‘It’s not that, Doctor,’ said the boy, he was quite a kid, ‘but the dirty Protestants had it over us that the old doctor went to the ball as a holy father, so one way and another there was trouble.’
At that Father Glennie sailed into him, and I ticked off the C. of E. chaps who had started the argument, and I strapped up Casey’s cut. It was at the back and wouldn’t show much.
‘Now keep your fists to yourself, Casey,’ I said, ‘and I’ll promise you a real good fight before we get to Fremantle.’
He was delighted, and shook hands and went away grinning from ear to ear.
That afternoon young Dick had to fall off something on the boat deck — I wasn’t there when he had the fall, but the kid was always climbing somewhere he had no call to be — and was a bit sick. Only very mild concussion, and he was as fit as a fiddle in a couple of days. But Mrs Jerry got the wind well and truly up about him, and spent the evening in the cabin, which was why she missed all the fun. We were due at Colombo early next morning and everyone feels restless the last night before a landfall. There was something going on below too, but I couldn’t yet find out what. However, I had my spies out, Higgins and one or two others, and I thought I’d probably get a line on any mischief that was about. Mrs Henley and Smith were sitting together on the boat deck all day. He was doing all the talking as usual, and she said hardly anything. I said that the night before they were dancing together in that doped sort of way. Well, I didn’t mention it at the time, but I had thought more than once that he was a dope-bug. You know the look they have. But I hardly knew the fellow, and what with my work, and worrying about the men below, and trying not to let on to Celia that there was anything to worry about, I hadn’t any time to spare for Smith. And I couldn’t have done anything if I had. I didn’t want Celia to get scared about things, though Lord knows there was plenty to get scared about. I am a reserved kind of chap in many ways, but I have very deep feelings and one of them is a very deep appreciation of my little missis. She is everything to me, and she has been a real little pal all through.
The diggers’ dance was timed for eight o’clock. In view of conditions below Colonel Picking had an idea of stopping it, thinking the men might be inclined to be a bit obstreperous, but he was persuaded not to do such a damn silly thing. The digger may be a bit rough, but where women are concerned he is a real gentleman at heart, and I knew the boys wouldn’t let us down that evening if the officers’ wives went to the dance. Higgins told me their committee had made a raid on the men’s cabins and confiscated any beer they found till after the dance. The diggers grumbled a bit, but agreed they ought to put up a good show for the ladies, so I did not anticipate much trouble.
The officers mostly were in the smoke-room that evening, as they weren’t wanted at the dance. We had a men’s bridge tournament going on, and a whist drive, and there was the usual poker school, and some N.C.O.’s who had got commissions were playing euchre, and you couldn’t get a pin between the tables. I was playing bridge that night, so I missed the beginning of the fun, but Celia who was there from the jump told me the parts I missed. The diggers had a wonderful evening arranged, with artistic hand-painted programmes and refreshments. We had some fine artists among the men, several of whom had contributed to various A.I.F. papers, and some were real painters in civil life, doing caricatures and landscapes, etc., with no difficulty. The dances were waltzes, foxtrots, the Valeta and the Circassian circle. The Valeta is a pretty and graceful dance, though not much known out of non-commissioned circles. The officers’ wives were very keen to learn, and the diggers enjoyed teaching them. It is a bit like the Barn Dance and a bit like the Washington Post, and a bit like a waltz, and when well danced is very effective. The only snag was the heat of the evening, which caused the diggers to be a bit damp. Some were dancing in their tunics and some in their shirts, but the general effect was the same, and it was a messy one. Celia said she couldn’t do otherwise than be pleased when she saw Miss Johnson in a pea-green frock with the back all smeared with the marks where her partner’s strong and perspiring arm had been round her. You would say those diggers had never sweated before, the way they came off on everything that night. Celia, who is a sensible kid, had on a sort of silk affair that could be washed and a pair of white silk gloves she happened to have with her, otherwise her frock would have been in a similar case to that of Miss Johnson. I must say that the idea of that old tabby dressing up in a pea-green frock and getting it spoilt by the licentious soldiery appealed greatly to my sense of humour.
Mrs Jerry’s nurse was there, looking very smart with some rouge she had borrowed from Mrs Dicky. She would only dance with sergeants and corporals. This was all right as long as they had their tunics on, but when they appeared in their shirt-sleeves she was a bit at a loss. One of the diggers, a greasy young Wop called Alameda, who the boys called Macaroni by way of fun, kidded her he was an N.C.O. and got three dances. But though much upset when his cobbers gave the show away, she forgave him because he was an Italian. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t, because all the Wops in Melbourne where he came from are Sicilians. His people had the Alameda Fruit Palace somewhere in St Kilda and were quite well off.
