only junior assistant surgeon, but I waslikewise head surgeon, and chief of the whole medical department, andthe whole of that department consisted of--never a soul but myself. Aswe had only ninety men all told, the Admiralty couldn't afford a medicalofficer of higher standing than myself. I was ably assisted, however,in my arduous duties, which, by the way, occupied me very nearly half anhour every morning, after, not before, breakfast, by the loblolly boy"Sugar o' Lead." I don't suppose he was baptised Sugar o' Lead. Idon't think it is likely ever he was baptised at all. This younggentleman used to make my poultices, oatmeal they were made of, ofcourse--I'm a Scot. But Sugar o' Lead always put salt in them, ate onehalf and singed the rest. He had also to keep the dispensary clean,which he never did, but he used to rub the labels off the bottles, threeat a time, and stick them on again, but usually on the wrong bottles.This kept me well up in my pharmacy; but when one day I gave a man adose of powder of jalap, instead of Gregory, Sugar o' Lead havingchanged the labels, the man said "it were a kinder rough on him." Sugaro' Lead thought he knew as much as I, perhaps; but Epsom salts andsulphate of zinc, although alike in colour, are very different in theireffects when given internally. Sugar o' Lead had a different opinion.Another of the duties which devolved upon Sugar o' Lead was to clean upafter the dogs. At this he was quite at home. At night he slept withthe monkeys. Although the old cockatoo couldn't stand him, Sugar o'Lead and the monkeys were on very friendly terms; they lived together onthat great and broad principle which binds the whole of this mightyworld of ours together, the principle of "You favour me to-day and I'llfavour you to-morrow." Sugar o' Lead and the monkeys acted upon it inquite the literal sense.
At Symon's Town, I was in the habit of constantly going on shore toprospect, gun in hand, over the mountains. Grand old hills these are,too, here and there covered with bush, with bold rocky bluffs abuttingfrom their summits, their breasts bedecked with the most gorgeousgeraniums, and those rare and beautiful heaths, which at home you canonly find in hot-houses.
My almost constant attendant was a midshipman, a gallant youngScotchman, whom you may know by the name of Donald McPhee, though I knewhim by another.
The very first day of our many excursions "in the pursuit of game," wewere wading through some scrub, about three or four miles from theshore, when suddenly my companion hailed me thus: "Look-out, doctor,there's a panther yonder, and he's nearest you."
So he was; but then he wasn't a panther at all, but a very largePointer. I shouldn't like to say that he was good enough for the showbench; he was, however, good enough for work. Poor Panther, doubtlesshe now rests with his fathers, rests under the shadow of some of themighty mountains, the tartaned hills, over which he and I used to wanderin pursuit of game. On his grave green lizards bask, and wildcinerarias bloom, while over it glides the shimmering snake; but thepoor, faithful fellow blooms fresh in my memory still. I think I becamehis special favourite. Perhaps he was wise enough to admire theHighland dress I often wore. Perhaps he thought, as I did, that of allcostumes, that was the best one for hill work. But the interest he tookin everything I did was remarkable. He seemed rejoiced to see me when Ilanded, as betokened by the wagging tail, the lowered ears, slightlyelevated chin, and sparkling eye--a canine smile.
"Doctor," he seemed to say, "I was beginning to think you weren'tcoming. But won't we have a day of it, just?"
And away we would go, through the busy town and along the sea beach,where the lisping wavelets broke melodiously on sands of silvery sheen,where many a monster medusa lay stranded, looking like huge umbrellasmade of jelly, and on, and on, until we came to a tiny stream, up whoserocky banks we would scramble, skirting the bush, and arriving at lastat the great heath land. We followed no beaten track, we went here,there, and everywhere. The scenery was enchantingly wild and beautiful,and there was health and its concomitant happiness in every breeze.Sometimes we would sit dreamily on a rock top, Panther and I, for anhour at a time, vainly trying to drink in all the beauties of the scene.How bright was the blue of the distant sea! How fleecy the cloudlets!How romantic and lovely that far-off mountain range, its rugged outlinesoftened by the purple mists of distance! These everlasting mountainswe could people with people of our own imagination. I peopled them withforeign fairies. Panther, I think, peopled them with rock rabbits.Weary at last with gazing on the grandeur everywhere around us, we wouldrivet our attention for a spell upon things less romantic--bloater pasteand sea biscuit. I shared my lunch with Panther.
