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

life. No, like Moses from the top of Mount Pisgah, I could but behold

the promised land afar off; _he_ had the dark gates of death to pass

before he might set foot therein, and I had to pass the gloomy portals

of Somerset House, and its board of dread examiners.

The landlord--honest man! little did he know the torture he was giving

me--spread before me on the table more than a dozen orders for places of

amusement,--to me, uninitiated, places of exceeding great joy--red

orders, green orders, orange and blue orders, orders for concerts,

orders for gardens, orders for theatres royal, and orders for the opera.

Oh, reader, fancy at that moment my state of mind; fancy having the

wonderful lamp of Aladdin offered you, and your hands tied behind your

back I myself turned red, and green, and orange, and blue, even as the

orders were, gasped a little, called for a glass of water,--not beer,

mark me,--and rushed forth. I looked not at the flaming placards on the

walls, nor at the rows of seedy advertisement-board men. I looked

neither to the right hand nor to the left, but made my way straight to

the British Museum, with the hopes of engaging in a little calm

reflection. I cannot say I found it however; for all the strange things

I saw made me think of all the strange countries these strange things

came from, and this set me a-thinking of all the beautiful countries I

might see if I passed.

"_If_, gracious heavens!" thought I. "Are you mad, knocking about here

like a magnetised mummy, and Tuesday the passing day? Home, you devil

you, and study!"

Half an hour later, in imagination behold me seated before a table in my

little room, with the sun's parting beams shemmering dustily in through

my window, surrounded with books--books--books medical, books surgical,

books botanical, books nautical, books what-not-ical; behold, too, the

wet towel that begirts my thoughtful brow, my malar bones leaning on my

hands, my forearms resting on the mahogany, while I am thinking, or

trying to think, of, on, or about everything known, unknown, or guessed

at.

Mahogany, did I say? "Mahogany," methinks I hear the examiner say,

"hem! hem! upon what island, tell us, doctor, does the mahogany tree

grow, exist, and flourish? Give the botanical name of this tree, the

natural family to which it belongs, the form of its leaves and flower,

its uses in medicine and in art, the probable number of years it lives,

the articles made from its bark, the parasites that inhabit it, the

birds that build their nests therein, and the class of savage who finds

shelter beneath its wide-spreading, _if_ wide-spreading, branches;

entering minutely into the formation of animal structure in general, and

describing the whole theory of cellular development, tracing the gradual

rise of man from the sponge through the various forms of snail, oyster,

salmon, lobster, lizard, rabbit, kangaroo, monkey, gorilla, nigger, and

Irish Yahoo, up to the perfect Englishman; and state your ideas of the

most probable form and amount of perfection at which you think the

animal structure will arrive in the course of the next ten thousand

years. Is mahogany much superior to oak? If so, why is it not used in

building ships? Give a short account of the history of shipbuilding,

with diagrams illustrative of the internal economy of Noah's ark, the

Great Eastern, and the Rob Roy canoe. Describe the construction of the

Armstrong gun, King Theodore's mortar, and Mons Meg. Describe the

different kinds of mortars used in building walls, and those used in

throwing them down; insert here the composition of gunpowder tea, Fenian

fire, and the last New Yankee drink? In the mahogany country state the

diseases most prevalent among the natives, and those which you would

think yourself justified in telling the senior assistant-surgeon to

request the surgeon to beg the first lieutenant to report to the

commander, that he may call the attention of your captain to the

necessity of ordering the crew to guard against."

Then, most indulgent reader, behold me, with these and a thousand other

such questions floating confusedly through my bewildered brain--behold

me, I say, rise from the table slowly, and as one who doubteth whether

he be not standing on his head; behold me kick aside the cane-bottomed

chair, then clear the table with one wild sweep, state "Bosh!" with the

air and emphasis of a pasha of three tails, throw myself on the sofa,

and with a "Waitah, glass of gwog and cigaw, please," commence to read

`Tom Cwingle's Log.' This is how I spent my first day, and a good part

of the night too, in London; and--moral--I should sincerely advise every

medical aspirant, or candidate for a commission in the Royal Navy, to

bring in his pocket some such novel as Roderick Random, or Harry

Lorrequer, to read immediately before passing, and to leave every other

book at home.

Next morning, while engaged at my toilet--not a limb of my body which I

had not amputated that morning mentally, not one of my joints I had not

exsected, or a capital operation I did not perform on my own person; I

had, in fact, with imaginary surgical instruments, cut myself all into

little pieces, dissected my every nerve, filled all my arteries with red

wax and my veins with blue, traced out the origin and insertion of every

muscle, and thought of what each one could and what each one could not

do; and was just giving the final twirl to my delicate moustache, and

the proper set to the bow of my necktie, when something occurred which

caused me to start and turn quickly round. It was a soft modest little

knock--almost plaintive in its modesty and softness--at my door. I

heard no footfall nor sound of any sort, simply the "tapping as of some

one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber-door; simply that and nothing

more."

