Passing across the gangway with Commander Nesbitt to the hulk, which
served as a sort of floating hotel for all of us while the _Candahar_
was preparing for sea, officers and men alike sleeping and messing in
her and only going on board our own ship during working hours between
meals, as long as daylight lasted, I found Dr Nettleby, the chief of
our medical staff, with one of his assistants, busily engaged in the
sick bay on the main deck.
They were examining all the new hands who had just joined, to see
whether any of them were suffering from organic disease, or some other
physical infirmity that might incapacitate them for service afloat, none
but the able-bodied being accepted.
The curtained door of the sick bay being open and the cabin itself close
to the main hatchway, which I had necessarily to pass in going below to
the gunroom, I could not help overhearing something of what was
proceeding in the medical sanctum, the more especially from the fact of
Dr Nettleby, the presiding genius, having a short temper and a snappy
manner of expressing himself peculiarly his own.
He was a good-hearted man at the bottom, however, and as tender as a
woman in cases of real suffering; though woe to the malingerer or
shammer of illness who incautiously ventured within reach of his caustic
tongue!
A couple of the cadets who had come on board with me that morning were
standing by the doorway of the sick bay, in company with one of the
older midshipmen and some others; and, seeing these all grinning, as if
enjoying themselves mightily at what was going on within, I joined the
group--the lot of us sheltering ourselves from observation behind a tall
canvas screen that was rigged across the deck amidships, shutting out
the draught from the port-holes fore and aft, besides serving also as an
ante-room to the doctor's cabin and surgery. From this inner apartment
would emerge ever and anon some culprit marine or shamefaced seaman,
trying to walk steady, who, having perhaps been a trifle too jolly
overnight and pleading indisposition as an excuse for his inability to
attend to his duties, had been brought before the doctor for treatment--
only, alas! to receive a dose of pungent satire, in lieu of the soothing
medicine they craved to banish the effects of their drunken spree.
Meanwhile, the new hands who were awaiting their medical examination
were drawn up on the other side of the gangway, "marking time" until
these regular, or rather irregular, patients were disposed of in turn,
no doubt enjoying the fun like ourselves.
"Listen," whispered Larkyns, the senior midshipman, nudging the fellow
next him and winking to me as I came up. "That's Macan, our corporal of
marines, who's getting it now. By Jove, the doctor is giving it him
hot!"
He certainly was, judging from what reached my ears, at least.
"Stuff and nonsense, corporal!" I heard Dr Nettleby rasp out
snappishly, his voice sounding from within the cabin just like a terrier
dog barking, for I could hear him plainly enough. "You can't gammon me,
my man, though you might take in the first lieutenant! It's `rumatism,'
not rheumatism you're suffering from, you scoundrel! You've been
drinking, that's what's the matter with you; and if I report you to the
cap'en, as I ought, you'll not only lose your stripes before sunset, but
get four dozen as well, and serve you right, too!"
"Faith, yer honour, I haven't tasted a dhrop of anythin' barrin' tay
since yesterday noon at Eight Bells. May I die this minnit if I have,
sor," boldly asserted the accused in a rich Irish brogue that was as
distinct as the doctor's voice. "It's the rheumaticks, sure! I've got
'em in the legs bad this toime and can't hould mesilf up at all, nor
walk more than a choild!"
"Macgilpin, just diagnose this case for me," cried the doctor to his
assistant. "What does he smell of?"
"Whuskey," replied the assistant-surgeon, a rawboned expert from
Edinburgh, who had only recently donned Her Majesty's uniform and
brought his north-country accent with him when he came southwards.
"There's nae doot aboot that. He smells o' whuskey, and bad whuskey,
tae!"
"Begorrah, yer nose is wrong, sor, and the doctor's roight, as he always
is, sor, beggin' yer pardon," said the culprit, confessing his offence
in his anxiety to stand up for the medical insight of the chief, with
whom he had served before and whose professional pride he knew how to
work upon. "It was rhum, sure enough."
"You rascal!" shouted out Dr Nettleby. "Why, not a moment ago you
swore you hadn't tasted a drop of anything but tea alone since
yesterday."
"Faith, yer honner, I didn't know it wor rhum till too late, sor. I
sware, sor, I droonk it out av a taypot."
"Out of a teapot, man?"
"Yis, sor, I'll till yer honner how it wor, sure," explained the wily
fellow, who could tell from the doctor's change of tone that his offence
was condoned and that he need fear no worse consequences now than one of
his usual lectures, which only went in at one ear and out at the other,
as Dr Nettleby himself said. "I wint over to the rendywoo last noight
be the cap'en's orders, sor, fur to say if there wor any more hands
awaitin' to jine. Faith an' there I mates me wife's first cousin,
Bridget O'Halloran, as is merried now be the same token to Sargint
Lintstock."
