Chapter 11: Meeting the Academics

The British Museum, London. September 17th 1832
I arrived at the British Museum a few minutes before ten of the clock, to be met by a lanky, spindle shanked fellow with a mop of unruly dark brown hair and a lugubrious demeanour.
He held out a dainty hand and introduced himself. “Welcome to the British Museum, Sir Elijah. I am Owen Lee-Joshin, Deputy Director of the museum.”
We mounted a wide flight of marble steps to an upper floor, where Lee-Joshin led me along a corridor and ushered me into a spacious, airy, room that was the office of the Director of the British Museum. Behind an impressively large mahogany desk, strewn with papers, sat a barrel of a man with a choleric expression on his face.
“May I introduce you to our Director, Doctor Rossiter Player,” Lee-Joshin said.
The director barely acknowledged me, other than his face got redder with suppressed anger.

I soon discovered the choleric expression he bore was his normal facial appearance, and that Rossiter Player was the sort of man who was always enraged; anything would set him off on a rant, and God help the poor innocent who incurred his wrath. He was a well-educated, intelligent person, who used his considerable vocabulary to demean and discomfort those he thought his inferiors, which was practically everybody he met.
Player glowered at me. “Damned if I know why our expedition has been saddled with another army man. One military man is one too many. What do you know of archaeology?”
My reply, ‘About as much as you know about courtesy and civility,’ was met with a ferocious scowl and an aggressive glare.
Lee-Joshin attempted to pour oil on troubled waters. “We must not forget that Sir Elijah has been especially selected to lead the expedition, Director.”
Player snorted in disdain, and then helped himself to a tumbler of brandy from a decanter near his elbow.
He did not offer a glass to me or to Mr. Lee-Joshin, but threw the drink back with the practised ease of a toper. Indeed, his raddled red face, and bloated, glowing nose indicated he had a distinct fondness for alcohol.

“The two other members of the expedition are expected to arrive at any moment, Sir Elijah,” Lee-Joshin said. He pointed to a chair near the window. “Perhaps you would like to sit there while we wait for them.”
“That damned Crudwright is never on time,” Player said, anger and petulance vying for prime position on his face. He then poured himself another tumbler of brandy.
“He is Professor Crudwright now, Rossiter.” Lee-Joshin reminded him.
“Professor my backside! He bought the position with a hefty donation to the so called university that granted him the Chair of Archaeology.”
“I agree that the University of Ormskirk is not the best known seat of academia in the realm, Rossiter...”
“Not best known is something of an understatement, Owen. Most people think Ormskirk University is situated in Russia!” Player said, and brayed with laughter.

Lee-Joshin gave a slight smile, and then got down to business.
He consulted the paper held in his hand before addressing me. “The expedition is due to leave Southampton on September the twenty third, aboard the East Indiaman Ganges. Cabins have been allocated, and you will be sharing with a Captain Guest...”
“I will be accompanied by my wife, Mister Lee-Joshin, and will be sharing my cabin with her.”
Lee-Joshin and Player stared at me in amazement.
“Your wife – a female?” the latter said.
“Yes, it is usual that one’s wife is a female, unless of course one is a Moll --.” I stopped abruptly. It struck me that these two could have a closer relationship than being merely work colleagues, and I did not seek to upset them.
“European females will find the Egyptian climate extremely challenging.” Lee-Joshin said.
“My wife is made of stern stuff, and will take all and every challenge in her stride.”
“No, no, no. It is completely out of the question.” Player thumped his desk with a meaty fist at every ‘no’. Inkpots and quills flew into the air, tumblers shivered and rattled together, even the decanter, which I noticed was now empty, slid dangerously close to the edge of the desk.
“In that case there is nothing more to discuss,” I said. “You can find someone else to lead your expedition. Good day to you.” I stood up from the chair and made my way to the door.

Player was so astonished at my response he gobbled like a turkey cock before finally finding his voice.
“I would remind you that as an officer in His Majesty’s army you must obey orders. You have been ordered to lead this expedition...”
“My resignation will be on the Commander-in-Chief’s desk at Horse Guards one hour after I leave this building,” I said, as I opened the door to the corridor. I paused, and turned to face Player, who sat fuming in his chair.
“I am prepared to resign my commission rather than travel to Egypt without my wife, have no doubt about that.”
Lee-Joshin sighed. “You have us at a disadvantage, Sir Elijah, and we will have to accede to your demands.”
“Over my dead body,” Player shouted.
I judged that to be a bonus.

Lee-Joshin fixed Player with a steely-eyed stare. “Come now, Rossiter, either Sir Elijah leads this expedition or it will not take place.” He opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. “We have spent years seeking permission from the authorities in Cairo to send an expedition to Egypt. All requests have been refused until the latest entreaty, made three months ago, to which we have received this reply.”
He handed me the paper he had taken from the desk drawer. The writing on the paper I took to be Arabic.
I frowned. “I cannot read this text.”
“There is a translation on the other side,” Lee-Joshin said.
I turned the paper over and read.