A Singularly Unpleasant Creature: Let's Read Flashman!

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Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Beefeater1980 posted:

Oh hell yes, this is great.

As long as you're theoretically back, could you edit the OP to link to different book recaps?

# ? Mar 12, 2023 15:24

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# ? Apr 20, 2024 01:08

Beefeater1980: Sep 12, 2008; My God, it's full of Horatios!

Xander77 posted:

As long as you're theoretically back, could you edit the OP to link to different book recaps?

That�s a good idea, sure.

E:done

Beefeater1980 fucked around with this message at 14:56 on Mar 15, 2023

# ? Mar 12, 2023 22:19

Beefeater1980: Sep 12, 2008; My God, it's full of Horatios!

Harry�s got no morals himself, of course - but he is aware that in theory, other people do, and he has a very good instinct for when something�s a bit off.

Flashman posted:

�Purely out of curiosity, I asked didn�t he have moral qualms? She twitched her tits in impatience.�

Classy, Hal. Very classy. Anyway, she explains that the Chinese like opium and have been smoking it for ages, so it�s all OK with God, you see, but the problem is that Josiah can�t sell the stuff. Harry suggests Jardine�s (hah!) and has a couple of nice asides where he points out this delicate English rose makes for a surprisingly knowledgeable drug queen, but eventually allows himself to be persuaded, because, well, she�s offering ten percent and benefits in kind.

Flashman posted:

Here was I, friendly disposed, officer and gentleman, knew the ropes, spoke the lingo (well, I could understand a Mandarin, and make myself enough understood in turn; with the coolies I had to use pigeon and my boots), and just the chap to stare down any yellow office-wallahs. A week till my ship sailed, ample time�sixteen hundred�Mrs Carpenter swooning with gratitude�h�m�

And so, trailing merrily off behind his member, off goes Harry. For once he doesn�t actually get his leg over; that�s supposed to happens when he gets back.

Incidentally, �Pigeon� (actually �pidgin�) languages are amazing and deserve an effortpost of their own; my observation of the Chinese/English trade argot that you see in contemporary books (example: �look-see�) is that it sounds like English vocab overlaid on Chinese grammar.

It�s been mentioned before that Fraser gets a bit less satirical and a bit more patriotic as the series goes on.

Flashman posted:

I don�t know who ran the first chest of opium into China, but he was a great man in his way.

Nah, can�t be.

This is just setup, though, for the next sentence:

quote:

It was as though some imaginary trader had put into the Forth with a cargo of Glenlivet to discover that the Scots had never heard of whisky.

Beefeater1980 fucked around with this message at 14:56 on Mar 15, 2023

# ? Mar 14, 2023 14:02

Beefeater1980: Sep 12, 2008; My God, it's full of Horatios!

Fraser gives a little primer on the opium war, although it�s aged worse than a lot of these books.

Flashman posted:

I don�t know who ran the first chest of opium into China, but he was a great man in his way. It was as though some imaginary trader had put into the Forth with a cargo of Glenlivet to discover that the Scots had never heard of whisky. There was a natural appetite, as you may say. And while the C�� had been puffing themselves half-witted long before the first foreign trader put his nose into the Pearl River, there�s no doubt that our own John Company had developed their taste for the drug, back in the earlies, and before long they couldn�t get enough of it.

His subsequent explanation is long on stereotypes and highly exculpatory towards the British: the first opium war breaks out because the Manchu were �high handed� towards foreigners; the second because they hadn�t learned their lesson yet. The perceived arrogance of the Chinese toward foreigners was a frequent enough trope at the time that Fraser feels the need to explain it:

Flashman posted:

You have to understand this Chinese pride � they truly believe they have dominion over us, and that our rulers are mere slaves to their Emperor. Haven�t I heard a red-button Mandarin, a greasy old profligate so damned cultivated that his concubines had to feed him and even carry him to the commode to do his business, because he�d never learned how � haven�t I heard him lisping about �the barbarian vassal Victoria�? As for the American President � a mere coolie. (And you won�t teach John Chinaman different by blowing his cities apart with artillery, or trampling his country underfoot. Well, if a footpad knocks you down, or a cannibal eats you, it don�t follow that he�s your superior, does it? Fiercer and stronger, perhaps, but infinitely lower in the scale of creation. That�s how the Chinese think of us � and drat the facts that stare �em in the face.)

