I LONG TO JOIN THE BRITISH ARMY BEFORE SEBASTOPOL--MY
WANDERINGS ABOUT LONDON FOR THAT PURPOSE--HOW I
FAIL--ESTABLISHMENT OF THE FIRM OF "DAY AND MARTIN"--I
EMBARK FOR TURKEY.
Before I left Jamaica for Navy Bay, as narrated in the last chapter,
war had been declared against Russia, and we were all anxiously
expecting news of a descent upon the Crimea. Now, no sooner had I
heard of war somewhere, than I longed to witness it; and when I was
told that many of the regiments I had known so well in Jamaica had
left England for the scene of action, the desire to join them became
stronger than ever. I used to stand for hours in silent thought before
an old map of the world, in a little corner of which some one had
chalked a red cross, to enable me to distinguish where the Crimea was;
and as I traced the route thither, all difficulties would vanish. But
when I came to talk over the project with my friends, the best scheme
I could devise seemed so wild and improbable, that I was fain to
resign my hopes for a time, and so started for Navy Bay.
But all the way to England, from Navy Bay, I was turning my old wish
over and over in my mind; and when I found myself in London, in the
autumn of 1854, just after the battle of Alma had been fought, and my
old friends were fairly before the walls of Sebastopol, how to join
them there took up far more of my thoughts than that visionary
gold-mining speculation on the river Palmilla, which seemed so
feasible to us in New Granada, but was considered so wild and
unprofitable a speculation in London. And, as time wore on, the
inclination to join my old friends of the 97th, 48th, and other
regiments, battling with worse foes than yellow fever or cholera, took
such exclusive possession of my mind, that I threw over the gold
speculation altogether, and devoted all my energies to my new scheme.
Heaven knows it was visionary enough! I had no friends who could help
me in such a project--nay, who would understand why I desired to go,
and what I desired to do when I got there. My funds, although they
might, carefully husbanded, carry me over the three thousand miles,
and land me at Balaclava, would not support me there long; while to
persuade the public that an unknown Creole woman would be useful to
their army before Sebastopol was too improbable an achievement to be
thought of for an instant. Circumstances, however, assisted me.
As the winter wore on, came hints from various quarters of
mismanagement, want, and suffering in the Crimea; and after the
battles of Balaclava and Inkermann, and the fearful storm of the 14th
of November, the worst anticipations were realized. Then we knew that
the hospitals were full to suffocation, that scarcity and exposure
were the fate of all in the camp, and that the brave fellows for whom
any of us at home would have split our last shilling, and shared our
last meal, were dying thousands of miles away from the active sympathy
of their fellow-countrymen. Fast and thick upon the news of Inkermann,
fought by a handful of fasting and enfeebled men against eight times
their number of picked Russians, brought fresh and animated to the
contest, and while all England was reeling beneath the shock of that
fearful victory, came the sad news that hundreds were dying whom the
Russian shot and sword had spared, and that the hospitals of Scutari
were utterly unable to shelter, or their inadequate staff to attend
to, the ship-loads of sick and wounded which were sent to them across
the stormy Black Sea.
But directly England knew the worst, she set about repairing her past
neglect. In every household busy fingers were working for the poor
soldier--money flowed in golden streams wherever need was--and
Christian ladies, mindful of the sublime example, "I was sick, and ye
visited me," hastened to volunteer their services by those sick-beds
which only women know how to soothe and bless.
Need I be ashamed to confess that I shared in the general enthusiasm,
and longed more than ever to carry my busy (and the reader will not
hesitate to add experienced) fingers where the sword or bullet had
been busiest, and pestilence most rife. I had seen much of sorrow and
death elsewhere, but they had never daunted me; and if I could feel
happy binding up the wounds of quarrelsome Americans and treacherous
Spaniards, what delight should I not experience if I could be useful
to my own "sons," suffering for a cause it was so glorious to fight
and bleed for! I never stayed to discuss probabilities, or enter into
conjectures as to my chances of reaching the scene of action. I made
up my mind that if the army wanted nurses, they would be glad of me,
and with all the ardour of my nature, which ever carried me where
inclination prompted, I decided that I _would_ go to the Crimea; and
go I did, as all the world knows.