"This," thought I, "is Sarah Jane with my boots: mindful girl is Sarah

Jane." Then giving voice to my thoughts, "Thank you, Sally," said I,

"just leave them outside; I'll have Finnon haddocks and oatcake for

breakfast."

Then, a voice that wasn't Sally's, but ever so much softer and more

kitten-like in tone, replied,--

"Hem! ahem!" and presently added, "it is only _me_." Then the door was

pushed slightly open, while pressing one foot doubtfully against it I

peeped out, and to my surprise perceived the half of a little yellow

book and the whole of a little yellow face with whiskers at it, and an

expression so very like that of a one-year-old lady cat, that I remained

for a little in momentary expectation of hearing it purr. But it

didn't, merely smiling and repeating,--

"It's only me."

"So I see," said I, quite taken aback as it were. "So I see." Then

"_Me_," slowly and gently overcame the resistance my right foot offered,

and, pushing open the door, held out the yellow tract, which I took to

be of a spiritual nature, and spoke to "I" as follows:--

"We--that is, he! he! my father and me, he! he! you see--had heard of

your going up to join the Navy." At that moment it seemed to "I" the

easiest thing in the world, short of spending money, to "join" the Royal

Navy. "And so," continued "_Me_", "you see, he! he! we thought of

making you a call, all in business, you see, he! he! and offering you

our estimate for your uniform."

Uniform! grand name to my ear, I who had never worn anything more gay

than a homespun coat of houden-grey and a Gordon tartan kilt. I thought

it was my turn to say, "Hem! hem!" and even add an inaudible "Ho! ho!"

for I felt myself expanding inch by inch like a kidney bean.

"In that little book," _Me_ went on, "there,"--pointing to the front

page--"you will find the names of one hundred and fifty-seven officers

and gentlemen who have honoured us with their custom."

Then I exclaimed, "Dear me!" and Me added with animation, "You see: he!

he!"

Was it any wonder then, that I succumbed to such a flood of temptation,

that even my native canniness disappeared or was swept away, and that I

promised this gentleman of feline address that if I passed I would

assuredly make his father a call? Alas! unfortunate greenhorn that I

was, I found out when too late that some on the list had certainly given

him their custom, and like myself repented only once but for ever; while

the custom of the majority was confined to a pair or two of duck

inexpressibles, a uniform cap, a dozen of buttons, or a hank of sewing

silk.

"We can proudly refer you," Me continued, as I bowed him to the door,

"to any of them, and if you do us the honour of calling you will be

enabled to judge for yourself; but," added he, in a stage whisper, at

the same time making a determined attempt, as I thought, to bite off my

ear, "be aware of the Jews."

"What," said I, "is your father not then a Jew? the name I thought--"

"Oh-h-h!" he cried, "they may call us so; but--born in England--bred in

London--neighbourhood of Bond Street, highly respectable locality. Army

and Navy outfitters, my father and me, you see, he! he! We invite

inspection, give satisfaction, and defy competition, you see, he! he!"

And he glided silently down stairs, giving me scarcely time to observe

that he was a young man with black hair, black eyes and whiskers, and

wearing goloshes.

I soon after went down to breakfast, wondering, as I well might, how my

feline friend had found out all about my affairs; but it was not till I

had eaten ninety and one breakfasts and a corresponding number of

dinners that I discovered he belonged to a class of fellows who live by

fleecing the poor victims they pretend to clothe. Intending candidates,

beware of the Jews!

Tuesday came round at last, just as Tuesdays have always been in the

habit of doing, and at eleven o'clock precisely I, with my heart playing

a game of cricket, with my spine for the bat and my ribs for the wicket,

"repaired"--a very different mode of progression from any other with

which I am acquainted--to the medical department of Somerset House. I

do not remember ever having entered any place with feelings of greater

solemnity. I was astonished in no small degree at the people who passed

along the Strand for appearing so disgustingly indifferent,--

"And I so weerie fu' o' care."

Had I been going to stand my trial for manslaughter or cattle-lifting, I

am certain I should have felt supremely happy in comparison. I passed

the frowning gateway, traversed the large square, and crossed the

Rubicon by entering the great centre doorway and inquiring my way to the

examination room. I had previously, be it observed, sent in my medical

and surgical degrees, with all my class tickets and certificates,

including that for virtue. I was now directed up a great many long

stairs, along as many gloomy-looking corridors, in which I lost my way

at least half a dozen times, and had to call at a corresponding number

of green-baize-covered brass tacketed doors, in order to be put right,

before I at length found myself in front of the proper one, at which I

knocked once, twice, and even thrice, without in any way affecting or

diminishing the buzz that was going on behind the door; so I pushed it

open, and boldly entered. I now found myself in the midst of a large

and select assortment of clerks, whose tongues were hard at work if

their pens were not, and who did not seem half so much astonished at

seeing me there as I felt at finding myself. The room itself looked

like an hypertrophied law office, of which the principal features were

papers and presses, three-legged stools, calf-bound folios, and cobwebs.

I stood for a considerable time, observing but unobserved, wondering

all