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

wind comes the sound of the evening bells. The men are gathered in

little groups on deck, and there is a tenderness in their landward gaze,

and a pathos in their rough voices, that one would hardly expect to

find.

"Yonder's my Poll, Jack," says one. "Look, see! the poor lass is

crying; blowed if I think I'll ever see her more."

"There," says another, "is _my_ old girl on the breakwater, beside the

old cove in the red nightcap."

"That's my father, Bill," answers a third. "God bless the dear old

chap?"

"Good-bye, Jean; good-bye, lass. Ah! she won't hear me. Blessed if I

don't feel as if I could make a big baby of myself and cry outright."

"Oh! Dick, Dick," exclaims an honest-looking tar; "I see'd my poor wife

tumble down; she had wee Johnnie in her arms, and--and what will I do?"

"Keep up your heart, to be sure," answers a tall, rough son of a gun.

"There, she has righted again, only a bit of a swoon ye see. I've got

neither sister, wife, nor mother, so surely it's _me_ that ought to be

making a noodle of myself; but where's the use?"

An hour or two later we were steaming across channel, with nothing

visible but the blue sea all before us, and the chalky cliffs of

Cornwall far behind, with the rosy blush of the setting sun lingering on

their summits.

Then the light faded from the sky, the gloaming star shone out in the

east, big waves began to tumble in, and the night breeze blew cold and

chill from off the broad Atlantic Ocean.

Tired and dull, weary and sad, I went below to the wardroom and seated

myself on a rocking chair. It was now that I began to feel the

discomfort of not having a cabin. Being merely a supernumerary or

passenger, such a luxury was of course out of the question, even had I

been an admiral. I was to have a screen berth, or what a landsman would

call a canvas tent, on the main or fighting deck, but as yet it was not

rigged. Had I never been to sea before, I would have now felt very

wretched indeed; but having roughed it in Greenland and Davis Straits in

small whaling brigs, I had got over the weakness of sea-sickness; yet

notwithstanding I felt all the thorough prostration both of mind and

body, which the first twenty-four hours at sea often produces in the

oldest and best of sailors, so that I was only too happy when I at last

found myself within canvas.

By next morning the wind had freshened, and when I turned out I found

that the steam had been turned off, and that we were bowling along

before a ten-knot breeze. All that day the wind blew strongly from the

N.N.E., and increased as night came on to a regular gale of wind. I had

seen some wild weather in the Greenland Ocean, but never anything

before, nor since, to equal the violence of the storm on that dreadful

night, in the Bay of Biscay. We were running dead before the wind at

twelve o'clock, when the gale was at its worst, and when the order to

light fires and get up steam had been given. Just then we were making

fourteen knots, with only a foresail, a fore-topsail, and main-topsail,

the latter two close-reefed. I was awakened by a terrific noise on

deck, and I shall not soon forget that awakening. The ship was leaking

badly both at the ports and scupper-holes; so that the maindeck all

around was flooded with water, which lifted my big chest every time the

roll of the vessel allowed it to flow towards it. To say the ship was

rolling would express but poorly the indescribably disagreeable

wallowing motion of the frigate, while men were staggering with anxious

faces from gun to gun, seeing that the lashings were all secure; so

great was the strain on the cable-like ropes that kept them in their

places. The shot had got loose from the racks, and were having a small

cannonade on their own account, to the no small consternation of the men

whose duty it was to re-secure them. It was literally sea without and

sea within, for the green waves were pouring down the main hatchway,

adding to the amount of water already _below_, where the chairs and

other articles of domestic utility were all afloat and making voyages of

discovery from one officer's cabin to another.

On the upper deck all was darkness, confusion, and danger, for both the

fore and main-topsails had been carried away at the same time, reducing

us to one sail--the foresail. The noise and crackling of the riven

canvas, mingling with the continuous roar of the storm, were at times

increased by the rattle of thunder and the rush of rain-drops, while the

lightning played continually around the slippery masts and cordage.

About one o'clock, a large ship, apparently unmanageable, was dimly seen

for one moment close aboard of us--had we come into collision the

consequences must have been dreadful;--and thus for two long hours,

_till steam was got up_, did we fly before the gale, after which the

danger was comparatively small.

Having spent its fury, having in fact blown itself out of breath, the

wind next day retired to its cave, and the waves got smaller and

beautifully less, till peace and quietness once more reigned around us.

