Chapter 72: Operation Green Vein 5: Warwick Dock
The barge started at dawn and arrived at its destination, Warwick, at dusk.
The weather was fine, the boat sailed steadily, and the scenery along both banks was beautiful. The canal landscape was a crisscrossing tapestry of industry and pastoral life. Two hours earlier, you might have seen an iron foundry with roaring engines and blazing flames, and two hours later, pastures and oak forests, endless flocks of sheep, and sparse villages.
But most of the time they stayed in the cabins, mainly because the canal was narrow in many places and the locks were numerous and dense, with one having to pass through a lock almost every hour. Staying on the deck meant being crowded, noisy, and covered in coal dust, because the canal was full of narrow coal ships.
At this time, the cabin on the second floor is the best place. After all, the canal is not the sea. The river water is often a deep green-brown color, with rainbow-colored irises formed by oil, wood chips, and vegetable leaves floating on it. The viewing effect is not very good if you are too close.
After the initial excitement of the first few hours, Heather was overcome with fatigue. After lunch, she climbed onto her soft bed and fell into a deep sleep. The gentle rocking of the boat was perfect for sleeping. Mary didn't want to sleep. She had never been on a modern, two-dollar ferry before, and this was her first time on such a long-distance vessel, so she didn't want to waste a minute.
When Heather opened her eyes again, it was already dark. She groped for the alarm clock on the bedside table in a daze, then she remembered that she was not at home.
Mary came in from the balcony and collapsed on the small sofa, already drooping. She said weakly, "Aunt, the maid just came up and said that we will be disembarking in about half an hour."
Heather rubbed herself comfortably on the quilt and decided to ask Lancaster for the quilt after getting off the boat. This fabric, made of unknown material, was more to her liking than any other fabric on the market.
She opened her eyes contentedly and looked: "Oh, my God, Mary, you didn't sleep for a minute?" There was not even a wrinkle on the other bed next to her.
Mary nodded and picked up the sketchpad leaning against the wall. "I want to paint a canal scene using the techniques Anna taught me, but I just can't get it right. I always feel like something's missing."
Heather asked her to hold it up and look at it. "Hmm, this looks exactly like the real thing. It's perfect."
Mary couldn't accept this assessment and felt that her aunt was doting on her child. "Well, it seems God hasn't given me a talent for painting. I think some people are born with the ability to paint pictures with soul, like this one in today's morning paper."
Heather climbed up and leaned against the headboard. He took the painting and saw that it depicted a worker. An elderly worker, his face wrinkled, leaned against a pile of garbage, nibbling on half a loaf of black bread. Behind him, a tall chimney billowed black smoke that rose into the sky, like a gallows. To the left, a portly landowner sat in a carriage, enjoying a mountain of barbecue.
Isn't this the case that while the rich enjoy luxury, the poor freeze to death on the streets? It seems the class contradictions brought about by the Industrial Revolution have begun to become apparent to the public.
Hessel had little appreciation for art, but he could tell the difference between it and Mary's paintings. It was like a living picture unfolding before your eyes, as if you could hear the weeping voices of the poor, and most importantly, it could bring emotional fluctuations to the viewer.
"It's a really good drawing, but it's a pity that there's no signature and we can't find the author." If we could ask the author to draw a warning picture of industrial pollution, it might have an unexpected public opinion effect.
Mary pointed to the small print at the bottom and said, "Look, Auntie, it says 'Anonymous drawing, reprinted in the Birmingham Morning Post.' Maybe we can go to the newspaper office and ask about it later."
Heather agreed that if she could find someone, it would be a pleasant surprise of the trip.
Beep...the whistle blew long, and Warwick arrived.
Warwick has the largest transit terminal on the coast, with convenient transportation and a county guard responsible for night patrols. Therefore, although there is a large flow of people, the public security is good and the economy is prosperous.
They did not stay on the boat tonight, but chose the most upscale "Swan and Crown" hotel nearby. It was a place specially for nobles to rest, and it was very convenient for washing, changing clothes and enjoying hot meals.
Mary was so tired that she didn't even want to eat dinner. She just wanted to go to bed as soon as possible. Even if the barge was stable, she would feel dizzy if she kept staring at the drawing board. She swore that she would never do the same thing again when she was on a boat.
Heather watched her lie down on the bed, told Lena to come back to accompany her after eating, and then confirmed that the place was safe enough before she felt relieved and walked out of the bedroom.
I closed the door, walked down the red-carpeted corridor, and turned the corner to see Lancaster.
He leaned his head against the railing of the stairs leading to the hall. He had changed into more casual clothes, a simple white shirt with two buttons open at the collar, and a plain black windbreaker on the outside. Just looking at his figure and posture, he looked like a cynical young man.
The women passing by cast vague glances at him, and some were so bold as to approach him and start a conversation. He was completely ungentlemanly and didn't say a word in reply, which further aroused the girls' desire to challenge him.
Heather moved down slowly, thinking that this person was really popular. It turned out that everyone only looked at appearance.
Before she could move, Lancaster seemed to notice something and looked up. For a moment, the sound of secretive inhalations could be heard all around.
She half wanted to pretend she didn't know him and just go downstairs.
