We’ve spent our youth facing savages, cannibals, disease, and the ravaging elements of nature. Have we not, I ask you, Captain?” “Indeed, you have, sir. Like my friend Acton, I am certain you have spent a life of service and distinction.” Edward cast a glance at the closed door where Archibald Acton had been interviewing Sophy for nearly two hours. “Exactly,” the old man said, running his hands in obvious frustration through his white hair, which seemed to have a life of its own, each truculent strand standing out in every direction. The man was eighty, if he was a day, but he certainly was not lacking in either energy or passion. “And then we come home with a simple hope of finding a place, not to rest our weary bones, sir, but rather to discuss and record for posterity the astounding discoveries we have made. Is this too much to ask?” “Hardly.” Edward softly drummed the carved arms of his chair. “But instead, what do we find? We are reduced to mere beggars. Here in the capital of the world we must borrow space from the botanists, for heaven’s sake.”
