We walked through shops where belts and pulleys and wheels and cogs
flapped and whirled and ground in ceaseless concert, shops where
files rasped and hammers rang, shops again where all seemed riot and
confusion at the first glance, but at a second showed itself ordered
confusion, as it were. And as we went, my Captain spoke of the hospital
bay, of wards and dispensary (lately enlarged) of sister and nurses
and the grand work they were doing among the employees other than
attending to their bodily ills; and talking thus, he brought me to
the place, a place of exquisite order and tidiness, yet where nurses,
blue-uniformed, in their white caps, cuffs and aprons, seemed to me
the neatest of all. And here I was introduced to Sister, capable,
strong, gentle-eyed, who told me something of her work--how many came
to her with wounds of soul as well as body; of griefs endured and
wrongs suffered by reason of pitiful lack of knowledge; of how she
was teaching them care and cleanliness of minds as well as bodies,
which is surely the most blessed heritage the unborn generations may
inherit. She told me of the patient bravery of the women, the chivalry
of grimy men, whose hurts may wait that others may be treated first.
So she talked and I listened until, perceiving the Captain somewhat
ostentatiously consulting his watch, I presently left that quiet haven
with its soft-treading ministering attendants.
So we had tea and cigarettes, and when I eventually shook hands with my
Captain, I felt that I was parting with a friend.
"And what struck you most particularly this afternoon?" enquired one of
my companions.
"Well," said I, "it was either the Lewis gun or Paterfamilias the grim."
IV.
CLYDEBANK.
Henceforth the word "Clydebank" will be associated in my mind with the
ceaseless ring and din of riveting-hammers, where, day by day, hour by
hour, a new fleet is growing, destroyers and torpedo-boats alongside
monstrous submarines--yonder looms the grim bulk of Super-dreadnought
or battle-cruiser or the slenderer shape of some huge liner.
And with these vast shapes about me, what wonder that I stood awed
and silent at the stupendous sight. But, to my companion, a shortish,
thick-set man, with a masterful air and a bowler hat very much over
one eye, these marvels were an every day affair; and now, ducking
under a steel hawser, he led me on, dodging moving trucks, stepping
unconcernedly across the buffers of puffing engines, past titanic
cranes that swung giant arms high in the air; on we went, stepping over
chain cables, wire ropes, pulley-blocks and a thousand and one other
obstructions, on which I stumbled occasionally since my awed gaze was
turned upwards. And as we walked amid these awesome shapes, he talked,
I remember, of such futile things as--books.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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