Medical Life in the Navy, Gordon Stables [classic fiction .txt] 📗
- Author: Gordon Stables
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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.
CHAPTER THREE. - A FELINE ADVENTURE. PASSED--HOORAY! CONVERSATION OF (NOT WITH) TWO ISRAELITISH PARTIES.
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
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