Medical Life in the Navy Part 2

"But," said I, "I really must go home first."

"Oh dear no; don't think of such a thing."

"I'm deuced hungry," continued I. "My dear sir, excuse me, but it is just our dinner hour; nice roast turkey, and boiled leg of mutton with--"

"Any pickled pork?"

"He! he! now you young _officers_ will have your jokes; but, he! he!

though we don't just eat pork, you'll find us just as good as most Christians. Some capital wine--very old brand; father got it from the Cape only the other day; in fact, though I should not mention these things, it was sent us by a grateful customer. But come, you're hungry, we'll get a cab."

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE CITY OF ENCHANTMENT. IN JOINING THE SERVICE! FIND OUT WHAT A "GIG"

MEANS.

The fortnight immediately subsequent to my pa.s.sing into the Royal Navy was spent by me in the great metropolis, in a perfect maze of pleasure and excitement. For the first time for years I knew what it was to be free from care and trouble, independent, and quietly happy. I went the round of the sights and the round of the theatres, and lingered entranced in the opera; but I went all alone, and unaccompanied, save by a small pocket guide-book, and I believe I enjoyed it all the more on that account. No one cared for nor looked at the lonely stranger, and he at no one. I roamed through the s.p.a.cious streets, strolled delightedly in the handsome parks, lounged in picture galleries, or buried myself for hour's in the solemn halls and cla.s.sical courts of that prince of public buildings the British Museum; and, when tired of rambling, I dined by myself in a quiet hotel. Every sight was strange to me, every sound was new; it was as if some good fairy, by a touch of her magic wand, had transported me to an enchanted city; and when I closed my eyes at night, or even shut them by day, behold, there was the same moving panorama that I might gaze on till tired or asleep.

But all this was too good to last long. One morning, on coming down to breakfast, bright-hearted and beaming as ever, I found on my plate, instead of fried soles, a long blue official letter, "On her Majesty's Service." It was my appointment to the 'Victory,'--"additional for service at Haslar Hospital." As soon as I read it the enchantment was dissolved, the spell was broken; and when I tried that day to find new pleasures, new sources of amus.e.m.e.nt, I utterly failed, and found with disgust that it was but a common work-a-day world after all, and that London was very like other places in that respect. I lingered but a few more days in town, and then hastened by train to Portsmouth to take up my appointment--to join the service in reality.

It was a cold raw morning, with a grey and cheerless sky, and a biting south-wester blowing up channel, and ruffling the water in the Solent.

Alongside of the pier the boats and wherries were all in motion, scratching and otherwise damaging their gunwales against the stones, as they were lifted up and down at the pleasure of the wavelets. The boatmen themselves were either drinking beer at adjacent bars, or stamping up and down the quay with the hopes of enticing a little warmth to their half-frozen toes, and rubbing the ends of their noses for a like purpose. Suddenly there arose a great commotion among them, and they all rushed off to surround a gentleman in brand-new naval uniform, who was looking, with his mouth open, for a boat, in every place where a boat was most unlikely to be. Knowing at a glance that he was a stranger, they very generously, each and all of them, offered their services, and wanted to row him somewhere--anywhere. After a great deal of fighting and scrambling among themselves, during which the officer got tugged here and tugged there a good many times, he was at last bundled into a very dirty cobble, into which a rough-looking boatman bounded after him and at once shoved off.

The naval officer was myself--the reader's obsequious slave. As for the boatman, one thing must be said in his favour, he seemed to be a person of religious character--in one thing at least, for, on the Day of Judgment, I, for one, will not be able to turn round and say to him "I was a stranger and ye took me not in," for he did take me in. In fact, Portsmouth, as a town, is rather particular on this point of Christianity: they do take strangers in.

"Where away to?" asked the jolly waterman, leaning a moment on his oars.

"H.M.S. 'Victory,'" replied I.

"Be going for to join, I dessay, sir?"

"You are right," said I; "but have the goodness to pull so that I may not be wet through on both sides."

"Can't help the weather, sir."

"I'll pay here," said I, "before we go alongside."

"Very good, sir."

"How much?"

"Only three s.h.i.+llings, sir."

"_Only_ three s.h.i.+llings!" I repeated, and added "eh?"

"That's all, sir--distance is short you know."

"Do you mean to say," said I, "that you really mean to charge--"

"Just three bob," interrupting me; "flag's up--can see for yourself, sir."

"The flag, you see--I mean my good man--don't tell me about a flag, I'm too far north for you;" and I tried to look as northish as possible.

"Flag, indeed! humph!"

"Why, sir," said the man of oars, with a pitying expression of countenance and voice, "flag means double fare--anybody'll tell you that, sir."

"Nonsense?" said I; "don't tell me that any one takes the trouble of hoisting a flag in order to fill your confounded pockets; there is half a crown, and not a penny more do you get from me."

"Well, sir, o' condition you has me again, sir, you know, sir,--and my name's McDonald;" and he pocketed the money, which I afterwards discovered was a _leetle_ too much. "McDonald," thought I--"my grandmother's name; the rascal thinks to come round me by calling himself a Scotchman--the idea of a McDonald being a waterman!"

"Sir," said I, aloud, "it is my unbia.s.sed opinion and firm conviction that you are--" I was going to add "a most unmitigated blackguard," but I noticed that he was a man of six feet two, with breadth in proportion, so I left the sentence unfinished.