Going on deck one morning I found we were anchored under the very shadow

of a steep rock, and not far from a pretty little town at the foot of a

high mountain, which was itself covered to the top with trees and

verdure, with the white walls of many a quaint-looking edifice peeping

through the green--boats, laden with fruit and fish and turtle,

surrounded the ship. The island of Madeira and town, of Funchal. As

there was no pier, we had to land among the stones. The principal

amusement of English residents here seems to be lounging about, cheroot

in month, beneath the rows of trees that droop over the pavements,

getting carried about in portable hammocks, and walking or riding (I

rode, and, not being able to get my horse to move at a suitable pace, I

looked behind, and found the boy from whom I had hired him sticking like

a leech to my animal's tail, nor would he be shaken off--nor could the

horse be induced to kick him off; this is the custom of the Funchalites,

and a funny one it is) to the top of the mountain, for the pleasure of

coming down in a sleigh, a distance of two miles, in twice as many

minutes, while the least deviation from the path would result in a

terrible smash against the wall of either side, but I never heard of any

such accident occurring.

Three days at Madeira, and up anchor again; our next place of call being

Saint Helena. Every one has heard of the gentleman who wanted to

conquer the world but couldn't, who tried to beat the British but

didn't, who staked his last crown at a game of _loo_, and losing fled,

and fleeing was chased, and being chased was caught and chained by the

leg, like an obstreperous game-cock, to a rock somewhere in the middle

of the sea, on which he stood night and day for years, with his arms

folded across his chest, and his cocked hat wrong on, a warning to the

unco-ambitious. The rock was Saint Helena, and a very beautiful rock it

is too, hill and dell and thriving town, its mountain-sides tilled and

its straths and glens containing many a fertile little farm. It is the

duty of every one who touches the shores of this far-famed island to

make a pilgrimage to Longwood, the burial-place of the "great man." I

have no intention of describing this pilgrimage, for this has been done

by dozens before my time, or, if not, it ought to have been: I shall

merely add a very noticeable fact, which others may not perchance have

observed--_both sides_ of the road all the way to the tomb are strewn

with _Bass's beer-bottles_, empty of course, and at the grave itself

there are hogsheads of them; and the same is the case at every place

which John Bull has visited, or where English foot has ever trodden.

The rule holds good all over the world; and in the Indian Ocean,

whenever I found an uninhabited island, or even reef which at some

future day would be an island, if I did not likewise find an empty

beer-bottle, I at once took possession in the name of Queen Victoria,

giving three hips! and one hurrah! thrice, and singing "For he's a jolly

good fellow," without any very distinct notion as to who _was_ the jolly

fellow; also adding more decidedly "which nobody can deny"--there being

no one on the island to deny it.

England has in this way acquired much additional territory at my hands,

without my having as yet received any very substantial recompense for my

services.

The duties of the assistant-surgeon--the modern Roderick Random--on

board a line-of-battle ship are seldom very onerous in time of peace,

and often not worth mentioning. Suppose, for example, the reader is

that officer. At five bells--half-past six--in the morning, if you

happen to be a light sleeper, you will be sensible of some one gliding

silently into your cabin, rifling your pockets, and extracting your

watch, your money, and other your trinkets; but do not jump out of bed,

pray, with the intention of collaring him; it is no thief--only your

servant. Formerly this official used to be a marine, with whom on

joining your ship you bargained in the following manner.

The marine walked up to you and touched his front hair, saying at the

same time,--

"_I_ don't mind looking arter you, sir," or "I'll do for you, sir." On

which you would reply,--

"All right! what's your name?" and he would answer "Cheeks," or whatever

his name might be. (Cheeks, that is the real Cheeks, being a sort of

visionary soldier--a phantom marine--and very useful at times, answering

in fact to the Nobody of higher quarters, who is to blame for so many

things,--"Nobody is to blame," and "Cheeks is to blame," being

synonymous sentences.)

Now-a-days Government kindly allows each commissioned officer one half

of a servant, or one whole one between two officers, which, at times, is

found to be rather an awkward arrangement; as, for instance, you and,

say, the lieutenant of marines, have each the half of the same servant,

and you wish your half to go on shore with a message, and the lieutenant

requires his half to remain on board: the question then comes to be one

which only the wisdom of Solomon could solve, in the same way that

Alexander the Great loosed the Gordian knot.

Your servant, then, on entering your cabin in the morning, carefully and

quietly deposits the contents of your pockets on your table, and, taking

all your clothes and your boots in his arms, silently flits from view,

and shortly after re-enters, having in the interval neatly folded and

brushed them. You are just turning round to go to sleep again, when--

"Six bells, sir, please," remarks your man, laying his hand on your

elbow, and giving you a gentle shake to insure your resuscitation, and

which will generally have the effect of causing you to spring at once

from your cot, perhaps in your hurry nearly upsetting the cup of

delicious ship's cocoa which he has kindly saved to you from his own

breakfast--a no small sacrifice either, if you bear in mind that his own

allowance is by no means very large, and that his breakfast consists of

cocoa and biscuits alone--these last too often containing more weevils

than flour. As you hurry into your bath, your servant coolly informs

you--

"Plenty of time, sir. Doctor himself hain't turned out yet."

"Then," you inquire, "it isn't six bells?"

"Not