The Isle of Devils (4 page)

I paused for a moment before I could answer him. “It simply came to me. I recalled the many off-hours that we spent playing cricket. You always preferred to be the bowler, but were never particularly accurate at hitting the wicket. This eventually led me to wonder then why you preferred to bowl. Clearly, it was not because you were the best bowler. Thus, it must have been due to a deficiency as a batsman. And yet, you had a strong arm, and could strike the bowl well. Thus, the problem must have been with your running across the pitch. I then recalled that you had a particular form of running, in which you pronated your feet, rolling your ankles inward and
distributing the weight in your foot medially. That led me to conclude that you did this as a natural way to absorb the shock and stress caused by your lack of arches.”

“Well, it’s a fine piece of reasoning if I don’t say so myself! And it’s spot on too. Once the sword-holders realized my deficiency, they almost drummed me out of the ranks. But eventually cooler heads prevailed, and the medical board realized that while I may never be a regimental surgeon like you, I could nonetheless still be put to good use in one of these rehabilitation hospitals.”

“How has it been?” I inquired politely.

“Well, it is certainly different than treating your average London lady!” Jackson laughed heartily. “There is no dropsy or apoplexy here!”

I shifted in my bed, and noted that I felt much restored. I mentioned this to my friend.

“Ah, yes,” he replied. “I gave you several doses of a paregoric while you were out, and it must be taking its effect.”

“That is wonderful. I do not know how to thank you.”

“No need, no need,” he shrugged modestly. “Do you think that I have forgotten the assistance you gave me during our second year at university? In fact,” his face brightened, “I am going to do you a turn better. You see we have had a terrible outbreak of erysipelas in the last few days, and have far too many men confined for you to stay here.”

I frowned at this unhappy news. “I believe the
Serapis
was continuing on to Portsmouth.”

Jackson shook his head gravely. “The
Serapis
has sailed on without you, I’m afraid. Furthermore, where would you go? Did you think that I forgot that you have no kith or kin in England? You would gravitate to London, and that is no place for a man to recuperate. There is far too much excitement on the streets there. You might fall in with dangerous sorts.”

I was taken aback by his remonstrance and poor opinion of my character, and I have never been one who could easily hide his emotions.

Jackson laughed again when he saw my stricken face. “I jest, Hamish! But I am serious that I think you would recuperate better in a temperate clime. Fortunately for you, the
Malabar
is leaving in three days for Bermuda. I think you will enjoy it there.”

“Bermuda!” I exclaimed happily. “My brother Henry is stationed there!”

“What a propitious coincidence! If you jot down a note to him of your impending arrival, I will ensure that it makes it onto tonight’s mail-boat.” He took a J pen from his chest pocket and ripped a leaf from his notebook, and then handed them to me.

I took them, and then shook my head in ongoing confusion. “But how can I just go to Bermuda? The medical board…”

“Old chap, I
am
the medical board here in Cape Town.” With that Parthian shot, he left me in order to resume his rounds on his other patients, whom he had neglected in order to reminisce with me.   

After contemplating this for a short while, I finally acquiesced to his wisdom, and wrote the note, which was duly dispatched. Who was I to complain of a chance to see my brother again after ten long years? Over the next three days I continued to grow stronger, and by the time I was to be discharged to my ship, I was able to amble around the wards with the aid of the colonel’s Penang lawyer. On the day of my departure, Jackson kindly took time from his schedule in order to accompany me down to the docks.

“Thank you for everything, Jackson!” I said warmly.

“Of course, old chap! It was my greatest pleasure. I should let you know that I plan to retire soon from this business myself. I have met a nice lady, Miss Olive Sanford, whose father is a captain in the Rhodesian police. We have come to an understanding. She has done me the honor of accepting me as a husband in prospective. Once I can obtain my release, we plan to wed and return to London to start up a civil practice,” said he, beaming with joy.

Although my heart ached for Violet, for whom I had once entertained similar thoughts, I nevertheless covered my feelings as best I could and attempted to be happy for my friend. “My congratulations!” cried I, warmly. “That is most splendid news. Then I hope to see you again very soon, when I complete my convalescence. Where should I call upon you? Cavendish Square? Harley Street?”

Jackson laughed. “The citadel of medicine? I am hardly so exalted or so flush with capital as to aim to start up a specialty practice on those hallowed streets. I would have to compete with the likes of Sir Jasper Meek, Penrose Fisher, Sir Leslie Oakshott, or any of the other best men in
London. No, I am compelled to buy into an old-established general practice with my brother-in-law, Anstruther. His brass plate can be found in the Paddington district, on Crawford Place. You cannot miss the red lamp that shines outside. I assure you that there are many other excellent practices nearby. You could purchase one yourself and set up your own consulting-room for a reasonable rent and furnishing expenses! In fact, according to
Anstruther’s
last letter, his neighbor old Farquhar is getting on in years and the St. Vitus Dance is preventing him from seeing patients on many days.”

“I am not so certain of that, Jackson,” said I, my brows knitted. “I think that the public not unnaturally goes on the principle that he who would heal others must himself be whole and looks askance at the curative powers of the doctor whose own case is beyond the reach of his medicines.”

“Tut, tut,” said he. “You were the best doctor in our class. The public recognize quality. They will advertise your virtues and endeavor to send you every sufferer over whom they have the slightest of influence. You will undoubtedly have clients aplenty.”

