The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 593 - 299: Express Plus_2

Although this was not the best outcome, it was still much better than the revocation of medical practice and a complete loss of assets as mentioned by Rosenberg.

Having resolved this issue, Snow finally began to consider his own personal matters.

The reception room was quiet, with only the sound of Arthur’s pen scratching on paper.

After much deliberation, Snow suddenly took out a report from his pocket and placed it on the table.

"Mr. Hasting, I did not mean to disturb you, but could you please take a look at this when you have a moment?"

"What is this?" Arthur looked up at the document.

Snow stammered, "That... it’s a bit of personal research. Of course, I know that using the word ’research’ might be a bit of a stretch for a pharmacist’s apprentice, but I think the conclusions of the report could play a role in the prevention and treatment of cholera."

Arthur scanned the document quickly. It was less a document and more a map dotted with little red spots. Aside from the red-marked areas, which were slightly different from the ones on Arthur’s own map, the rest of the information was almost identical.

Arthur’s eyes gradually widened, and he asked Snow with a smile, "How did you come up with the idea to use this method? Did you also do city mapping work before?"

"I... I learned it from a medical journal," Snow said.

Snow spoke up bravely, "I once read in the ’London Medical Journal’ that Mr. Valentin Seaman from the United States had created a map of disease outbreaks to analyze the origins of the yellow fever epidemic in New York City in 1798.

The article wasn’t prominent, but the name ’New York’ caught my interest. I knew what old York in Britain looked like but had never seen what New York in the United States looked like."

"So, I carefully read through that article. So when the cholera outbreak occurred in Liverpool this year, I started to adopt Mr. Seaman’s method of analysis and, in my spare time assisting Mr. Haidskal, I visited local parish priests and asked for their permission to review the health conditions of parishioners."

Arthur briefly flipped through the statistical survey report bound with the map. Although Snow was just a common pharmacist’s apprentice, his report was far more professional and detailed than Arthur’s survey.

Although to true professionals and medical researchers, the report might still seem immature, it is the slight unprofessionalism within the professionalism that made it easier for laymen like Lord Brougham to understand.

Arthur collected the map and report, and promised Snow, "Mr. Snow, congratulations, your report will be submitted along with my letter to the chairman of our board of governors, and the highest overseer of the national healthcare domain—the High Chancellor of Britain, Lord Brougham. I believe he will be delighted to know that University of London is about to gain such a distinguished individual like yourself."

No sooner had Arthur finished speaking, Snow nearly spat his gin into the fireplace.

He covered his mouth, hardly believing what he had heard.

Just within the brief time of meeting Arthur, he had already received a promise to further his study at the university’s medical college and was about to catch the attention of the person holding the highest authority in Britain’s medical field.

This kind of good fortune was no longer describable as a pie falling from the sky; Snow felt as though gold was raining down, and all of it landing directly on his head.

Snow clutched his forehead, feeling the whole world spinning, and said, "Mr. Hasting, I apologize, I am not usually like this. It’s just that today, your words... ah, no, it’s this gin that is really intoxicating."

Arthur just smiled, stood up, and patted his shoulder, "Young man, this is just the beginning. The Yorkshire folk are born to do great things, a Yorkshire farm laborer’s son can become a pig keeper, a police inspector at Scotland Yard. So a Yorkshire miner’s son becoming a medical professor wouldn’t be too much. But you must remember that you are fortunate and have a bright future ahead, so don’t follow in your mentor’s footsteps; all you need to do is take it one step at a time."

Snow nodded vigorously, "Of course, Mr. Hasting, I’ll take your words to heart. But..."

He hesitated, then looking at the letter in Arthur’s hand, he asked, "Did you really not request the High Chancellor deal with Mr. Haidskal?"

Arthur merely smiled and shook his head, "Of course not. I merely made a request to him, hoping he would agree to temporarily detach Mr. Augustus de Morgan, who just joined the University of London this year as a professor in the mathematics department, and his students to the Central Health Committee to be responsible for the mathematical induction work."

"You discovered a possibility for the source of cholera through statistics, and I hope that the Central Health Committee can make good use of its resources, allowing local committees to do a good job with medical statistics. We need to know not only the number of cholera patients, the mortality rate, and the cure rate, but also whether the patients’ conditions are mild, moderate, or severe."

"Of course, what I want to know the most is what treatment methods the doctors used on their patients at different stages of the disease, and which treatment method is the most effective."

Having said that, Arthur opened the door to the reception room and handed the letter to the guard waiting outside.

"Tell the postmaster Edward that this letter must be on the desk in the Lord Chancellor’s office before the sun rises tomorrow."

...

The night was vast, and the waters outside the port of Liverpool were dotted with fishing fires.

Rolling white waves crashed against fishing boats laden with catches.

The boats bobbed up and down, making the crew members on deck sway as well, as if they were butterflies dancing.

The captain, with a partially paralyzed face, held onto his hat and walked out of the cabin with one side of his mouth pulled.

He raised a monocular brass telescope and surveyed the pitch-black sea, while shouting orders to the sailors, "Lads! Be on your sharpest alert! An owl has flown into Liverpool recently, and with it, the Royal Navy’s slackers have also started to adopt its habit of hiding by day and emerging by night. Running ships isn’t as easy and carefree as before; one slip and you could end up in jail toiling away."

While the sailors adjusted the sails, one of them asked, "Boss, I heard that a few days ago the Royal Navy’s coastal patrol fired a shot offshore and blew a hole in Henderson’s ship, is that true?"

"Even worse, Russell and his lot seem to have hit a huge misfortune. They set out from the Isle of Man recently, and just as they were passing Cornwall, they ran into the ’Black Jester,’ returning from the Ivory Coast. You have to say those guys coming back from West Africa are ruthless. They don’t even fire a shot, they just chase you down with their speed. Once they get close, they board your ship, giving you no chance to escape. Russell and his crew put up resistance for a short while before giving up both cargo and ship."

"Boss, we won’t end up in trouble on this trip too, will we?"

The captain put down his telescope and glared fiercely at them, "Bullshit! What business are Henderson and Russell in? And what business am I in? Henderson and Russell’s backers are just a few importers and the Customs, at most some connections with City Hall. But behind me directly stands the Royal Navy, each sticking to their own business. Colonel Jefferson of the Royal Navy told me, this route is safe today. As long as we reach shore before the sunrise, there will be no problems."

No sooner had the captain finished speaking than several lights suddenly flared on the misty sea surface.

The smugglers were temporarily blinded by the dazzling light.

Soon after, they heard the shouting of orders from the sea ahead.

"Colonel Jefferson, the target ship has been spotted ahead, and the enemy has reached an effective shooting range of three hundred yards!"

Beneath the lights, an arm swung down fiercely, "On my command, ramming charge!"

Boom! Boom! fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

Clouds of smoke rose from the sea surface.

Behind the gunfire, one could only faintly hear a heart-wrenching curse.

"Jefferson, you treacherous scoundrel! Black on black? You’re playing dirty with me?!"