Of course, had it not been for my old strong-mindedness (which has
nothing to do with obstinacy, and is in no way related to it--the best
term I can think of to express it being "judicious decisiveness"), I
should have given up the scheme a score of times in as many days; so
regularly did each successive day give birth to a fresh set of rebuffs
and disappointments. I shall make no excuse to my readers for giving
them a pretty full history of my struggles to become a Crimean
_heroine_!
My first idea (and knowing that I was well fitted for the work, and
would be the right woman in the right place, the reader can fancy my
audacity) was to apply to the War Office for the post of hospital
nurse. Among the diseases which I understood were most prevalent in
the Crimea were cholera, diarrhoea, and dysentery, all of them more
or less known in tropical climates; and with which, as the reader will
remember, my Panama experience had made me tolerably familiar. Now, no
one will accuse me of presumption, if I say that I thought (and so it
afterwards proved) that my knowledge of these human ills would not
only render my services as a nurse more valuable, but would enable me
to be of use to the overworked doctors. That others thought so too, I
took with me ample testimony. I cannot resist the temptation of
giving my readers one of the testimonials I had, it seems so eminently
practical and to the point:--
"I became acquainted with Mrs. Seacole through the
instrumentality of T. B. Cowan, Esq., H. B. M. Consul at
Colon, on the Isthmus of Panama, and have had many
opportunities of witnessing her professional zeal and
ability in the treatment of aggravated forms of tropical
diseases.
"I am myself personally much indebted for her
indefatigable kindness and skill at a time when I am apt
to believe the advice of a practitioner qualified in the
North would have little availed.
"Her peculiar fitness, in a constitutional point of
view, for the duties of a medical attendant, needs no
comment.
(Signed) "A. G. M.,
"Late Medical Officer, West Granada
Gold-mining Company."
So I made long and unwearied application at the War Office, in
blissful ignorance of the labour and time I was throwing away. I have
reason to believe that I considerably interfered with the repose of
sundry messengers, and disturbed, to an alarming degree, the official
gravity of some nice gentlemanly young fellows, who were working out
their salaries in an easy, off-hand way. But my ridiculous endeavours
to gain an interview with the Secretary-at-War of course failed, and
glad at last to oblige a distracted messenger, I transferred my
attentions to the Quartermaster-General's department. Here I saw
another gentleman, who listened to me with a great deal of polite
enjoyment, and--his amusement ended--hinted, had I not better apply
to the Medical Department; and accordingly I attached myself to their
quarters with the same unwearying ardour. But, of course, I grew tired
at last, and then I changed my plans.
Now, I am not for a single instant going to blame the authorities who
would not listen to the offer of a motherly yellow woman to go to the
Crimea and nurse her "sons" there, suffering from cholera,
diarrhoea, and a host of lesser ills. In my country, where people
know our use, it would have been different; but here it was natural
enough--although I had references, and other voices spoke for me--that
they should laugh, good-naturedly enough, at my offer. War, I know, is
a serious game, but sometimes very humble actors are of great use in
it, and if the reader, when he comes in time to peruse the evidence of
those who had to do with the Sebastopol drama, of my share in it, will
turn back to this chapter, he will confess perhaps that, after all,
the impulse which led me to the War Department was not unnatural.
My new scheme was, I candidly confess, worse devised than the one
which had failed. Miss Nightingale had left England for the Crimea,
but other nurses were still to follow, and my new plan was simply to
offer myself to Mrs. H---- as a recruit. Feeling that I was one of the
very women they most wanted, experienced and fond of the work, I
jumped at once to the conclusion that they would gladly enrol me in
their number. To go to Cox's, the army agents, who were most obliging
to me, and obtain the Secretary-at-War's private address, did not take
long; and that done, I laid the same pertinacious siege to his great
house in ---- Square, as I had previously done to his place of
business.
Many a long hour did I wait in his great hall, while scores passed in
and out; many of them looking curiously at me. The flunkeys, noble
creatures! marvelled exceedingly at the yellow woman whom no excuses
could get rid of, nor impertinence dismay, and showed me very clearly
that they resented my persisting in remaining there in mute appeal
from their sovereign will. At last I gave that up, after a message
from Mrs. H. that the full complement of nurses had been secured, and
that my offer could not be entertained. Once again I tried, and had an
interview this time with one of Miss Nightingale's companions. She
gave me the same reply, and I read in her face the fact, that had
there been a vacancy, I should not have been chosen to fill it.