Back in Britain the opposition uses this to attack the government and demand they back down; the Prime Minister, Viscount Palmerston, is having none of it and calls a general election, which he wins - and, with this mandate, launches the Second Opium War in earnest. Any politics wonks might enjoy the speeches in Parliament, because they have the two great heavyweights Gladstone and Palmerston both going at it great guns - the first one starts here. Gladstone takes the position that we would mostly take now, which is that this is drug smuggling on a massive scale and going to lead to enormous misery; Palmerston waves the flag, flings erudite insults and constantly harps on the theme that the Chinese in general and the governor of Canton in particular look down on the British and attack in treacherous ways (he mentions two cases of murders of Europeans by Chinese in Hong Kong) and that�s what this is really all about. It�s a masterpiece in bad-faith arguing.

I was speculating earlier when exactly this was all happening as I suspected Fraser of playing fast and loose with dates, but he actually helpfully lays it all out: it�s spring 1860 and an Anglo-French Expeditionary Force is preparing to march north to Beijing to present the Qing court with its new treaty. And like a digest�f after a heavy dinner, Fraser follows up his lecture with another of his wonderful sketches.

Flashman posted:

Which brings me back to the point where I agreed to escort their cargo of poppy up the Pearl, with the prospect of a jolly river cruise, sixteen hundred sovs, and a fine frolic with dear Phoebe when I got back to Hong Kong. Mind you, as I leaned on the rail of the lead lorcha bearing up beyond Lintin Island two days after our picnic, with the rising sun rolling the fog-banks up the great estuary, I could honestly say it wasn�t either the cash or the lady that had made me turn opium-runner. No, it was the fun of the thing, the lure of sport-without-danger, the seeking for fresh sights and amusements, like this magnificent Pearl River, with that wondrous silver mist that I suppose gave it its name, and its fairy islets beyond the Tiger�s Gate, and the dawn breeze rippling the shining water and filling the sails of the stubby junks and lorchas and crazy fisher-craft � and the pug-nosed, grinning Hong Kong boat girl rolling her poonts on the thwart of a sampan and shouting: �Hi-ya, cap�n! Hi-ya! You wanchee jiggee no wanchee jiggee? You payee two hunner� cash, drinkee samshu? Jollee-jollee!�

�Who you, Dragon Empress?� says I. �Come aboard, one hunner� cash, maybe all-same samshu.� They�re the jolliest wenches, the Hong Kong boaters, plump little sluts who swim like fish and couple like stoats. She squealed with laughter and plunged in, reached the lorcha in a few fast strokes, and was hauled inboard, all wet and shiny and giggling in her little loin-cloth. Anything less like an angel of Providence you never saw, but that�s what she was; if I�d guessed, I�d ha� treated her with more respect than I did, slapping her rump and sending her aft for later. For the moment I was content to muse at the rail, enjoying the warm sunshine and the distant green prospect of Lintin, where the coolies could be seen languidly pursuing the only two occupations known to the Chinese peasant: to wit, standing stock-still up to the knees in paddy-water holding a bullock on a rope, or shifting mud very slowly from one point to another. Deny them these employments, and they would simply lie down and die, which a good many of them seemed to do anyway. I�m told that Napoleon once said that China was a sleeping giant, and when she awoke the world would be sorry. He didn�t say who was going to get the bastards out of bed.

You still get sampans in the harbour, although the sin trade is mostly confined to Kowloon these days, where sketchy Karaoke and hostess bars cater to an audience mainly composed of mainland businessmen.

The ship, it turns out, is captained by a young American, Frederick Ward, an adventurous type with a lot of time for the Chinese in general and the Taiping rebels in particular.

