Medical Life in the Navy

At the hour appointed I was immediately conducted into the presence of the august assembly of examiners, and this, is what I saw, or rather, this was the picture on my retina, for to see, in the usual acceptation of the term, was, under the circumstances, out of the question: – A table with a green cover, laid out for a feast – to me a ghastly feast – of reason and flow of soul. My reason was to form the feast, my soul was to flow; the five pleasant-looking and gentlemanly men who sat around were to partake of the banquet. I did not walk into the room, I seemed to glide as if in a dream, or as if I had been my own ghost. Every person and every thing in the room appeared strangely contorted; and the whole formed a wonderful mirage, miraculously confused. The fire hopped up on the table, the table consigned itself to the flames at one moment, and made an insane attempt to get up the chimney the next. The roof bending down in one corner affectionately kissed the carpet, the carpet bobbing up at another returned the chaste salute. Then the gentlemen smiled on me pleasantly, while I replied by a horrible grin.

“Sit down, sir,” said one, and his voice sounded far away, as if in another world, as I tottered to the chair, and with palsied arm helped myself to a glass of water, which had been placed on the table for my use. The water revived me, and at the first task I was asked to perform – translate a small portion of Gregory’s (not powder) Conspectus into English – my senses came back. The scales fell from my eyes, the table and fire resumed their proper places, the roof and carpet ceased to dally, my scattered brains came all of a heap once more, and I was myself again as much as ever Richard was, or any other man. I answered most of the questions, if not all. I was tackled for ten minutes at a time by each of the examiners. I performed mental operations on the limbs of beings who never existed, prescribed hypothetically for innumerable ailments, brought divers mythical children into the world, dissected muscles and nerves in imagination, talked of green trees, fruit, flowers, natural families, and far-away lands, as if I had been Linnaeus, Columbus, and Humboldt all in one, so that, in less than an hour, the august body leant their backs against their respective chairs, and looked knowingly in each other’s faces for a period of several very long seconds. They then nodded to one another, did this august body, looked at their 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.”