Читать книгу Medical Life in the Navy - Stables Gordon - Страница 4

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 for a like purpose. Suddenly there arose a great commotion among them, and they all rushed off to surround a gentleman in brand-new naval uniform, who was looking, with his mouth open, for a boat, in every place where a boat was most unlikely to be. Knowing at a glance that he was a stranger, they very generously, each and all of them, offered their services, and wanted to row him somewhere – anywhere. After a great deal of fighting and scrambling among themselves, during which the officer got tugged here and tugged there a good many times, he was at last bundled into a very dirty cobble, into which a rough-looking boatman bounded after him and at once shoved off.