Panther was most civil and obliging; he not only did duty as a pointerand guide, but he would retrieve as well, rock rabbits and rats, andsuch; and as he saw me bag them, he would look up in my face as much asto say--
"Now aren't you pleased? Don't you feel all over joyful? Wouldn't youwag a tail if you had one? I should think so."
Panther wouldn't retrieve black snakes.
"No," said Panther, "I draw the line at black snakes, doctor."
I would fain have taken him to sea with me, as he belonged to no one;but Panther said, "No, I cannot go."
"Then good-bye, dear friend," I said.
"Farewell," said Panther.
And so we parted.
He looked wistfully after the boat as it receded from the shore. Ibelieve, poor fellow, he knew he would never see me again.
Conceive, if you can, of the lonesomeness, the dreariness of going tosea without a dog. But as Panther wouldn't come with me, I had to sailwithout him. As the purple mountains grew less and less distinct, andshades of evening gathered around us, and twinkling lights from rockypoints glinted over the waters, I could only lean over the taffrail andsing--
"Happy land! happy land! Who would leave the glorious land?"
Who indeed? but sailor-men must. And now darkness covers the ocean, andhides the distant land, and next we were out in the midst of just asrough a sea as any one need care to be in. My only companion at thisdoleful period of my chequered career was a beautiful white pigeon.Here is how I came by him. Out at the Cape, in many a little rockynook, and by many a rippling stream, grow sweet flowerets that comebeautifully out in feather work. Feather-flower making then was one ofmy chief delights and amusements; the art had been taught me by a youngfriend of mine, whose father grew wine and kept hunters(jackal-hunting), and had kindly given me "the run" of the house.Before leaving, on the present cruise, I had secured some particularlybeautiful specimens of flowers, too delicate to be imitated by anything,save the feathers of a pigeon; so I had bought a pure white one, which Ihad ordered to be killed and sent off.
"Steward," I cried, as we were just under weigh, "did a boy bring awhite pigeon for me?"
"He did, sir; and I put it in your cabin in its basket, which I had togive him sixpence extra for."
"But why," said I, "didn't you tell him to put his nasty old basket onhis back and take it off with him?"
"Because," said the steward, "the bird would have flown away."
"Flown away!" I cried. "Is the bird alive then?"
"To be sure, sir," said the steward.
"To be sure, you blockhead," said I; "how can I make feather-flowersfrom a live pigeon?"
The man was looking at me pityingly, I thought.
"Can't you kill it, sir? Give him to me, sir; I'll Wring his neck in abrace of shakes."
"You'd never wring another neck, steward," I said; "you'd lose thenumber of your mess as sure as a gun."
When I opened the basket, knowing what rogues nigger-boys are, I fullyexpected to find a bird with neither grace nor beauty, and about thecolour of an old white clucking hen. The boy had not deceived me,however. The pigeon was a beauty, and as white as a Spitzbergensnow-bird. Out he flew, and perched on a clothes-peg in my bulkhead,and said--
"Troubled wi' you. Tr-rooubled with you."
"You'll need," said I, "to put up with the trouble for six months tocome, for we're messmates. Steward," I continued, "your fingers ain'titching, are they, to kill that lovely creature?"
"Not
they," said the fellow; "I wouldn't do it any harm for the world."
"There's my rum bottle," I said; "it always stands in that corner, andit is always at your service while you tend upon the pigeon."
The cruise before, we had a black cat on board, that the sailors lookedupon as a bird of evil omen, for we got no luck, caught no slavers, ranthree times on shore, and were once on fire. This cruise, we had lotsof prize-money, and never a single mishap, and the men put it all downto "the surgeon's pet," as they called my bird. He was a pet, too. Imade him a nest in a leathern