"Sergeant Lintstock?"
"Ay, sor, that same, which makes him, sure, me second cousin once
removed, though, faith, he's me soupayrior orfiser! But, as I were
a-tellin' ye, sor, in comes Bridget whilst I were talkin' to the
jintleman behoind the bar at the rendywoo. I were jist axin' what the
cap'en tells me to axe him; an' `Mike,' says she, cordial like, `have a
partin' glass wid me fur the sake of the ould country as ye're abut to
lave.'
"`Faith an' that's more nor I dare, Bridget,' says I. `I promist the
docthor, sure, I wouldn't touch another dhrop o' sperrits for the nixt
four-an'-twenty hours, as I'm a livin' sinner!'
"`But I don't want ye to dhrink sperrits,' says she. `Me an' me frind
Mistress Wilkins here is jist havin' a cup of tay, sure; an' axes ye to
jine us, that's all!'
"`Faith I'm not the bhoy fur to disobleege the ladies,' says I, `ye can
give us a cup, if that's all ye wants me fur to do.' Wid that, Bridget
ups with the taypot, a little brown one it wor, sure, by the same token,
an' pours me out a cupful in a mug that lay handy sure on the counther,
which I drinks to the hilth of her an' Missis Wilkins as wor standin'
by. It wor right-down beautiful tay; so I has another one to the hilth
of Bridget's husband the sarjint, an' thin another, that wor a little
one faith! to the hilth of the babby; an', begorrah, sor, I rimimbers no
more till this mornin' whin I fales so bad wid the rheumatics as I
couldn't lift me hid out of me hammock. The sarjint says I wor droonk,
but I worn't, sor; though somehows or t'other I thinks it must have been
rhum I wor drinkin' at the rendywoo an' not tay as Bridget telled me at
the toime, sayin' it wor good fur the stummick an' wud kape the cowld
out!"
"I don't believe a word of your story," I heard the doctor answer to
this long and circumstantial yarn. "Why, Macan, you're drunk now!"
"Me droonk now, sor?" repeated the other in a tone of mingled sorrow and
solemnity. "Faith I'm as sobher as a jidge this very minnit, as I'm a
livin' sinner!"
"Don't tell me any more of your lies!" cried out the doctor irascibly at
this juncture, interrupting what further asservation the corporal might
have made in support of his unblushing assertion. "You can go forrud
now and thank your stars I don't report you, as I had more than half a
mind to at first. If I did, you'd be put into the black list and lose
your stripes to a dead certainty."
"May the saints presarve yer honner," exclaimed Macan with effusion as
he was thus dismissed, but he was still not satisfied apparently at his
word being doubted; for, as he passed us, working his way forward by a
series of short tacks, he kept on muttering half aloud, much to our
amusement, "It's all through that blissid Scotch sawbones wid his long
`dog nose' as he calls it, sayin' it wor whisky. I'm as shober as a
jidge, faith--as shober as a jidge!"
No more unfortunate circumstance, however, could have occurred for the
corporal of marines, in spite of the doctor having let him off so
easily, for, through our overhearing this dialogue between the two, the
yarn he had told of meeting his "cousin Bridget" soon got round the
ship, and the men could always put him in a rage whenever they liked by
an allusion to the "taypot" and his cousin's friend "Missis Wilkins."
We stopped a little longer listening outside the sick bay, but soon gave
up the pastime, nothing occurring to interest us during the medical
examination of the new hands, a fresh batch of whom came aft, by the
way, at Four Bells; for all of them were quickly passed by the doctor
and were detailed for duty aloft and below, where many jobs were at a
standstill for want of men.
This enabled the commander to press on with the work of rigging the
ship, the crossjack, or "crochet" yard being sent up by the aid of the
mizzen burton hooked on in front of the top; after which the jack was
slung and the trusses fixed on, the spar brought home to the mast, the
lifts and braces having been fitted before swaying, as is the case with
all the lower yards in men-of-war.
The mizzen-trysail mast, on which the spanker is set, was also got up by
means of the same tackle; and, what with hoisting in some of the main
deck guns and sails and other gear, the afternoon quickly passed.
I was not sorry when dinner-time came, Five Bells in the first dog
watch, for I was pretty well tired to death with this, my first day's
experience on board the _Candahar_, in running up and down the decks
fore and aft as Commander Nesbitt's special messenger. It was, however,
a very good introduction to the life I should have to lead for the next
few years of my career; for, as a junior officer, I would be at the beck
and call of everyone on the quarter-deck and "hardly able to call my
soul my own,"--as Dad had more than once warned me beforehand.