Frederick T. Ward posted:

�Look at the Taipings, if you like!� cries he. �That�s the new China, mark my words! They�ll stand this whole country on its head, �fore they�re through, see if they don�t!� He took a big breath, smoothing his long black hair with both hands in an odd nervous gesture; his eyes were shining with excitement. �The new China! Boy, I�m going to get me a section of that, though! Know what, colonel? � after this trip, I might just take myself a long slant up the Yangtse and join up with �em. Tai�ping tieng-kwow, eh? The Kingdom of Heavenly Peace � but can�t they fight some? I guess so � and you may be sure they�re on the look-out for mercenaries � why, a go-ahead white man could go right to the top among �em, maybe make Prince even, with a button on his hat!� He laughed and slapped his fist, full of ginger. �You�re crazy,� says I, �but since they are too, you�ll fit right in, I dare say.� �Fred T. Ward fits in anywhere, mister!� cries he, and then he was away along the deck again, chivvying the boatmen to trim the great mainsail, yelling his bastard pigeon and laughing as he tailed on to the rope.

Ward is a very interesting character, and we�ll be seeing more of him later. Privately, Flashman dismisses Ward as a lunatic, but then goes on to describe the Taiping rebellion (there is an excellent link upthread that I�ll edit in later for those who want more on this.)

Flashman posted:

So there you are: a Manchoo government with an idiot Emperor who thought the world was square, fighting a lethargic war against rebels led by a lunatic, and preparing to resist a Franco-British invasion which wasn�t to be a war, exactly, but rather a great armed procession to escort our Ambassador to Pekin and persuade the C��- to keep their treaty obligations � which included legalising the opium traffic at that moment personified by H. Flashman and his band of yellow brothers. And in case you think I was incautious, heading up-river at such a time, take a squint at the map, and be aware that all the bloodshed and beastliness was a long way from Canton; you�d not have caught me near the place otherwise.

Thankfully for the story, he is dead wrong about his chances of getting involved in bloodshed!

# ? Mar 18, 2023 15:15

Genghis Cohen: Jun 29, 2013

Fascinating link to the speeches preceding the war in Parliament. You're right, looked at through a modern lens it's amazing how cartoonishly evil Palmerston's worldview was in this case. It's interesting to wonder how sincere his beliefs were.

# ? Mar 20, 2023 16:05

Beefeater1980: Sep 12, 2008; My God, it's full of Horatios!

While Ward is breathlessly extolling the virtues of China to Harry like a Goldman Sachs banker who�s been a week in Shanghai, let�s take a moment to look at the details of the trip. Flashman has been hired to oversee the transport of opium from Hong Kong to Guangzhou. These days to get to GZ you would cross the border at Shenzhen and then probably take the S3 up the coast, although if you had a cargo of narcotics you�d be looking at the death penalty so not really recommended. Flashy is travelling by river, so the Indiana Jones map would look something like this:

That�s about a one day trip by boat, so Harry can be forgiven for thinking it�s not that big of a deal. As usual, Fraser paints a compelling picture.

Flashman posted:

We were into the Bocca Tigris, where the estuary narrows to a broad river among islands, before I started to earn my corn. Out from Chuenpee Fort comes an Imperial patrol boat with some minor official riff-raff aboard, hollering to us to heave to; Ward cocked an eye at me, but I shook my head, and we swept past them without so much as �good day�; they clamoured in our wake for a while, beating gongs and waving wildly, but gave up when they saw we�d no intention of stopping.

The location is pretty important here, because when I first read this I had no idea how strategic the location was.

The Bocca Tigris (tiger gate) is a literal translation of the Chinese place name (Humen 虎门) into Portuguese, presumably because Macau is just around the corner and among Europeans they got here first. It�s a narrow strait: you�re not getting to Guangzhou without running the gauntlet of forts on both sides. Flashman�s boat is sailing upriver between two islands that were heavily, but unsuccessfully, fortified in the opium war (like most late Qing coastal fortifications in south China, they have the distinction of having been successfully seized in every war since they were built).

Sadly there is no 3 star hotel for our hero. The forts were long since demolished but apparently looked like this:

Here, Flashman finally has to do some work.