We were now within sight of the bristling sides of the old 'Victory,' on the quarter-deck of which fell the great and gallant Nelson in the hour of battle and triumph; and I was a young officer about to join that service which can boast of so many brave and n.o.ble men, and brave and n.o.ble deeds; and one would naturally expect that I would indulge in a few dreams of chivalry and romance, picture to myself a bright and glorious future, pounds' weight of medals and crosses, including the Victoria, kiss the hilt of my sword, and all that sort of thing. I did not. I was too wretchedly cold for one reason, and the only feeling I had was one of shyness; as for duty, I knew I could and would do that, as most of my countrymen had done before me; so I left castle-building to the younger sons of n.o.blemen or gentry, whose parents can afford to allow them two or three hundred pounds a year to eke out their pay and smooth the difficulties of the service. Not having been fortunate enough to be born with even a horn spoon in my mouth, I had to be content with my education as my fortune, and my navy pay as my only income.

"Stabird side, I dessay, sir?" said the waterman.

"Certainly," said I, having a glimmering idea that it must be the proper side.

A few minutes after--"The Admiral's gig is going there, sir,--better wait a bit." I looked on sh.o.r.e and _did_ see a gig, and two horses attached to it.

"No," said I, "decidedly not, he can't see us here, man. I suppose you want to go sticking your dirty wet oars in the air, do you?"--(I had seen pictures of this performance). "Drive on, I mean pull ahead, my hearty"--a phrase I had heard at the theatre, and considered highly nautical.

The waterman obeyed, and here is what came of it. We were just approaching the ladder, when I suddenly became sensible of a rus.h.i.+ng noise. I have a dim recollection of seeing a long, many-oared boat, carrying a large red flag, and with an old grey-haired officer sitting astern; of hearing a voice--it might have belonged to the old man of the sea, for anything I could have told to the contrary--float down the wind,--

"Clear the way with that (something) b.u.mboat!" Then came a crash, my heels flew up--I had been sitting on the gunwale--and overboard I went with a splash, just as some one else in the long boat sang out. "Way enough!"

Way enough, indeed! there was a little too much way for me. When I came to the surface of the water, I found myself several yards from the ladder, and at once struck out for it. There was a great deal of noise and shouting, and a sailor held towards me the sharp end of a boathook; but I had no intention of being lugged out as if I were a pair of canvas trowsers, and, calling to the sailor to keep his pole to himself--did he want to knock my eye out?--I swam to the ladder and ascended. Thus then I joined the service, and, having entered at the foot of the ladder, I trust some day to find myself at the top of it.

And, talking of joining the service, I here beg to repudiate, as an utter fabrication, the anecdote--generally received as authentic in the service--of the Scotch doctor, who, going to report himself for the first time on board of the 'Victory,' knocked at the door, and inquired (at a marine, I think), "Is this the Royal Nauvy?--'cause I'm come till jine." The story bears "fib" on the face of it, for there is not a Scottish schoolboy but knows that one s.h.i.+p does not make a navy, any more than one swallow does a summer.

But, dear intending candidate, if you wish to do the right thing, array yourself quietly in frock-coat, cap--not c.o.c.ked hat, remember--and sword, and go on board your s.h.i.+p in any boat you please, only keep out of the way of gigs. When you arrive on board, don't be expecting to see the admiral, because you'll be disappointed; but ask a sailor or marine to point you out the mids.h.i.+pman of the watch, and request the latter to show you the commander. Make this request civilly, mind you; do not pull his ear, because, if big and hirsute, he might beat you, which would be a bad beginning. When you meet the commander, don't rush up and shake him by the hand, and begin talking about the weather; walk respectfully up to him, and lift your cap as you would to a lady; upon which he will hurriedly point to his nose with his forefinger, by way of returning the salute, while at the same time you say--

"_Come_ on board, sir--to _join_, sir."

It is the custom of the Service to make this remark in a firm, bold, decided tone, placing the emphasis on the "_come_" to show clearly that you _did come_, and that no one kicked, or dragged, or otherwise brought you on board against your will. The proper intonation of the remark may be learned from any polite waiter at a hotel, when he tells you, "Dinner's ready, sir, please;" or it may be heard in the "Now then, gents," of the railway guard of the period.

Having reported yourself to the man of three stripes, you must not expect that he will shake hands, or embrace you, ask you on sh.o.r.e to tea, and introduce you to his wife. No, if he is good-natured, and has not had a difference of opinion with the captain lately, he _may_ condescend to show you your cabin and introduce you to your messmates; but if he is out of temper, he will merely ask your name, and, on your telling him, remark, "Humph!" then call the most minute mids.h.i.+pman to conduct you to your cabin, being at the same time almost certain to misp.r.o.nounce your name. Say your name is Struthers, he will call you Stutters.

"Here, Mr Pigmy, conduct Mr Stutters to his cabin, and show him where the gunroom--ah! I beg his pardon, the wardroom--lies."

"Ay, ay, sir," says the middy, and skips off at a round trot, obliging you either to adopt the same ungraceful mode of progression, or lose sight of him altogether, and have to wander about, feeling very much from home, until some officer pa.s.sing takes pity on you and leads you to the wardroom.

CHAPTER FIVE.

HASLAR HOSPITAL. THE MEDICAL MESS. DR GRUFF.

It is a way they have in the service, or rather it is the custom of the present Director-General, not to appoint the newly-entered medical officer at once to a sea-going s.h.i.+p, but instead to one or other of the naval hospitals for a few weeks or even months, in order that he may be put up to the ropes, as the saying is, or duly initiated into the mysteries of service and routine of duty. This is certainly a good idea, although it is a question whether it would not be better to adopt the plan they have at Netley, and thus put the navy and army on the same footing.

Haslar Hospital at Portsmouth is a great rambling barrack-looking block of brick building, with a yard or square surrounded by high walls in front, and with two wings extending from behind, which, with the chapel between, form another and smaller square.