep, a mournful cow’s cry suddenly rang in my ears, and I opened my eyes wearily, thinking that I had sailed into the deepest and darkest abyss of hell because of my unwashable sins.

With Charles’s assistance, I crutched my way to the deck, and it was a dark night, with no stars or moon visible in the sky. Colonel Fitzroy ordered the lights to be raised, and a searchlight shone on the shore, and it was only then that I could see exactly which fellows were making those mournful cattle calls, which turned out to be flocks of seals and penguins.

The fat seals were rolling on the beach with their bucket-like waists and big bellies, and every now and then they had to slap their bellies to make a little noise, and to tell the truth, they looked just like Alexander.

As for the penguins, their skin is black and white, and they seem to be very polite to each other, bowing slightly when they meet their companions as a sign of respect.

Arthur, you may not believe it, but these penguins look just like you at General Codrington’s party. Of course, there are still differences between them and you; they are missing their monocle and a proper bowler hat. I don’t think anyone could have behaved more gentlemanly than these penguins at a London social gathering if they had been given a walking stick.

I could not help feeling sadness in my heart at these scenes. Why on earth should a young, strong, full of life, aspiring young man of Britain come to such a place. Did I come to see these seals and penguins? But obviously I could have seen them if I’d stayed in London!
And you and Alexander are doing better than the penguins and seals!
I was like, “Oh, my God! Why on earth would you punish your most faithful believer like that? Are you trying to make me Jesus? If You really want me to enlighten the world and to be that Messiah, then please crucify me, please color this azure ocean red with drops of my dried blood! But please don’t humiliate me with such behavior. Why do you want to use a dolphin as my Judas?

I gazed into the deep, dark sky, gripped tightly the cross on Charles’ chest, and pressed it to my chest to pray to God.

In the midst of the silence, I could perceive nothing, Charles’ neck was uncomfortably tugged at by me, he wanted to curse me, so he could.

These worldly murmurs could no longer thwart my unwavering faith.

Suddenly, as if I sensed an answer from God, the sky was suddenly drizzling with light rain, thunder and dark clouds, suddenly a thunderbolt crossed the sky, even though I had my eyelids tightly closed, my eyes were still illuminated by the radiant light.

Immediately afterward, I heard a cry of alarm from Charles in the midst of the storm, and he exclaimed, “Look at that! That’s the Light of St. Elmo!”

My eyes snapped open, and for the life of me I will never forget what was probably the most brilliantly beautiful scene I have ever seen, in my life.

A web of lightning was attached to the mast of the Beagle, a brilliant, magnificent blue-white flash like a flame, which slowly bloomed and blossomed. Arthur, at this time, I suddenly remembered the oriental myth that you had told me before.

I’m afraid that’s the holy lotus flower under Buddha’s seat, right?
I don’t want to hide it from you, Arthur. That night, I shed tears.

Who are you?
Where have you come from?
And where are you going?

I’ve been asked these three questions by countless people on this journey around the world.

Only at the time, I didn’t understand the meaning of these three questions.

But now, I figured it out.

It’s only from this moment that I finally understand.

I am an Eastern monk.

I come from the Great Eastern Land.

To fetch scriptures in the Western Heaven.

Amitabha Buddha, Arthur, I must solemnly ask you, is that what monks are called?
On a side note, it’s also a secret that I’ve quietly changed my religion, so don’t tell anyone out of the blue, or you’ll get me in trouble.

By the way, one last thing, that oriental story you told me before, the main character is called Wukong, right?
Well, that’s a good name, I’ll borrow it for now.

Lastly, if you’re free, remember to inquire for me if there’s any sect of monks who are allowed to take wives.

Your friend, Beagle Walker, Royal Navy Resident, the first monk in South America, Elder Goku Carter.

Composed on July 8, 1831, at the mouth of the Rio de la Plata, Argentina.

Arthur saw the end of the letter and savored it for a few moments before finally sorting out the course of Elder’s mind.

He could not stop twitching at the corners of his eyes, and for this friend of his, even if his mind was as smooth as Arthur’s, he could not help but read a couple sentences, “Why are things always so bad with Elder?”