As a last resort, I applied to the managers of the Crimean Fund to
know whether they would give me a passage to the camp--once there I
would trust to something turning up. But this failed also, and one
cold evening I stood in the twilight, which was fast deepening into
wintry night, and looked back upon the ruins of my last castle in the
air. The disappointment seemed a cruel one. I was so conscious of the
unselfishness of the motives which induced me to leave England--so
certain of the service I could render among the sick soldiery, and yet
I found it so difficult to convince others of these facts. Doubts and
suspicions arose in my heart for the first and last time, thank
Heaven. Was it possible that American prejudices against colour had
some root here? Did these ladies shrink from accepting my aid because
my blood flowed beneath a somewhat duskier skin than theirs? Tears
streamed down my foolish cheeks, as I stood in the fast thinning
streets; tears of grief that any should doubt my motives--that Heaven
should deny me the opportunity that I sought. Then I stood still, and
looking upward through and through the dark clouds that shadowed
London, prayed aloud for help. I dare say that I was a strange sight
to the few passers-by, who hastened homeward through the gloom and
mist of that wintry night. I dare say those who read these pages will
wonder at me as much as they who saw me did; but you must all remember
that I am one of an impulsive people, and find it hard to put that
restraint upon my feelings which to you is so easy and natural.
The morrow, however, brought fresh hope. A good night's rest had
served to strengthen my determination. Let what might happen, to the
Crimea I would go. If in no other way, then would I upon my own
responsibility and at my own cost. There were those there who had
known me in Jamaica, who had been under my care; doctors who would
vouch for my skill and willingness to aid them, and a general who had
more than once helped me, and would do so still. Why not trust to
their welcome and kindness, and start at once? If the authorities had
allowed me, I would willingly have given them my services as a nurse;
but as they declined them, should I not open an hotel for invalids in
the Crimea in my own way? I had no more idea of what the Crimea was
than the home authorities themselves perhaps, but having once made up
my mind, it was not long before cards were printed and speeding across
the Mediterranean to my friends before Sebastopol. Here is one of
them:--
"BRITISH HOTEL.
Mrs. Mary Seacole
(_Late of Kingston, Jamaica_),
Respectfully announces to her former kind friends,
and to the Officers of the Army and Navy generally,
That she has taken her passage in the screw-steamer
"Hollander," to start from London on the 25th of
January, intending on her arrival at Balaclava to
establish a mess table and comfortable quarters for sick
and convalescent officers."
This bold programme would reach the Crimea in the end of January, at a
time when any officer would have considered a stall in an English
stable luxurious quarters compared to those he possessed, and had
nearly forgotten the comforts of a mess-table. It must have read to
them rather like a mockery, and yet, as the reader will see, I
succeeded in redeeming my pledge.
While this new scheme was maturing, I again met Mr. Day in England. He
was bound to Balaclava upon some shipping business, and we came to the
understanding that (if it were found desirable) we should together
open a store as well as an hotel in the neighbourhood of the camp. So
was originated the well-known firm of Seacole and Day (I am sorry to
say, the camp wits dubbed it Day and Martin), which, for so many
months, did business upon the now deserted high-road from the then
busy harbour of Balaclava to the front of the British army before
Sebastopol.
These new arrangements were not allowed to interfere in any way with
the main object of my journey. A great portion of my limited capital
was, with the kind aid of a medical friend, invested in medicines
which I had reason to believe would be useful; with the remainder I
purchased those home comforts which I thought would be most difficult
to obtain away from England.
I had scarcely set my foot on board the "Hollander," before I met a
friend. The supercargo was the brother of the Mr. S----, whose death
in Jamaica the reader will not have forgotten, and he gave me a hearty
welcome. I thought the meeting augured well, and when I told him my
plans he gave me the most cheering encouragement. I was glad, indeed,
of any support, for, beyond all doubt, my project was a hazardous one.
So cheered at the outset, I watched without a pang the shores of
England sink behind the smooth sea, and turned my gaze hopefully to
the as yet landless horizon, beyond which lay that little peninsula to
which the eyes and hearts of all England were so earnestly directed.
So, cheerily! the good ship ploughed its way eastward ho! for Turkey.