Young Tom Bowling Part 3

"Ha, Bowling, so you've pa.s.sed your schooling all right, my lad, eh?" he said to me. "I thought you'd manage to pull through, somehow or other; and you, too, young shaver--you with that fine pair of flesh-coloured stockings on, I mean! I can't quite make out your name here from the writing. It looks like 'Damerum,' or 'Dunekin,' or 'Donkeyvan,' or something of that sort! What do you call yourself, my lad, when you're at home, eh?"

"Donovan, sor," promptly answered my friend the ragged boy without any covering to his feet, whom, of course, he was addressing. "Me name's Mick Donovan, sor."

"An Irishman, eh?"

"No, sor; Oi'm an Oitalian, yer honour."

The master-at-arms burst out laughing, for really the devil-me-care chap's brogue was strong enough to have hung a kettle full of potatoes on it. Even the ship's corporal could not help smiling, though in the presence of his superior officer.

"Nonsense, boy, don't you try to gammon me," cried the master-at-arms, as soon as he was able to speak. "An Italian from the county Cork, I'm thinking!"

"Oi'm that same, yer honour," protested the other, as grave as a judge.

"Me fayther came over here harvestin' last summer, sor, an' turned organ-grinder; an' now, sure, he's an Oitalian."

"Was it him that signed this paper?" asked the master-at-arms, when he was able to control his speech again after a second burst of merriment at the Irish boy's droll way of expressing himself, and comical look.

"I s'pose it's his new foreign style of writing and spelling that prevented my making out your name at first?"

"Sure, sor, he wanted the praste fur to soign it," said the other in his racy brogue. "But Father Maloney said he'd be persecuted for bigummy if he did it, an' he'd have fur to do it himsilf; an' so, bad cess to it, fayther stuck the ind of his dhudeen in the ink-bottle, I'll take me oath, sor, an' soigned his name thare, sor, jist whare ye say it, wid his own hand, as Oi'm a livin' sinner!"

"Well, well, Donovan, that's enough. I'll take your word for it," said the master-at-arms, anxious to get rid of him, feeling his gravity giving way again. "But you'll first have to pa.s.s your medical examination, my lad, before you can join the ship. Corporal, take all three of them to the doctor in the sick-bay, at once!"

With that, the lot of us started off, in company with the corporal.

CHAPTER THREE.

I BECOME AN "UNCLOTHED BOY!"

"Look sharp, my lads!" sang out after us the master-at-arms, or "Jaunty"

as he is always called on board ship. "The sick-bay's away there forrud on the starboard side; and if you're spry and pa.s.s the doctor soon, before the bugle sounds for 'cooks to their messes,' why, you'll be able to eat your first meal at Her Majesty's expense, my lads, afore you're a day older."

"Faith an' sure," rejoined our ragged comrade Mick Donovan innocently enough, as we hurried along the middle deck towards the fore part of the ship, under the tutelage of the corporal, "I'll pa.s.s the gintleman aisy an' civilly if he ounly comes foreninst me an' gives me a chance, begorrah, to go by him!"

The corporal sn.i.g.g.e.red at this audibly, not being any longer in the presence of his superior officer the master-at-arms, and therefore not now bound in the interests of discipline to repress his emotions; and, in another minute, pushing aside a red curtain that hung in front of the open door of a cabin on the starboard side, forward of the galley, where there was an appetising smell of cookery going on that made my friend Mick sniff approvingly and wink at me, our conductor led the three of us into the doctor's quarters, or hospital of the ship, nautically styled the sick-bay.

Here, the sick-berth steward, distinguished by a red-cross badge within a circlet of gold on his arm, took us in tow, the corporal handing him our papers, which he in turn handed to the doctor, who was in the usual undress uniform of an officer, a thin line of red braid interlarded between the rows of gold lace on the cuff of his tunic sleeve betokening his special medical rank.

This gentleman was seated at a writing-table in a larger cabin amidships, opening out of the first apartment; and here I noticed there were a couple of hospital cots rigged up at the farther end, for the treatment, no doubt, of any urgent cases, such as a fall from aloft or other mishap which might happen on board the ship, prior to the removal of the patients to Haslar, which lay within convenient reach up the creek opposite.