As a result, Lancaster actually reached out his hand to her. Heather looked at him innocently. Could she be so carefree after leaving London?
He didn't stop, and everyone looked at him intently. Heather was defeated and handed over her hand, which was pulled over and placed in her arm.
She held him and whispered, "Isn't this inappropriate?"
Lancaster pretended not to know. "There's an authentic Warwick pub near the dock. The pork pie and cheese toast there are delicious. There's also a special small auction on Sundays. It's more interesting than the hotel. There are a lot of people outside. Be careful not to get lost and be kidnapped to America."
Heather was speechless. Was she some five-year-old? But she was indeed very interested in the auction.
"But don't we take a carriage?" For some reason, they always felt that many people were looking at them when they walked on the street.
Lancaster glanced at the carriage parked beside the inn behind him and said, "The driver is unwell, but it's not far and we can walk there quickly." He tightened his arm, motioned her to come closer, and advised her, "It's best not to look to the side too often, otherwise people will think we have an improper relationship."
Heather glared at him. This man showed his true colors as soon as he left London.
Her cheeks were flushed, and her big, watery eyes swept over him, seemingly angry but not angry, just making people feel close. Lancaster didn't dare to look again, and warned himself to look straight ahead and concentrate on finding the way.
The pub wasn't far away, and by the time they got there, Heather had gotten used to holding someone's arm. The pier was bustling with people, and from the pub's windows, one could see the entire pier at dusk. There was one empty table right by the window, and she excitedly grabbed his arm and walked over.
Lancaster let her pull him along, but paused when he saw the guests dining quietly alone at the next table.
Heather sat down and tugged at his sleeve: "What delicious food did you just mention?"
Lancaster withdrew his gaze and sat down, following her force. This kind of tavern didn't have a menu, so he patiently recommended dishes to her from memory, then called the waiter to take the order.
The dishes were served quickly. Heather savored them carefully. Although the taste was not excellent, it was very down-to-earth. Coupled with the sunset river view and the busy people, there was a sense of stability and peace.
Before we finished eating, the auction began, or rather, this informal auction was open at any time, and almost anyone could come and bid. The items were said to be unique and difficult to obtain, so if there were multiple interested buyers, bidding would be required.
However, Heather doubted that anyone would really drive up the prices of these things. For example, the fragrance in front of her that could make people dream of their loved ones, and the wishing ring. The seller had turned the tray around three times but no one bid, yet the atmosphere was lively.
Lancaster explained, "There are many cargo ships coming and going here, and the most popular products are imported goods from overseas. More than ten years ago, I bought a bottle of Indian mosquito repellent cream here, and it worked quite well."
Heather claimed no one would buy such clutter, but she ultimately became the biggest spender, with items like Italian brass birds, Dutch wool coasters, and a collection of Spanish fairy tales filling half the table. One of the vendors cleared out a significant amount of inventory, grinning profusely and generously giving her a woven bag. He also kept praising Lancaster, who had paid, as a thoughtful and good husband.
Lancaster silently increased the tip, with no thought of clarifying.
The guest at the next table turned his head, glanced at him, raised his glass and signaled the waiter to bring another bottle of wine.
As night fell, the atmosphere in the pub became more and more lively. Several people who had not spent a penny squeezed in, either to drink from their acquaintances, or to stand in the corner and join in the conversation.
The old man came in when a sailor was bragging about his story of exploring America with the ship.
His sharp eyes swept across every corner, and he quickly rushed forward and grabbed a man who was about to jump out of the window and escape.
"Stop right there, you liar!" the old man said, his hands strong despite his short stature. "I spent a month's worth of my family's grocery money to buy Jamaican golden sugarcane seeds from you. Do you remember? But after I planted them, all I got were bloated radishes that were bitter and not sweet at all. You liar, you need to give me an explanation today!"
The man was no longer afraid of being caught, and spread his hands with a scoundrel look on his face: "Old man, it's you who doesn't know how to grow it. I told you to be careful with this precious thing."
The old man gritted his teeth in anger and said, "Impossible! I asked someone and they said sugarcane doesn't look like this at all. You are a black-hearted person, you are trying to trick me!"
Some people in the tavern sympathized with him, but the majority were unscrupulous. Amidst the roar of laughter, someone called out to him, "Thomas, it's good to get even 10% of the genuine goods at auction here. And they're from Jamaica. Most of them were bought from neighboring Hocken County. It's not your first day at the docks!"
Heather was stunned. Oh my god, what about the things she bought from Italy, the Netherlands and Spain... That was also expected.
The old man loosened his grip, holding the empty bag of seeds. He stared at the man in front of him with his eagle-like eyes. "My son came back from the battlefield with a broken leg. My family relies on the crops from the fields for a living. If you don't give me the money today, I will fight you to the death!"
The man was a little scared again and stammered, "Old man, although this stuff may not be from Jamaica, I really bought it from a sailor who returned home. The cost is not cheap." He then said with confidence, "Anyway, I gave you sugarcane seeds. If someone doesn't know the value of it, I can't do anything about it!"
The old man knew that the man would not pay the money, so he threw the bag on the table next to him, took off his coat to reveal his strong muscles, and was about to rush up to beat him up.
"Wait a moment!"
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