I nodded my head slowly. “I will think on it. I have not yet decided how I will keep myself occupied once I am fully discharged from the Army.” I reached out my hand and shook his heartily.

And with that, I parted from my old colleague, with every intention of calling upon him after my return to London. Within an hour, I was safely ensconced in my new quarters upon the
HMS Malabar
, ready to embark upon yet another chapter in my adventurous life. Only the future could show just how sensational it was to be.

§

There were certainly no great difficulties in the next stage of my adventure, but I may have been premature in my excitement, as I clearly had little comprehension of the dull monotony that would be the hallmark of that sea voyage. While my time on the
Serapis
was a bit hazy due to the horrible fevers which had wracked my frame, I distinctly recall that we generally hugged the varied coast, which at least allowed for a tableau of some interest. However, once the
Malabar
cleared the great harbor of Cape Town, there was little to look upon, excepting only the never-ending crashing waves of the Atlantic’s wide expanse and an occasional great white bird, a gull or an albatross, soaring aloft in the blue heavens. 

One incident of mild curiosity occurred at the last moment prior to the ship departing from the jetty at Prince Alfred Basin. I had already settled my limited effects into my shared cabin, and was taking advantage of the warm breeze in order to enjoy a few solitary moments upon the deck. Rather than gazing out into the open water, of which I knew I would soon be seeing a great amount, I was standing at the dockside bulwark admiring the aptly-named Table Mountain backdrop when a commotion broke out at the bottom of the nearby gangplank. A curious man was arguing with Mr. Moore, the boatswain, who I had recently met upon my embarkation. The stranger was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some thirty years of age. He had curly blond-hair, with a thin moustache, and hazel eyes that, combined with a strong masculine face, made him appear quite handsome. He was attired in a dark blue pea-jacket with a sage-colored cravat, which gave him a decidedly nautical appearance, though his stride had more of the infantry to it than would be expected in a true sea-man. He had on well-cut gray trousers and brown leather gaiters that that covered the tops of his elastic-sided boots, and all-in-all seemed a dashing fellow, whose showy dress was in strange contrast with his serious expression. In one hand he carried a Gladstone bag, and with his other he pulled at an Albert chain attached to his gold pocket watch. As they spoke, he glanced at it in an irritated fashion.

Only snatches of their argument upon the jetty floated up to where I stood. It appeared that the man was vigorous attempting to board the ship, while the boatswain was indicating in lower tones that the
Malabar
was a troopship.

“But I must get to Bermuda, and I missed the earlier mail-boat by a fraction of an hour. I cannot wait until next week,” the man insisted.

The boatswain continued to block the man’s boarding, until the man produced a set of papers from his bag. Mr. Moore perused these documents for a moment, before finally nodding in grudging agreement. He allowed the man to pass, but I noted that Moore did not salute him, as he had upon my boarding earlier that day. I soon lost interest in the matter and saw little of the curiously-hurried fellow upon our voyage. 

As for the ship itself, the
HMS Malabar
was a fine vessel. Built only fourteen years ago, her iron hull was painted white like her cousins in the
Euphrates
class, but she seemed slightly smaller than my recollections of the
Serapis
, though the smell of the sails’ tarred twine baking in the heat of the midday sun was identical. Since my small cabin felt a little close, and having decided that the best way to recover my strength was to perform at least a modicum of exercise every day, I spent several hours slowly pacing her decks until my limbs were weary and stiff. By this method I eventually determined that the ship was roughly three hundred feet long and just shy of fifty feet in breath from port to starboard. She could carry up to twelve hundred troops in a state of relative comfort, at least as gauged by a soldier. The
Malabar
was propelled by a single screw to what Master Billy later swore was a speed of fourteen knots. A solitary funnel puffed away the black coal smoke from its trunk engine. The barque-rig sail plan of its three masts supplemented the engine’s power from the winds of the Atlantic. A ram bow projected forward from below the waterline, and three small four-pounder guns could be used to repel any undesired attentions. She was named, of course, for the long and narrow coastline of the Indian continent southwest of Bombay, the city where I had disembarked only a few hectic months before. Despite the wounds I had ruefully acquired while on campaign in the East, I still felt that it was a more auspicious appellation than my prior ship, named as it was after a long-forgotten Greco-Egyptian deity.

Our only ports of call during that lonely crossing to Bermuda were at the infamous isle of St. Helena and later at its far less famous sister, Ascension Island. We did not pause long enough at St. Helena for the troops to disembark, so I contented myself with gazing upon the volcanic
island’s barren coast, and forest-covered center. I attempted to secure a view of Longwood House, the former abode of the world’s most famous exile. As far as I knew, the only places in the British Empire that had been given in perpetuity to our rival French government was that house and the nearby Valley of the Willows that had held the former Emperor’s tomb for almost twenty years. Unfortunately, Longwood was far too inland for me to view, even with the aid of my excellent field-glass. Nonetheless, this voyage endowed me with the comprehension of the vast tract of ocean that separated St. Helena from any other lands upon the globe. I finally understood why no loyal patriot had ever endeavored to rescue Napoleon and commence a second Hundred Days and Waterloo. All in all, it seemed a far safer locale than Elba, which a strong swimmer could reach in a day’s outing from Livorno.