Flashman posted:

Ward, who�d been anxiously scanning the big forts on the high bluffs overlooking the channel, shook his head with relief and grinned at me. �Is it always so easy?� cries he, and I told him, not quite, we�d meet more determined inquiry farther on, but I would talk our way past. Sure enough, in late afternoon, when we were clearing Tiger Island, up popped a splendid galley, all gold and scarlet, with dragon banners and long ribbons fluttering from her upper works, her twenty oars going like clockwork as she steered to intercept us. She had three or four jingals in her bows, and fifty men on her deck if there was one; under a little canopy on her poop there was a Mandarin in full fig of button-hat and silk robe, seated in state � and flying a kite, with a little lad to help him with the string. Even the most elderly and dignified Chinese delight in kites, you know, and no city park is complete without a score of sober old buffers pottering about like contented Buddhas with their airy toys fluttering and swooping overhead. This was a fine bird-kite, a great silver stork so lifelike you expected it to spread its wings as it hovered hundreds of feet above us. To complete this idyllic scene, the galley carried on its bows a huge wooden cage, crammed with about twenty wretched coolies so close-packed they could hardly stir � criminals being carried to their place of punishment, probably. Their wailing carried across the water as the galley feathered her oars and an officer bawled across, demanding our business.

There is a brief yelling match between Flashman and the official on board, who demands they heave to for inspection (Flashman�s response is to speed up and yell over �Our licence is in order, your excellency, and we are in great haste, and must proceed to Canton without delay. So you can bugger off, see?�), which results in one of the most memorable scenes in a book that�s full of them:

Flashman posted:

I was half-expecting what came next. There was a barked order, and a dozen of the galley�s crew ran forward and seized on the wooden cage in which the criminals were packed like so many herring. On the order they heaved, sliding the cage until it was poised on the lip of the bow platform; her oars took the water again, keeping her level with us � and then they just looked across at us, and the officer repeated his demand to us to heave to.

I turned away and told Ward to keep her going. He was gaping, white-faced; the poor devils in the cage were squealing like things demented and struggling helplessly. �My God!� cries he. �Are they going to drown them?� �Undoubtedly,� says I. �Unless we heave to and allow ourselves to be boarded and plundered on some trumped-up excuse. In which case they�ll certainly drown �em later, just the same. But they�re hoping we don�t know that � and that being soft-hearted foreign devils we�ll spill our wind and come to. It�s a special kind of Chinese blackmail, you see. So just hold your course and pay �em no heed.� He gulped, once, but he was a cool hand; he turned his back as I had done, and yelled to the helmsman to hold her steady. There was dead silence on our deck; only the creaking of the timbers and the swish of water along our side. Another yell to heave to from the galley�silence�a shrieked order�an awful, heart-rending chorus of wails and screams, and an almighty splash.

�Fine people, with a prime country, as you were saying,� says I, and strolled over to the rail again.

# ? Mar 26, 2023 16:20

Beefeater1980: Sep 12, 2008; My God, it's full of Horatios!

Is Fraser making this up? The Qing dynasty had some spectacularly lurid punishments, officials were permitted to impose them arbitrarily, and academics are fairly sure that some of the worst were imposed during this period , possibly because the whole country was falling apart and it was thought that they would maintain order.

Either way, a sobering concept as they continue downriver. Ward is outraged, but accepts that this is Flashman�s role: to keep on moving when a less sociopathic person would have stopped, meaning that their cargo would have been stolen. Harry muses that they will probably be intercepted again nearer Canton by a more senior official and it might be wise to give up a couple of chests of the opium in the interests of making it through, earning him a thoughtful look from Ward. Night is falling, though - presumably they set out late - and Ward offers to take watch aboard the second boat, leaving Harry to head back to his room and the waiting sampan girl for a night of enthusiastic if unsophisticated fun.

flashman posted:

She was back at first light, though, crawling in beside me and grunting as she rubbed her boobies across my face, which is better than an alarm clock any day. I laid hold, and was preparing to set about her when I realised that she was trembling violently, and the pretty pug face was working with a strange, ugly tic.

�What the devil�s the matter?� says I, still half-asleep, and she twitched and sniffed at me. �Wantee piecee pipe!� says she, whimpering. �Mass� gimme! Piecee pipe!� �Oh, lord!� says I. �Get one from the boatmen, can�t you?� She wanted her opium, and I could see she�d be no fun until she�d had it. But the boatmen hadn�t any, or wouldn�t give it, apparently, and she began to blubber and twitch worse than ever, sobbing �Piecee pipe!� and pulling the pipe from her loin-cloth and shoving it at me. I slapped her across the cabin, and she lay there crying and shivering; I�d have let her lie, but her first awakening of me had put me in the mood for a gallop, and it occurred to me that with a few puffs of black smoke inside her she might be stimulated to a more interesting performance than she�d given the previous night.