The doctor looked up on our entrance from what seemed suspiciously like a copy of one of the daily journals, which he had been apparently studying with great interest; but, of course, I might have been mistaken.

He was a pleasant, easy-going gentleman, I thought; and when I spoke about him subsequently to father, he said he was probably like most of the 'sawbones' he had met with in his time in the Navy--"chaps as wouldn't let their sense of duty ever fret their minds too much!"

I could not help seeing now, that, though the steward held out our papers to him, he did not take the trouble to stretch out his hand for them; allowing the man to lay them on the table before him when he was tired of holding them out.

"Oh, that you, Trimmens?" he said languidly, as if he were too tired almost to get out the sentence, though he had a nice, agreeable voice.

"What! You don't mean to say you've brought in another batch of boys to be examined?"

"Yes, sir," replied the sick-berth steward, opening his mouth, and closing it again with a sort of snap, and uttering the two words as one.

"Three of 'em now, sir!"

"Why, that makes the fourth lot this morning!" exclaimed the other plaintively. "The ship'll be chock-full if they keep on coming in like this. Only at the beginning of the month, too!"

"Yes, sir," agreed the steward. "Shall I make a start with 'em, sir?"

"Oh yes, carry on, Trimmens," said the doctor, looking at his watch, and then sitting bolt upright in his chair with more alertness than he had yet displayed. "But, by Jove, you must look sharp! It's close on lunch time, and we haven't much time to spare."

"Yes, sir," answered the sick-berth steward in the same snappy, mechanical way; and then, turning to us, he said, "Which of ye came first, boys?"

"Me, zur," replied 'Ugly,' stepping forwards. "I were first aboard this mornin'; an', by rights, I comes first."

"Boys have no rights in the Navy, or wrongs either if they behave themselves properly," observed the doctor, giving my joker a 'snop' for his b.u.mptiousness. "What's your name?"

"Reeks," replied 'Ugly,' a bit abashed. "My name be Moses Reeks, zur."

"Leeks?"

"No-a, zur, Reeks. We spells it with a 'har,' double 'he,' and a 'k'

and a 'hess,' zur."

"Oh, all right, Reeks; but it looks uncommonly like Leeks on your paper here; and I thought you were a Welshman," said the doctor, smiling at his queer Hampshire p.r.o.nunciation; for some of the chaps down our way speak just as badly as the c.o.c.kneys in the east end of London, especially those coming from the country part beyond Cosham and Fareham.

"Now, strip off your clothes to the waist, Reeks, and you, Trimmens, just take his chest measurement, please. You need not take off your trousers, boy!"

He added this caution in the nick of time, for 'Ugly' appeared about to peel off everything, to his naked pelt!

The sick-berth steward then proceeded to put a tape-measure round his body, just under the armpits, compa.s.sing his chest.

"He's just the regulation, sir," he said, after inspecting the measure.

"Thirty-one inches, sir, exactly."

The doctor looked at Reeks's papers again.

"Ah, yes, all right, his age is under sixteen, I see," said he. "Just test his height, Trimmens."

The sick-bay steward took Reeks to the bulkhead opposite, where was a standard for measurement, the same as they keep in barrack-rooms.

"He's five feet two, sir," he called out--"to a h'inch, sir."

"All right, that'll do," said the doctor. "I don't think Mr Reeks will grow much more, though; he's too thickset. Get me my stethoscope, Trimmens, and I'll sound his lungs and heart."

The doctor's examination appeared satisfactory, for he made a note on 'Ugly's' papers; and he was then made to hop across the cabin on each foot alternately and swing from a hook suspended to the deck above with either hand; after which his sight was tested, to see whether he could distinguish colours at a distance, besides being made pick out variously formed letters placed six feet or so away from him. The ordeal was completed with an inquiry as to the state of his bowels!

"You'll do all right," said the doctor, signing his papers to show he had complied with the requirements of the service. "Next boy!"

This, of course, was Mick Donovan, who gave out his name clearly enough; but, on the order being given him to strip, he seemed somewhat abashed, as if reluctant to comply with this request.

The doctor, very kindly, I thought, seemed to antic.i.p.ate the poor lad's reason for hesitating.