As for the Red Devil on the side, he laughed so hard that he couldn’t straighten his back, “Who would go to hell if I don’t go to hell? This kid Elder has found a shortcut to hell!”

And Dumas and the others who listened to Elder’s letter were also silenced by this friend with a clear brain circuit.

Dickens asked, “So? He’s a Buddhist monk now?”

Arthur gently shook his head, “Forget it, Charles, Elder’s knowledge of monks is limited to the fact that he knows there is such a thing as a monk in the world. He doesn’t even know that you have to shave your head to be a monk.”

“You can be a monk if you’re bald?” Dumas sipped his cigarette and said, “Then there are too many monks in Britain.”

Disraeli emphasized, “Alexander, we just have a lot of bald people here, but bald people more or less have some hair!”

Dumas nodded slightly, “Then I stand corrected, there are still quite a few fake monks in Britain.”

Dickens looked at Elder’s letter and thought about it, and opened his mouth to ask, “So this letter will be able to make it to the newspaper? Why do I get the feeling that this letter is much more explosive than erotic literature?”

Arthur also felt that this letter from Elder was a bit hot, he hesitated for half a day and finally sighed, “Why don’t we just change the second half of it, and try to change the dolphin thing as much as possible, and adapt it to say that we ran into Amazonian cannibals, but the strong-willed Royal Navy warrior Elder withstood the test of life and death, and after depression he saw St. Elmo’s Light that God had sent down. In the light of this miraculous bolt of lightning, which has been passed down from generation to generation of sailors, Elder seems to see the soul of the Royal Navy, Admiral Horatio Nelson, beckoning to him. In the end, Elder’s knot was finally untied, and after all the vicissitudes of life, Elder Carter’s faith in God in his heart became more and more solid. It is summed up by adding the phrase ‘God Bless Britain’.”

When Dumas heard this, he couldn’t help but spit out, “God bless the United States of America isn’t that a Yankee motto? Arthur, you are plagiarizing!”

But Disraeli clearly disagreed with Dumas, and returned, “The Yankees are all made in Britain, and if God blessed the United States of America, then God must have blessed Britain first, Alexander, you’ve got to get the cause and effect right.”

At the end of his words, Disraeli also didn’t forget to give Arthur a thumbs up, nodding his head and praising, “This story just sounds very politically correct. If this story spreads a little more widely, it’s possible that Elder could be stuffed into the church as a bishop when he comes back.”

Dumas also sniffed and teased, “Shouldn’t he still be canonized or something?”

“Indeed.” Arthur took a sip of tea to calm down, “Wukong is at least the Buddha, but of course, no matter what saint or Buddha, in the end, it is still a monkey.”

While the group was talking, Dickens had already sketched out the synopsis of the story on the manuscript paper in front of him.

He opened his mouth with his pencil in his mouth and asked, “What do you think is a good name for this story?”

Dumas pondered for a moment, “How about The Conquest of the Dolphin?”

Dickens shook his head with his teacup, “But wasn’t Mr. Carter conquered? And for the sake of preserving his honor, dolphins cannot appear in this story.”

Disraeli pondered for a moment, “How about Crusaders at Sea?”

Dickens mulled it over for a moment, “That’s a good one, but it might not fit in well with the main idea.”

Just as the group was hesitating, Arthur sighed and spoke, “Let’s call it St. George’s Flag As Usual. St. George’s Cross corresponds to the Royal Navy, and Rise As Usual represents Elder coming out of his depression. Though I don’t think the guy was depressed at all, he was just sick of idleness. But anyway, it’s always for publicity purposes, Charles, so you write it that way.”

Dickens nodded slightly as he lifted his pen to drop the title at the head of the manuscript, then snapped his fingers and said, “Good! I also think this title is good, so let’s make a decision. In the next issue of ‘The Englishman’, we will mainly promote ‘The Diary of the Voyage of the Beagle’ and ‘The Flag of St. George Rising as Usual’.”

Disraeli also clenched his fists and cheered for the group, “It’s a good opportunity to see how far we’ve come with The Cockney! Guys, all step up and see if we can’t create two brand new sea gods in Britannia in the time it takes the Beagle to sail!”

(End of chapter)