The Shadow of Great Britain

572: Chapter 292: The Secret of the Port Authority_2 572: Chapter 292: The Secret of the Port Authority_2 “Mike, why do you look so confident?

Does Palmerston’s word give you that much confidence?

Don’t forget, he has a history in this matter.

It was he who signed the order to deploy the cavalry to suppress the town of Peterloo, and he was also one of the leaders behind the six acts.

He speaks well, but who says the Whig Party won’t change their mind when the time comes?”

“Even if they change their mind, they need to have the ability to do so!

To push for parliamentary reform, Earl Grey is now at loggerheads with Duke Wellington, who, although currently out of office, still holds the titles of Governor of the Cinque Ports and Commander in Chief of the Army.

If the Cabinet wants to take military action and Wellington disagrees, guess who the army would listen to?”

“I guess the Cabinet might send someone to dig up Napoleon’s coffin from Saint Helena Island and bring it to London.”

“Our company handled that job, just as long as the Cabinet doesn’t enforce a quarantine policy.”

“Of course, they can’t quarantine; can you imagine quarantine the body for forty days?

Wouldn’t it be teeming with maggots by the time it reached shore?”

“As soon as you open the cargo hold, the room would be filled with miasma.”

“Ah…so Napoleon caused the cholera after all this commotion?”

“What else?

Most of Britain’s plagues are the French disease.”

At this point, the old men burst into hearty laughter, their top hats falling to the ground.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door of the recreation room.

Gladstone entered the room, and before he could open his mouth, old Mr.

Roseville cheerily inquired: “Oh, my dear William, are you having a pleasant evening?”

At this, Gladstone blushed slightly, holding his drink and nodding, “Quite pleasant, Mr.

Roseville.

I thoroughly enjoyed discussing music, literature, and art tonight; of course, the Bible was included too.”

Upon hearing this, Mr.

Roseville shook his head while stroking his chin: “William, you are still having rather superficial discussions; you could delve into deeper subjects.”

“Well…” Gladstone fell silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Are you suggesting I should discuss the recent announcement by the Bank of England and Barings Bank to cut interest rates?”

The mischievous old men nearby latched onto his words.

“Yes, William, talk about that, we are interested.”

“You could also mention your views on overseas trade and how quarantine policies would disastrously impact the prices of cotton and linen.”

“And perhaps discuss your take on the recent political situation abroad, with the Ottoman Empire’s Egyptian Pasha Muhammad Ali being rather restless!

I hope he doesn’t affect my business in Levant.”

Upon hearing this, Roseville hurriedly spoke up to drown out the voices of the unserious old men,

“William, don’t listen to them.

If you don’t want to discuss in-depth topics, talking about lighter subjects will do.

Whether in Latin, Spanish, or French.

Oh, and don’t forget the piano!

The tuition I’m paying for the private tutors isn’t for nothing!”

The older Gladstone could no longer hold back upon hearing this; he had always looked down on Roseville, a nouveau riche who started from a street stall.

Although Gladstone himself came from a middle-class background, it did not stop him from feeling that Roseville, a clockmaker, was unbearably crude.

Gathering his playing cards, he asked, “William, is there something you need?”

Gladstone, hearing this, quickly bent down to whisper beside his father: “I just saw Mr.

Hearst, the Port Director, heading to the smoking room, where Mr.

Hasting was also present, and they’ve been there for quite some time.”

“Oh?

Really?” Old Gladstone said, throwing his poker cards on the table, lighting a cigar, and rising to say his farewells to his friends: “Always playing cards isn’t good for health; time for a dance, I’ll be right back.”

…

In the smoking room, Arthur sat in a chair with a pipe in his mouth, watching as Port Director Hearst sifted through the documents in his hands.

“Mr.

Hearst, I had Mr.

Mil of the East India Company briefly review the report you submitted to me.

The issues it reveals are indeed surprising and alarming.”

Hearst, feigning ignorance, asked, “Mr.

Hasting, the Port Authority indeed has many shortcomings in its work.

But I believe, with your guidance, we can certainly rectify these bad practices soon.”

Hearst’s attitude was conspicuously clear; the Port Authority was of course willing to cooperate with Arthur’s work, but how and in what aspects they would cooperate depended on what Arthur found.

Although the Liverpool Association had prepared nearly twenty thousand pounds in discretionary funds to smooth things over, adhering to the principle of spending as little as possible, if Arthur wasn’t too greedy, flattering him a bit more would also be acceptable.

Seeing Hearst’s unyielding demeanor, Arthur knew he needed to provide some evidence to the old man.

Even though it was Scotland Yard’s turf, Arthur still had to apply for an arrest warrant to apprehend someone, let alone here, on someone else’s territory.

And Hearst’s seeming fearlessness was merely because he had a stack of supporters behind him.

The port expansion project indeed had problems, but he wasn’t the only one benefiting from the money collected; after all, with giants like Goliath to support him, and besides, were the West India docks project and the soon-to-be operational Thames tunnel project really that clean?

And in fact, Arthur wasn’t sure about the cleanliness of the West India docks project, but he was quite clear about the issues with the Thames tunnel project, since he held nearly a thousand pounds in stocks of the tunnel company.