Medical Life in the Navy. Stables Gordon

tablets, and nodded again. After this pantomime had come to a conclusion I was furnished with a sheet of foolscap and sent back to the room above the Thames to write a dissertation on fractures of the cranium, and shortly after sending it in I was recalled and informed that I had sustained the dread ordeal to their entire satisfaction, etc, and that I had better, before I left the house, pay an official visit to the Director-General. I bowed, retired, heaved a monster sigh, made the visit of ceremony, and afterwards my exit.

      The first gentleman (?) I met on coming out was a short, middle-aged Shylock, hook-nosed and raven-haired, and arrayed in a surtout of seedy black. He approached me with much bowing and smiling, and holding below my nose a little green tract which he begged I would accept.

      “Exceedingly kind,” thought I, and was about to comply with his request, when, greatly to my surprise and the discomposure of my toilet, an arm was hooked into mine, I was wheeled round as if on a pivot, and found myself face to face with another Israelite armed with a red tract.

      “He is a Jew and a dog,” said this latter, shaking a forefinger close to my face.

      “Is he?” said I. The words had hardly escaped my lips when the other Jew whipped his arm through mine and quickly re-wheeled me towards him.

      “He is a liar and a cheat,” hissed he, with the same motion of the forefinger as his rival had used.

      “Indeed!” said I, beginning to wonder what it all meant. I had not, however, long time to wonder, being once more set spinning by the Israelite of the red tract.

      “Beware of the Jews?” he whispered, pointing to the other; and the conversation was continued in the following strain. Although in the common sense of the word it really was no conversation, as each of them addressed himself to me only, and I could find no reply, still, taking the word in its literal meaning (from con, together, and verto, I turn), it was indeed a conversation, for they turned me together, each one, as he addressed me, hooking his arm in mine and whirling me round like the handle of an air-pump or a badly constructed teetotum, and shaking a forefinger in my face, as if I were a parrot and he wanted me to swear.

      Shylock of the green tract. – “He is a swine and a scoundrel.”

      Israelite of the red. – “He’s a liar and a thief.”

      Shylock of the green. – “And he’ll get round you some way.”

      Israelite of red. – “Ahab and brothers cheat everybody they can.”

      Shylock of green. – “He’ll be lending you money.”

      Red. – “Whole town know them – ”

      Green. – “Charge you thirty per cent.”

      Red – “They are swindlers and dogs.”

      Green. – “Look at our estimate.”

      Red. – “Look at our estimate.”

      Green. – “Peep at our charges.”

      Red. – “Five years’ credit.”

      Green. – “Come with us, sir,” tugging me to the right.

      Red. – “This way, master,” pulling me to the left.

      Green. – “Be advised; he’ll rob you.”

      Red. – “If you go he’ll murder you.”

      “Damn you both!” I roared; and letting fly both fists at the same time, I turned them both together on their backs and thus put an end to the conversation. Only just in time, though, for the remaining ten tribes, or their representatives, were hurrying towards me, each one swaying aloft a gaudy-coloured tract; and I saw no way of escaping but by fairly making a run for it, which I accordingly did, pursued by the ten tribes; and even had I been a centipede, I would have assuredly been torn limb from limb, had I not just then rushed into the arms of my feline friend from Bond Street.

      He purred, gave me a paw and many congratulations; was so glad I had passed, – but, to be sure, knew I would, – and so happy I had escaped the Jews; would I take a glass of beer?

      I said, “I didn’t mind;” so we adjourned (the right word in the right place – adjourned) to a quiet adjoining hotel.

      “Now,” said he, as he tendered the waiter a five-pound Bank of England note, “you must not take it amiss, Doctor, but – ”

      “No smaller change, sir?” asked the waiter.

      “I’m afraid,” said my friend (?), opening and turning over the contents of a well-lined pocket-book, “I’ve only got five – oh, here are sovs, he! he!” Then turning to me: “I was going to observe,” he continued, “that if you want a pound or two, he! he! – you know young fellows will be young fellows – only don’t say a word to my father, he! he! he! – highly respectable man. Another glass of beer? No? Well, we will go and see father!”

      “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 passing 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 spacious streets, strolled delightedly in the handsome parks, lounged in picture galleries, or buried myself for hour’s in the solemn halls and classical 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 amusement, 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