Chapter 5
University of Sydney 1901
Deo Patriae Tibi
'I can't believe they got away with only a reprimand,' Arthur commented as he read aloud a story from the Sydney newspaper about the prank at Fort Denison the year before.
'What do you mean you can't believe it?' questioned Harry with a mischievous grin appearing upon his face, in recollection of the event and a contemptible wish that he had been the one who had caused such a stir within the growing community of Sydney.
A cool breeze sneaked through the window of the second floor room at St Paul's College. Muffled sounds of undergraduate gentleman on their way to classes at the main university buildings could be heard; it was a little before ten o'clock in morning. In front of both young men was a hearty, half eaten breakfast of sausages covered in the most pungent smelling onion sauce, along with too many slices of fried potato, a generous helping of boiled cabbage and a double serving of toast; all being accompanied by a selection of condiments.
Arthur continued his assessment of the report while looking somewhat perplexed at Harry's ridiculous lingering grin, 'According to this article five shipmen from the visiting ship, 'Medic', led by the Fourth Office, a fellow by the name of Mr Charles Lightoller, rowed out in the early hours of the morning to the island of Fort Denison. There they hoisted the Boer flag of South Africa and set off an explosion that lit up the night sky, shaking the ground violently, smashing windows and waking almost everybody bar the dead...' he smiled before adding, 'and even some of them may have been disturbed.'
'Arh, I remember it well, my dear fellow,' said Harry joining Arthur in his amusement at the thought of a commotion at the cemetery. 'I say really, Arthur, I had spent the most boring day of my life with Isaac at some theatrical club event for the college. As if that was not enough, we had then been roaming the city in search of some fun when suddenly, Isaac decided it was time to retire for the evening... at eighty-thirty. A most disagreeable fellow and I do not understand how you put up with him constantly quoting all that Shakespeare rubbish.'
Placing the newspaper to one side and taking a sip of tea, Arthur immediately replaced the china cup onto its matching saucer, hurriedly heaped a generous teaspoon full of sugar from the sliver plated sugar bowl and then clumsily plunked it into the cup. During the effort he spilled half of it onto the white tablecloth while managing to splash warm tea over the sides. With his left hand he began to brush the wayward grains methodically toward the edge of the oval plate. His preoccupation with cleaning up his mess warranted a strange glance from his breakfast companion who had seen it all before on many occasions. However, his condescending observance did not worry Arthur, as this systematic approach to ignoring what Harry had to say about Isaac appeared to work every time.