Ever the gentleman, Harry heads down to the cargo hold to liberate some of his employer�s property in the interests of a good tumble.

Flashman posted:

I pushed through the chick-screen to the long main hold which ran the full length of the lorcha under its flush deck. There were the chests, and while she twitched and whined at my elbow I rummaged for a handspike and stuck it under the nearest lid. She had her little lamp lit, and was holding out the skewer in a trembling paw � as I said before, she was a most unlikely-looking guardian angel.

I levered the lid up with a splintering of cheap timber, and pulled back the corner of the oilskin cover beneath. And then, as I recall, I said �Holy God!� and came all over thoughtful as I contemplated the contents of the chest. For if I hadn�t had Mrs Phoebe Carpenter�s word for it that those contents were high-grade prepared Patna opium, I�d have sworn that they were Sharps carbines. All neatly packed in grease, too.

Well, poo poo.

# ? Mar 26, 2023 16:32

Remulak: Jun 8, 2001; I can't count to four.; Yams Fan

Lol, Harry�s dick got him into this setup now it�s letting him know it�s a setup. Rather a mixed blessing overall, but if he was slightly less horny he would have been boned for sure. Now don�t think he�s being laid tonight but (ah man this gets complicated).

Lately I�ve been more and more noticing when writers do stuff like this it�s cool.

# ? Mar 27, 2023 08:00

Genghis Cohen: Jun 29, 2013

Really brings home to you what a bastard he is too. It's presented as relatively venal in the bigger scheme of his misdeeds - the girl approaches him and so forth - but realistically he collects an impoverished drug addict and takes her along on his business trip as, if not quite a sex slave, a completely powerless sex worker who he casually slaps around if she fails to perform as he likes. He doesn't even speak of her with any malice, but he doesn't have any regard for her at all as a human being, she's just an object to him. Quite chilling how cool he is about it.

# ? Mar 28, 2023 00:05

Beefeater1980: Sep 12, 2008; My God, it's full of Horatios!

Genghis Cohen posted:

Really brings home to you what a bastard he is too. It's presented as relatively venal in the bigger scheme of his misdeeds - the girl approaches him and so forth - but realistically he collects an impoverished drug addict and takes her along on his business trip as, if not quite a sex slave, a completely powerless sex worker who he casually slaps around if she fails to perform as he likes. He doesn't even speak of her with any malice, but he doesn't have any regard for her at all as a human being, she's just an object to him. Quite chilling how cool he is about it.

He�s a monster and he knows it; he just doesn�t care and does a good job of mitigating the consequences. Compared with other fictional sociopaths like, say, Joe Goldberg (You), he�s a lot more honest with himself.

# ? Mar 29, 2023 11:30

Colonel Cool: Dec 24, 2006

I imagine he's also benefitted a lot from having a lifetime to think about it too, considering he's ostensibly writing all these like 40-60 years later.

# ? Mar 29, 2023 13:43

Beefeater1980: Sep 12, 2008; My God, it's full of Horatios!

Flashman posted:

There was a time, in my callow youth, when the discovery that I was running not opium but guns would have had me bolting frantically for the nearest patch of timber, protesting that it was nothing to do with me, constable, and the chap in charge would be along in a moment. For opium, into China, was a commonplace if not entirely respectable commodity, whereas firearms, into anywhere, are usually highly contraband, and smuggling �em is as often as not a capital offence. But if twenty years of highly active service had taught me anything, it was that there is a time to flee in blind panic, and a time to stand fast and think.

Reflecting on all this from 20 years� distance, Harry ponders whether with a few more years of maturity he might have seen through the whole plan, I.E. that Ward and the Carpenters were Taiping sympathisers, and were running guns to the rebels to be used in their civil war (Were Carpenter and his wife sufficiently demented for that? Presumably; if you�re religious you can believe anything.) and come up with some kind of a plan. But as usual, he is caught in the moment and entirely occupied with reacting.

