Mr. Midshipman Glover, R.N.: A Tale of the Royal Navy of To-dayJeans, T. T. (Thomas Tendron)
General
Mr. Midshipman Glover, R.N.: A Tale of the Royal Navy of To-day
Jeans, T. T. (Thomas Tendron)
Adventure stories; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Fiction; Seafaring life -- Fiction
"There you are, nearly five hundred of them, men in the navy, army, and
from every corner of the world."
"I didn’t know there were so many fools on earth," growled the Doctor.
"To whom are you going to give the opportunity of being drowned or blown
up?"
"Oh, I’m not going to select them. I leave that job to my principal
medical officer."
"What idiot have you managed to get hold of to do that?"
"You, old chap," replied Helston, slapping him on the shoulder; "you
were the very first to volunteer."
"I!" said the Doctor angrily. "Why, I’d as soon think of volunteering
for a trip to the moon!"
"Can’t help that, Doc; you told me that night at Fareham, when you were
in such a bad temper, that you would come with me if I got a ship, and
here’s your commission made out—’all belong ploper, savez’. Come on,
old fellow, don’t leave me in the lurch; come and have another look at
China. We will look in at our old places in Japan and fancy ourselves
young again. I’ll make you as comfortable as you possibly can be on
board a ship."
"Well, you have played a trick on me," answered the Doctor, after he had
stamped and fumed about the room, "and if you were not steeped in fever
and ague, I would see you at Jericho first; but I’ll see you safely
through this foolery—more for Milly’s sake, though, than for yours, you
sly brute."
"I knew you’d come, Doc; you aren’t doing yourself any good moping down
at Fareham, and the practice can manage itself pretty well, can’t it?
You’ll get fleet-surgeon’s pay, and Jenkins will be able to look after
us both."
So this being settled, the two men discussed plans far into the night.
On the way to Newcastle next morning, and as the train was leaving
King’s Cross, a man jumped hurriedly into their carriage, his bags were
thrown after him, and the door slammed violently.
"I’m sort of intruding," he said, by way of introduction and apology.
He was a young and very handsome man, typically American from the long
hair brushed off his forehead to his long pointed boots, his Western
accent very strong and nasal.
"Guess you two ain’t lived all your lives on land. I’ve been six years
in the United States navy, and can spot a navy man like a pointer."
"Yes, we are both in the navy," answered Helston, smiling.
"There you are; you Britishers always call _your_ navy _the_ navy. Why,
our American ships—ship for ship—would give ’em all points and knock
spots out of them. We ain’t got so many just now, but we’re just
scurrying around, and we’ve got the iron and the brains, and Congress
will find the dollars. I’m quit of the navy. The guv’nor curled up and
left me a pile, so I just sent in my commission and been enjoying myself
ever since—that’s four years ago next fall. Going out to China in a few
weeks—shake up the oil business. The old man was in oil—see! Ever been
in China—Asiatic station we call it—and met the old _Monocacy_?"
"Twice," said Helston, much amused.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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