The Shadow of Great Britain

Eld grew more and more worked up as he spoke, and it was as if the stubble he had shaved clean that very morning was about to sprout from his chin all over again.

He had just been about to launch into the story of how General Nelson had personally handed his uncle a telescope, when he heard Arthur beside him say in a languid tone, ”All right then. Since you’re far too lofty to care about titles, the next time I go into Buckingham Palace I’ll just pass along a message for you to Her Majesty the Queen and tell her you’re not interested in the Royal Medal either.”

Eld had been all ready to give Arthur a proper lecture on the Carter Family’s glorious tradition of loyalty and sacrifice. He had just hit his stride with the lofty rhetoric, but as soon as Arthur finished speaking, he froze up as if struck by lightning, his whole body stuck in midair like a piece of wood.

”Wait a moment... what did you just say? What Medal?”

Arthur unhurriedly poured half a cup of tea. ”The Royal Medal. Not a title, not an order, and not the knighthood, but at least it carries the royal arms, is personally approved by the Queen, and bears the name of George IV—something genuine, at any rate. It’s currently hanging over at the Royal Society, and they’re planning to meet at the end of the year to decide. Originally, the Royal Society’s recommendation list for this year had only Charles on it. The day the list was sent to Buckingham Palace, I happened to be with Her Majesty the Queen, and she asked for my opinion of the list.”

”I... my dear Arthur.” Eld’s mouth opened and closed like a flounder stranded on the beach. ”This... this Charles you just mentioned, who is he? That bald fellow, Charles Darwin?”

”If it isn’t Charles Darwin, who else would it be—Charles Dickens?” Arthur took a sip of tea. ”You can’t very well expect me to say it’s Charles Rowan.”

Eld could barely contain his excitement, though he still forced himself to sound composed. ”And... what did you tell Her Majesty the Queen?”

”I told her that the outstanding contributions made by Mr. Charles Darwin during the voyage of the Beagle were of course impossible to overlook, but that one must also take into consideration the leadership of Captain Fitzroy and the assistance rendered by Mr. Eld Carter. So Her Majesty the Queen wrote a letter to the Royal Society, expressing the hope that your two names be added to the list of candidates for the Royal Medal.”

At this, Eld nearly jumped out of his chair. ”So you’re saying... you mean... I, Eld Carter, by this time next year, will be a recipient of the Royal Medal?”

Arthur nodded. ”More or less, provided the Royal Society raises no objection.”

”They... they shouldn’t object, should they?”

”Well...” Arthur pinched his chin and pondered for a while. ”Hard to say.”

Eld felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head from crown to heel; he stiffened at once. ”Hard to say? What do you mean, ’hard to say’?! Is it because my father and grandfather aren’t members of the Royal Society the way Charles’s father and grandfather are, that it’s suddenly ’hard to say’ in my case?”

Arthur took a leisurely sip of tea. ”That’s not the entire reason, but at bottom, you’ve never published a single paper in philosophy or natural philosophy, you don’t belong to any public-school faction, and you’ve never attended even one academic salon. There isn’t so much as a trace of you in the Royal Society’s archives...”

”What about the charts I drew?” Eld burst out, suddenly frantic. He clawed at his hair, protesting on his own behalf. ”What about my Beagle’s South American Coastal Atlas? Even that bald Charles borrowed my volume several times to consult! You call that ’no academic output’? Arthur, you have to understand, I put more care into those sea charts than you did into writing your reports!”

”Care is care...” Arthur said with a smile. ”If you hadn’t drawn those few sea monsters of your own invention into that atlas and labelled them ’Cateron sighted’, I daresay it might have counted as an academic achievement.”

Eld’s face flushed crimson as he argued back, righteous and indignant. ”You don’t understand! That was scientific humor!”

”But you do know the Royal Society is unlikely to appreciate that particular joke.”

”Bullshit!” Eld slapped the table, though this time the sound was noticeably weaker. ”Then why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could have recopied the charts, added a deluxe cover, even given that Cateron a more formal rendering, then had the whole thing reissued... Damn it all... this is Alexander’s fault! That fat man told me readers might enjoy that kind of commemorative design.”

Arthur glanced up at him. ”Weren’t you just saying that titles and Medals are an insult to your character?”

Eld started, his eyes darting about twice as they whirled, then he instantly rearranged his face into a look of solemn propriety. ”Arthur, what I was talking about was the Baronetcy! A baronetcy is for people who keep mangy dogs and live off nepotism! But the Royal Medal—that’s a laurel of intellect, the crystallization of the spirit of the Empire, the honorary Medal of the Natural Philosopher... I can’t let down Her Majesty the Queen’s expectations, nor can I let you down, Arthur, since you personally saw to it that my name was put forward!”

Arthur gave a soft ”oh”, then immediately began issuing instructions. ”In that case, you’d better get a move on. The Royal Society’s annual meeting is in September, and they’ll need to collate all the recommendation materials for the candidates a month in advance. If that volume of yours is still stuffed in a manila envelope somewhere, I suggest you don’t wait until August to start working on it.”

Eld was already patting his pockets as if he meant to pull out pen and paper on the spot and begin drafting an outline. ”Arthur, tell me, should I mark out the voyage route all the way from Plymouth to the Malvinas Islands and then across to the Falkland Islands, or just pick a few representative charts? Does Her Majesty the Queen prefer black-and-white, or should I add watercolors? I could ask my sister to draft a few new plates—she did watercolour when she was a child...”