Flashman posted:

As it was, no leisure was afforded me; some of it went through my mind in a flash � the bit about Ward, for instance � but I hadn�t had time to slam the chest cover down when I felt the lorcha swing violently off course, her mainsail cracked like a cannon, there was a yelling and scampering of bare feet overhead, and I had flung the wench aside, dived into the cabin, grabbed my Adams from beneath my pillow, and was up the companion like a jack-rabbit.

No suggestion here of looking after his girl, of course (although he does spare a moment to consider slapping her for �staring wildly� at him while he�s in a blind panic). There follows another of Fraser�s signature set pieces.

Flashman posted:

I emerged just in time to duck beneath the main-sail boom as it came swinging ponderously overhead with a couple of boatmen clinging on, yelling bloody murder as they tried to secure it. The others were at the rail, pigtails flapping and chattering like monkeys, staring forward. By God, the second lorcha was now ahead, and there was Ward at her helm; we were close in by the east bank � it must be the east, for there was the sun gleaming dully through the morning mist, the first rays turning the waters to gold around us. But we were running south! My lorcha was just completing her turn; I spun round in bewilderment. Two of the boatmen had the tiller jammed over as far as it would go � and a furlong behind us, its oars going like the Cambridge crew as it raced down towards us, was a dandy little launch rowed by fellows in white shirts and straw hats, with a little chap in the sternsheets egging them on. And half a mile beyond that, emerging from a creek on the east bank, was an undoubted Navy sloop. She was flying the Union Jack.

Zounds! About to be caught red-handed! ~~I�d like to see ol� Flashy wiggle his way out of this~~ We�re all just waiting to see how exactly he wiggles his way out of this.

Flashman posted:

I acted on blind instinct, thank heaven; the launch was closing in, and there was only one thing for it.

�Ward, you toad!� I bellowed. �Take that!� And springing on to the rail to get a clear shot at him, I let blaze with the Adams. He sprang away from the tiller of the other lorcha, and I loosed off another shot which struck splinters from his rail; his boat yawed crazily, and in the crisis he behaved with admirable presence of mind: he was over her rail like a porpoise, taking the water clean and striking out like billyho for the bank, not a hundred yards off. I jumped down, roaring, and was about to send another ball after him when one of my helmsmen whipped out his kampilan and came at me, screaming like a banshee. I shot him point-blank, and the force of it flung him back against the rail, clutching his guts and pouring blood. Before his fellows could move I had my back to the rail, flourishing the Adams, and bawling to them to stand off or I�d blow �em to blazes. For an instant they hesitated, hands on hilts, the ugly yellow faces contorted with rage and fear; I banged a shot over their heads, and the whole half-dozen scampered across beside their wounded mate.
Behind me I heard a young voice, shrill with excitement, yelling �In oars! Follow me!�, the launch was bumping against our side, and here was a young snotty, waving a cutlass as big as himself, and half a dozen tars at his heels, jumping on to our deck.

�Come along, you fellows!� cries I heartily. �You�re just in time! Careful, now�these are desperate villains!� And I gave a final flourish of the Adams at the boatmen, who were crouched, half naked and looking as piratical as sin, beside their leaking comrade, before turning to greet the gaping midshipman.

�Flashman, colonel, army intelligence,� says I briskly, and held out my hand. He took it in bewilderment, goggling at me and at the boatmen. �Just have your lads watch out for those rascals, will you? They�re gun-runners, you know.�

Yep, that�s Flashman.

It�s a small skirmish compared to many of the battles Flashman finds himself in, but it�s brilliantly depicted. Perhaps because of his fascination with the moving image, Fraser paints a very visual, kinetic picture of what�s happening. You can almost see the camera panning away from the guns to the terrified girl to Flashman�s face as he absorbs what�s happening; then up for an overhead shot and then close ups of the chasing boat and eventually the Union Jack on the sloop. The substance of the deception is classic Flashman too; brazen it out and keep charging forward because it�s actually less scary than slowing down.

