The Chronicles of a Gay GordonGordon, J. M. (Joseph Maria)
History
The Chronicles of a Gay Gordon
Gordon, J. M. (Joseph Maria)
Generals -- England -- Biography; Gordon, J. M. (Joseph Maria), 1856-1929
tune was played. The result was fatal to the hopper. A bath in the
fountain followed. The prize was not won that night. And so the frolic
ran on till the early hours of the morning.
I felt somewhat sorry for myself when I turned up next day at the office.
I didn't feel much inclined for work, and I waited patiently for noon to
strike to make my way to the club and a large whisky and soda. Lunch-time
approached. I began to notice that several of the older members were
looking serious and were not so affable as usual. The secretary asked me
to step into his office. I did so. He, too, was looking serious. He told
me that it had been reported to him that I had on my very first visit, as
a member of the club upset the whole place, that my good old friend Mr
Hamilton, who lived at the club, had complained bitterly of the noise and
disturbance, and was going to ask the committee to cancel my election and
practically have me turned out. He himself had been forced to call a
special meeting of the committee to deal with the matter. I sat, quiet
and sad, by the side of the old fountain. Every now and again one of the
chief offenders of the night before would, as he passed me, sympathize
with me in my trouble. My misery did not last long. Two or three members
of the committee entered the secretary's office. Presently the secretary
beckoned me to his office. Round a table sat three members of the
committee. In the centre of the small table was a magnum of champagne and
a small bucket of ice. In silence the glasses were filled up. The oldest
member of the committee, still as serious as a judge, handed me one. They
each helped themselves. Then he spoke: "We have asked you to come here
this morning"--and then a smile came over their faces--"to welcome you to
the club and to say how happy we are that you have got your appointment."
Thus ended my anxiety, and a few minutes later on the magnum of
champagne. I had certainly had my leg pulled.
In view of my duties in connexion with the construction of the new fort I
moved to the Largs Bay Hotel. Standing by itself mid-way between the two
forts at the shore end of the jetty, the hotel had been completed and
opened with much rejoicing. Mr. Hixon was its first manager. No expense
had been spared by the company in making it not only comfortable, but
luxurious. The winter months were just beginning; there was no attraction
to the seaside, and there were but few residents. The monotony of living
there was varied two days each week by the arrival of the inward and
outward bound mail steamers, that was all. But I was too busy to worry
about pleasure; the training of my men at Fort Glanville and the
supervision of the construction of Fort Largs kept me busy five days of
the week. Saturday and Sunday I devoted to sport and pleasure. The polo
season ended with the autumn; hunting began with early winter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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