Still, I must say, notwithstanding certain drawbacks, which subsequent
experience brought to light in due course, I liked it all, taking the
rough side of sea life with the smooth, and would not change my lot if I
had the opportunity of making my choice over again, even knowing what I
do now of the service!
My captain I had not as yet seen much of; for, although he came off
every day to sign papers and receive reports, as well as see how things
were going on generally, he lived on shore and did not interfere at all
with Commander Nesbitt, who carried on the work as he pleased.
The latter being a good officer, who thoroughly knew his duty and a
sailor every inch of him, as I have already described, Captain Farmer,
as he probably well understood, could not have done better than thus
leave matters to his second in command while the ship was in harbour.
The Honourable Digby Lanyard, our first lieutenant, was a tall
supercilious young man of five-and-twenty or so who wore an eyeglass.
This was more for effect than from any defect of vision, for he was as
sharp as a needle; and could see a bit of spunyarn adrift or a rope out
of place aloft even quicker than the commander, keen-sighted as he was.
Amongst the men on the lower deck, who have, as a rule, some pet
nickname for most of their officers, especially those whom they may
chance to like or dislike more than the rest, he always went by the
sobriquet of "glass-eye"; and it was wonderful how this dandy chap who
was so particular in his dress and would mince his words in conversation
with his brother officers in the wardroom, speaking with a lisp of
affectation and a languid air as if it were too much trouble to
articulate distinctly, would, when the occasion arose, roar out his
orders in a voice that could be heard from one end of the ship to the
other and make the men skip about, like the young lambs mentioned by the
Psalmist!
As for us youngsters, we dreaded his icy contemptuous stare and his
"haw-haw" manner more than anything.
He seemed to have the power of freezing us with a look should he ever
condescend to notice us at all; but this, fortunately, was very seldom,
the lieutenant being wont to ignore our existence except when he had
reason to call us to account for some neglect of duty, at which times we
disliked more his disdainful glance, accompanied, as it invariably was,
by some cold sarcastic allusion to our shortcomings, than the bullying
and bad language of some of the other officers who were not so refined.
Such at all events was the opinion Dick Andrews and Teddy Allison and
the other cadets had of him, as well as myself; though Fred Larkyns, the
big senior midshipman, who patronised us and whom we all liked, he was
such a jolly fellow and up to all sorts of fun, said we would find
"glass-eye" not half a bad chap "when we came to know him better."
Subsequent events will tell how far Mr Larkyns proved to be right in
this conclusion of his; albeit, we demurred to it at the time that he
propounded it in his dogmatic way, rapping poor little Teddy Allison on
the head with a parallel ruler, which he held in his hand at the moment,
for daring to dispute his oracular assertion on the point and making us
all laugh by a capital imitation of the haughty airs of our pet aversion
and his cynical mode of speech, while in the same breath he took his
part, generous lad that he was!
We were all too busy, however, to notice the various peculiarities and
characteristics of our messmates beyond such as we were brought more
immediately in contact with.
Indeed, we had not time even to settle down on board and know each other
properly; for each day added to our company, increasing the number of
strange faces around us, so that I began to wonder when we would at
length get our requisite complement and finish our apparently endless
task of fitting out.
"It is a long lane that has no turning," though, as the old adage goes;
and so, after three weeks more of enrolling volunteers at Corporal
Macan's favourite "rendywoo," and the hoisting in of many guns and boats
and stores and provisions of all sorts, until the _Candahar_, I thought,
would never contain them all, we finally bent our sails, crossed royal
yards and were declared "ready for sea."
Captain Farmer came on board with "all his bag and baggage" on our
ship's company "turning over" from the old hulk _Blake_, to which we all
bade a long and welcome adieu, all hands being then mustered by
divisions to beat of drum along the upper and lower decks.
We were eight hundred strong, all told; officers and men; bluejackets of
all ratings, and marines; boys and "idlers," as some of the
hardest-worked fellows aboard are somewhat inappropriately designated in
the watch bill, according to nautical etiquette; as motley a collection
at the first start, and yet as fine a set of fellows as you could pick
out in a year's cruise!
These preliminaries being all arranged, we cast off from the hulk late
one November afternoon; and, the dockyard tug _Puffing Billy_ taking us
in tow, proceeded to Spithead, where we anchored in eleven fathoms,
letting out some six shackles of cable, so that we could swing
comfortably with the tide as it flowed in and out of the roadstead.