Medical Life in the Navy by Gordon Stables (the dot read aloud .txt) 📕

blanket-suits, and covered with a boat-sail, we could defy the dew.

Sleep, or rather the want of sleep, we seldom had to complain of, for

the blue star-lit sky above us, the gentle rising and falling of the

anchored boat, the lip-lipping of the water, and the sighing sound of

the wind through the great forest near us--all tended to woo us to

sweetest slumber.

Sometimes we would make long excursions up the rivers of Africa,

combining business with pleasure, enjoying the trip, and at the same

time gleaning some useful information regarding slave or slave-ship.

The following sketch concerning one or two of these may tend to show,

that a man does not take leave of all enjoyment, when his ship leaves

the chalky cliffs of old England.

Our anchor was dropped outside the bar of Inambane river; the grating

noise of the chain as it rattled through the hawse-hole awoke me, and I

soon after went on deck. It was just six o'clock and a beautiful clear

morning, with the sun rising red and rosy--like a portly gentleman

getting up from his wine--and smiling over the sea in quite a pleasant

sort of way. So, as both Neptune and Sol seemed propitious, the

commander, our second-master, and myself made up our minds to visit the

little town and fort of Inambane, about forty--we thought fifteen--miles

up the river. But breakfast had to be prepared and eaten, the magazine

and arms got into the boat, besides a day's provisions, with ram and

quinine to be stowed away, so that the sun had got a good way up the

sky, and now looked more like a portly gentleman whose dinner had

disagreed, before we had got fairly under way and left the ship's side.

Never was forenoon brighter or fairer, only one or two snowy banks of

cloud interrupting the blue of the sky, while the river, miles broad,

stole silently seaward, unruffled by wave or wavelet, so that the hearts

of both men and officers were light as the air they breathed was pure.

The men, bending cheerfully on their oars, sang snatches of Dibdin--

Neptune's poet laureate; and we, tired of talking, reclined astern,

gazing with half-shut eyes on the round undulating hills, that, covered

with low mangrove-trees and large exotics, formed the banks of the

river. We passed numerous small wooded islands and elevated sandbanks,

on the edges of which whole regiments of long-legged birds waded about

in search of food, or, starting at our approach, flew over our heads in

Indian file, their bright scarlet-and-white plumage showing prettily

against the blue of the sky. Shoals of turtle floated past, and

hundreds of rainbow-coloured jelly-fishes, while, farther off, many

large black bodies--the backs of hippopotami--moved on the surface of

the water, or anon disappeared with a sullen plash. Saving these sounds

and the dip of our own oars, all was still, the silence of the desert

reigned around us, the quiet of a newly created world.

The forenoon wore away, the river got narrower, but, though we could see

a distance of ten miles before us, neither life nor sign of life could

be perceived. At one o'clock we landed among a few cocoa-nut trees to

eat our meagre dinner, a little salt pork, raw, and a bit of biscuit.

No sooner had we "shoved off" again than the sky became overcast; we

were caught in, and had to pull against, a blinding white-squall that

would have laid a line-of-battle on her beam ends. The rain poured down

as if from a water-spout, almost filling the boat and drenching us to

the skin, and, not being able to see a yard ahead, our boat ran aground

and stuck fast. It took us a good hour after the squall was over to

drag her into deep water; nor were our misfortunes then at an end, for

squall succeeded squall, and, having a journey of uncertain length still

before us, we began to feel very miserable indeed.

It was long after four o'clock when, tired, wet, and hungry, we hailed

with joy a large white house on a wooded promontory; it was the

Governor's castle, and soon after we came in sight of the town itself.

Situated so far in the interior of Africa, in a region so wild, few

would have expected to find such a little paradise as we now beheld,--a

colony of industrious Portuguese, a large fort and a company of

soldiers, a governor and consulate, a town of nice little detached

cottages, with rows of cocoa-nut, mango, and orange trees, and in fact

all the necessaries, and luxuries of civilised life. It was, indeed, an

oasis in the desert, and, to us, the most pleasant of pleasant

surprises.

Leaving the men for a short time with the boat, we made our way to the

house of the consul, a dapper little gentleman with a pretty wife and

two beautiful daughters--flowers that had hitherto blushed unseen and

wasted their sweetness in the desert air.