Flashman posted:

�My stars!� says he, and then gave a little start. �Flashman, did you say � sir?� He was a sturdy, snub-nosed young half-pint with a bulldog chin, and he was staring at me with disbelief. �Not�I mean � Colonel Flashman?�

Well, I don�t suppose there was a soul in England � not in the Services, leastways � who hadn�t heard of the gallant Flashy, and no doubt he was recognising me from the illustrations he�d seen in the press. I grinned at him.

�That�s right, youngster. Here, you�d best put some of your fellows aboard that other lorcha � why, blast it, the brute�s getting clear away!� And I pointed over the rail to the near shore, where the figure of Ward was floundering ashore in the shallows. Even as we watched he disappeared into the tall reeds, and I sighed with inward relief. That was the star witness safely out of the way. I damned him and turned away, laughing ruefully, and the snotty came out of his trance like a good �un�.As his tars jumped to it, the snotty turned back to me. �I don�t understand, sir. Gun-runners, did you say?�

Who is this young whippersnapper then?

Flashman posted:

�As ever was, my son. What�s your name?� �Fisher, sir,� says he. �Jack Fisher, midshipman.� �Come along, Jackie,� says I, clapping him on the shoulder like the cheery soul I was � no side, you see. �And I�ll show you the wickedness of the world.�

Oh, Fraser. Years ago I read a short piece of comic writing satirising a typical �Victoriana� story: a night at the opera where everyone from Gilbert & Sullivan to Palmerston to Conan Doyle to Lola Montez turns up, making fun of the tendency of writers to crowbar every known historical figure into the story; Assassin�s Creed does this same thing. I sometimes wonder if the original writer was thinking of Fraser.
Because this is of course John Fisher, 1st Baron Fisher, THE key figure in the British Navy up to and including WW1. These days he�s best known for the mantra that speed is armour, although it�s tempting to look at the battle of Jutland and conclude that no, actually armour was armour.

Flashman posted:

I took him below, and he gaped at the sight of the Hong Kong girl, who was crouched shivering and bare-titted. But he gaped even wider when I showed him the contents of the �opium� chests.
�My stars!� says he again. �What does it mean?�

�Guns for the Taiping rebels, my boy,� says I grimly. �You arrived just in time, you see. Another half-hour and I�d have had to tackle these scoundrels single-handed. Your captain got my message, I suppose?�

�I dunno, sir,� says he, owl-eyed. �We saw your lorchas, turning tail, and I was sent to investigate. We�d no notion��

As we know, he�s done this before, and Flashy duly remembers pulling the same trick in America. As he wryly notes, since I was from intelligence, no doubt there was some splendid mystery behind it, and explanations would follow. Quite.

The sloop�s commander is nearly as credulous (if I wasn�t from the UK myself, I�d be a lot more sceptical of how conveniently trusting these people are but that�s hierarchical societies for you):

Flashman posted:

�But�how came you to be aboard of them, sir?�

I looked him in the eye with just a touch of tight-lipped smile. �I think, commander,� says I, �that I�d best report direct to Mr Parkes at Canton. Least said, what? You received no message from him about�?� and I nodded at the lorchas. �Just so. Perhaps he was right. Well, I�ll be obliged if you�ll carry me to him as soon as may be. In the meantime,� I permitted myself a wry grin, �take good care of these Chinese villains, won�t you? I�ve been after �em too long to want to lose �em now. Oh, and by the way � that boy Fisher shapes well.�

Oh, Fraser!

I�ve been changing jobs so apologies for the long delay between updates; I have a little more free time now so will try to close the book out pronto.

Next episode: Flashman reports to HQ! A beautiful woman isn�t what she seems! On to Shanghai!

Beefeater1980 fucked around with this message at 08:52 on Apr 20, 2023

# ? Apr 20, 2023 08:49

Darth Walrus: Feb 13, 2012

That's definitely a demonstration of Flashman's evolution into a competent man of action (if still a deeply amoral one) - he showed off the quick thinking and martial prowess of any traditional Victorian hero there.

# ? Apr 20, 2023 11:42

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# ? Apr 20, 2024 01:08

Norwegian Rudo: May 9, 2013

Man, I miss Arbite...

# ? Jan 24, 2024 10:37

The Something Awful Forums > The Finer Arts > The Book Barn > A Singularly Unpleasant Creature: Let's Read Flashman!

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