The Shadow of Great Britain

418: Chapter 238 Why Are Things Always So Bad for Eld (7K2) Part 3 418: Chapter 238 Why Are Things Always So Bad for Eld (7K2) Part 3 At that time, our speed was around eight to nine knots, but these dolphins could not only keep up with our pace but also zipped agilely from the bow to the stern of the Beagle.

They seemed to consider it a form of entertainment and were quite joyous in play.

What a splendid spectacle it was!

Arthur, you know how I am—upon encountering such a scene, all of the classical literature cells in my body couldn’t help but stir with excitement.

Witnessing the morning twilight on the sea surface and these maritime sprites, I couldn’t resist tapping my thigh in admiration, planning to compose a poem!

I immediately thought of Lord Byron’s “Maid of Athens,” and for the first time, I fully understood the emotions Lord Byron experienced while crafting that poem.

Before the rolling golden sea and these beautiful creatures drifting away from us, I couldn’t help reciting aloud.

“Maid of Athens, ere we part, give, oh give me back my heart!

Or, since that has left my breast, keep it now, and take the rest!

Hear my vow before I go, My life I love you so.”

I swear by those untamed ringlets, every breath of Aegean wind pursues them.

I swear by those ebony-fringed eyes, their lashes kissing the blush upon your cheeks.

I swear by those eyes like those of a wild doe: My life I love you so.”

And those lips, long desired, and that bounding waist so tight.

I swear by these tokens of affection, which surpass all spoken expression.

I say with a chain of love’s mixed emotion: My life I love you so.”

However, just as I had recited up to here, the railing I was leaning on must have been rotted by the waves.

Before I knew it, I tumbled right over the railing and into the sea.

The dolphins were about to leave, but when they discovered I had fallen in, they turned back from the surface.

A few dolphins, one above and one below, sandwiched me in the middle and promptly pushed me back up to the surface, preventing me from drowning.

However, before I could even thank them, I suddenly felt something pushing against my back.

When I turned to look, the scene was simply too distressing to describe.

It was then that I had an epiphany—these were not the tender, enchanting Maidens of Athens, this was a gang of the most savage, most disrespectful, most barbaric sea Spartans!

Although they ultimately didn’t succeed, I was truly fucked.

To be so humiliated by dolphins was bad enough, but what’s worse, the whole ship’s crew were all standing on deck watching!

However, they were far enough away so they probably didn’t see what exactly happened to me.

I didn’t even disclose this incident to Charles.

After the crew had rescued me, I just remained silent.

Colonel Fitzroy thought I had been excessively frightened and had the ship’s doctor prescribe me some medicine before sending me back to the cabin to rest.

But how could one quickly recover from such an ordeal?

I lay there in the sailors’ rest area, staring out the porthole at the scenery, feeling as though all the color had faded from life and as if I had aged decades in an instant.

Every time I closed my eyes, the scene of falling into the ocean replayed like a nightmarish dream that refused to leave my mind.

I stayed up night after night, unable to sleep.

I lingered on the ship until three in the morning, only then managing to feel a hint of drowsiness.

Yet just as I had fallen asleep, my ears were suddenly filled with the haunting sound of mooing.

I opened my weary eyes, wondering if I had embarked to the deepest and darkest abyss of Hell because of my unclean sins.

With Charles’ help, I made it to the deck, supported by a cane.

It was a pitch-black night with no stars or moon visible in the sky.

Colonel Fitzroy ordered the lights raised, and the searchlights shone on the shore, where I finally made out the source of those haunting moos: a group of sea lions and penguins.

The hefty sea lions wriggled their barrel-like waist, their large bellies rolling on the beach, occasionally slapping themselves to make a sound, truth be told, similar to Alexander.

As for the penguins, their skin was a polite interchange of black and white, and they bowed slightly to their companions in a courteous greeting.

Arthur, you might not believe it, but these penguins looked just like you at General Cordington’s banquet.

Of course, there are differences—they lacked monocles and appropriate top hats.

Should we find them each a cane, I believe none at the London social gatherings would be more gentlemanly than these penguins.

Witnessing these scenes, I couldn’t help but feel desolate.

Why had a young, strong, and knowledgeable Briton come to such a place?

Was I here to watch these sea lions and penguins?

But I could have easily seen them in London as well!

You and Alexander performed even better than the penguins and sea lions!

I thought to myself, Oh, my God!

Why do you punish your most faithful this way?

Are you trying to make me Jesus?

If you truly wish for me to enlighten humanity, to become the Messiah, then please crucify me upon the cross, let my dry blood dye this azure ocean red!

But please do not humiliate me in such a manner.

Why use dolphins as my Judas?