Our welcome was most warm. After making us swallow a glass of brandy

each to keep off fever, he kindly led us to a room, and made us strip

off our wet garments, while a servant brought bundle after bundle of

clothes, and spread them out before us. There were socks and shirts and

slippers galore, with waistcoats, pantaloons, and head-dresses, and

jackets, enough to have dressed an opera troupe. The commander and I

furnished ourselves with a red Turkish fez and dark-grey dressing-gown

each, with cord and tassels to correspond, and, thus, arrayed, we

considered ourselves of no small account. Our kind entertainers were

waiting for us in the next room, where they had, in the mean time, been

preparing for us the most fragrant of brandy punch. By-and-bye two

officers and a tall Parsee dropped in, and for the next hour or so the

conversation was of the most animated and lively description, although a

bystander, had there been one, would not have been much edified, for the

following reason: the younger daughter and myself were flirting in the

ancient Latin language, with an occasional soft word in Spanish; our

commander was talking in bad French to the consul's lady, who was

replying in Portuguese; the second-master was maintaining a smart

discussion in broken Italian with the elder daughter; the Parsee and

officer of the fort chiming in, the former in English, the latter in

Hindostanee; but as no one of the four could have had the slightest idea

of the other's meaning, the amount of information given and received

must have been very small,--in fact, merely nominal. It must not,

however, be supposed that our host or hostesses could speak _no_

English, for the consul himself would frequently, and with a bow that

was inimitable, push the bottle towards the commander, and say, as he

shrugged his shoulders and turned his palms skywards, "Continue you, Sar

Capitan, to wet your whistle;" and, more than once, the fair creature by

my side would raise and did raise the glass to her lips, and say, as her

eyes sought mine, "Good night, Sar Officeer," as if she meant me to be

off to bed without a moment's delay, which I knew she did not. Then,

when I responded to the toast, and complimented her on her knowledge of

the "universal language," she added, with a pretty shake of the head,

"No, Sar Officeer, I no can have speak the mooch Englese." A servant,--

apparently newly out of prison, so closely was his hair cropped,--

interrupted our pleasant confab, and removed the seat of our Babel to

the dining-room, where as nicely-cooked-and-served a dinner as ever

delighted the senses of hungry mortality awaited our attention. No

large clumsy joints, huge misshapen roasts or bulky boils, hampered the

board; but dainty made-dishes, savoury stews, piquant curries, delicate

fricassees whose bouquet tempted even as their taste and flavour

stimulated the appetite, strange little fishes as graceful in shape as

lovely in colour, vegetables that only the rich luxuriance of an African

garden could supply, and numerous other nameless nothings, with

delicious wines and costly liqueurs, neatness, attention, and kindness,

combined to form our repast, and counteract a slight suspicion of

crocodiles' tails and stewed lizard, for where ignorance is bliss a

fellow is surely a fool if he is wise.

We spent a most pleasant evening in asking questions, spinning yarns,

singing songs, and making love. The younger daughter--sweet child of

the desert--sang `Amante de alguno;' her sister played a selection from

`La Traviata;' next, the consul's lady favoured us with something

pensive and sad, having reference, I think, to bright eyes, bleeding

hearts, love, and slow death; then, the Parsee chanted a Persian hymn

with an "Allalallala," instead of Fol-di-riddle-ido as a chorus, which

elicited "Fra poco a me" from the Portuguese lieutenant; and this last

caused our commander to seat himself at the piano, turn up the white of

his eyes, and in very lugubrious tones question the probability of

"Gentle Annie's" ever reappearing in any spring-time whatever; then,

amid so much musical sentimentality and woe, it was not likely that I

was to hold my peace, so I lifted up my voice and sang--

"Cauld kail in Aberdeen,

An' cas ticks in Strathbogie;

Ilka chiel maun hae a quean

Bit leeze me on ma cogie--"

with a pathos that caused the tears to trickle over and adown the nose

of the younger daughter--she was of the gushing temperament--and didn't

leave a dry eye in the room. The song brought down the house--so to

speak--and I was the hero for the rest of the evening. Before parting

for the night we also sang `Auld lang syne,' copies of the words having

been written out and distributed, to prevent mistakes; this was supposed

by our hostess to be the English national anthem.

It was with no small amount of regret that we parted from our friends

next day; a fresh breeze carried us down stream, and, except our running

aground once or twice, and being nearly drowned in crossing the bar, we

arrived safely on board our saucy gunboat.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Afric's sunny fountains" have been engaged for such a length of time in

the poetical employment of "rolling down their golden sands," that a

bank or bar of that same bright material has been formed at the mouth of

every river, which it is very difficult and often dangerous to cross

even in canoes. We had despatched boats before us to take soundings on

the bar of Lamoo, and prepared to follow in the track thus marked out.

Now, our little bark, although not warranted, like the Yankee boat, to

float wherever there is a heavy dew, was nevertheless content with a

very modest allowance of the aqueous element; in two and a half fathoms

she was quite at home, and even in two--with the help of a few

breakers--she never failed to bump it over a bar. We approached the bar

of Lamoo, therefore, with a certain degree of confidence till the keel

rasped on the sand; this caused us to turn astern till we rasped again;

then, being neither able to get back nor forward, we stopped ship, put

our fingers in our wise mouths, and tried to consider what next was to

be done. Just then a small canoe was observed coming bobbing over the

big waves that tumbled in on the bar; at one moment it was hidden behind

a breaker, next moment mounting over another, and so, after a little

game at bo-peep, it got alongside, and from it there scrambled on board

a little, little man, answering entirely to Dickens's description of

Quilp.

"Quilp!" said the commander.

"Quilp!! by George!" repeated our second-master.

"Quilp!!!" added I, "by all that's small and ugly."

"Your sarvant, sar," said Quilp himself. "I am one pilot." There

certainly was not enough of him to make two. He was rather darker in

skin than the Quilp of Dickens, and his only garment was a coal-sack

without sleeves--no coal-sack _has_ sleeves, however--begirt with a

rope, in which a short knife was stuck; he had, besides, sandals on his

feet, and his temples were begirt with a dirty dishclout by way of

turban, and he repeated, "I am one pilot, sar."

"Can you take us over the bar?" asked the commander.

"How much water you?"

"Three fathoms."

"I do it, sar, plenty quick."

"Twenty shillings if you do."

"I do it, sar. I do him," cried the little man, as he mounted the

bridge; then cocking his head to one side, and spreading out his arms

like a badly feathered duck, he added, "Suppose I no do him plenty

proper, you catchee me and make shot."

"If the vessel strikes, I'll hang you, sir."

Quilp grinned--which was his way of smiling.

"Up steam, sar!" he cried; the order was obeyed.

"Go 'head. Stabird a leetle."

"And a half three," sung the man in the chains; then, "And a half four;"

and by-and-bye, "And a