Well, about ten o’clock the diggers sent word into the smoke-room they hoped Mr Anderson would come and see the dance, and judge which was the best couple in the Valeta. Nancy had been losing steadily at poker, so he was quite pleased for an excuse to get out. Hardly was he gone when my surgery orderly came to the door and stood looking for me. Thinking there was a casualty below I went to the door. He said the committee sent an invitation to all officers to go round to the other end of the starboard deck, as there was a surprise for them. Some of the officers thought it a bit too free, but on the whole we decided to go. Colonel Picking and Major Barrett with a couple more stayed behind, which was just as well, as old Picking would have passed out if he had seen what happened.
A whole crowd of us went aft, some to the end of the deck, and some to the door just outside the lounge which opened on to the starboard side, of which I was one. The band were striking up for the Valeta, when who should come up the deck but the strange girl. My word, she was a beaut. She was dressed just like the night before, with a kind of shining scarf affair round her neck. All the diggers got quite quiet suddenly as she came up within a few feet of where I was standing and turned to Anderson who was leaning against the rail.
‘Oh, you naughty man,’ she said, and her voice was a kind of a shock, for it was not a pretty one and not quite refined, ‘where is my garter?’
If Anderson felt as silly as he looked, he must have felt pretty silly. ‘Let me see if it’s in your pocket, dear,’ said the girl.
She lifted her arms, lovely white arms they were too, and went for Anderson but he ducked and ran over to us, quite pale and upset.
‘Oh, Tom, do do something,’ said Celia, grabbing at me. But I told her to be quiet for a moment. The girl turned round, facing all us officers and said in a quite different voice:
‘Have I won the stakes, boys?’
And she took off her golden hair and someone gave her a cigarette. Of course I had seen the piece of strapping on her neck when she lifted her arms, and the scarf fell off a bit, so I had tumbled to it, but I wasn’t going to give the show away. When Casey took his golden wig off, there was such a noise that they might have heard us at Colombo. He had been a female impersonator in a famous concert party in France, and I’ve never seen a better get-up. Hair, eyes, figure, hands, feet, he would have deceived anyone. There was only the voice that gave one a bit of a shock, but after all a pretty girl sometimes has a quite common voice.
If Anderson hadn’t been such a conceited little runt, we would have been sorry for him, but there was hardly a soul on board who had a good word for him. He pushed through and made for his cabin. We were all laughing till we were nearly sick, and what made it all the funnier was that the women couldn’t understand what had happened. No one let out to them about Andy’s behaviour i
n the smoke-room the previous night, so they hadn’t an idea what the joke was. Every married man had to turn in early that night and tell his missis all about it.
It was about at this time that Casey took off his stockings, saying he couldn’t keep them up without the garter Captain Anderson had stolen, and began to imitate a dancing girl in Cairo, at which point we very regretfully took the ladies into the lounge and passed the word to Casey to continue his performance further forward. It was the first time I’d wished I wasn’t married, and you can take it that the other married officers shared my regrets.
Of course a lot of them said they had spotted Casey from the jump, but weren’t giving him away. Well, the Lord loves a cheerful liar. I just looked into the smoke-room before turning in.
‘Did everything go off all right, Doctor?’ asked old Picking.
‘First rate, sir,’ I said. ‘Captain Anderson was the life of the party.’
Those who were not on deck said they would have given a month’s pay not to have missed Andy’s face. In an ordinary way the whole ship would have talked of nothing else for a week, but on the following day we came to Colombo, and there we had our troubles which completely made us forget Nancy’s.
7 – The Digger isn’t a bad Chap
Next morning we woke up to find ourselves at Colombo. It was a bonzer day, and all were looking forward to getting on shore and having a decent meal for once, and perhaps a real bed. For ship’s food is not the same as shore food, and after going through the galley several times you lose your relish for some things. However, what doesn’t sicken will fatten, and if the cooks wouldn’t wear their white caps in the hot weather, it is hardly to be surprised at. Considering there was no refrigerating plant we had done pretty well, and there was very little suspicion of a taint about the meat. We were to get a lot of fresh stuff on at Colombo, fruit and so forth, and I was looking forward to giving my babies a treat.
The notice was posted up after breakfast that shore leave would be given to all officers except such as were on the roster for duty. The diggers were to take it in turn to go on shore, always leaving a sufficient guard for the prisoners. Most of the men had been to Colombo before, and looked forward to a happy time in the bazaars. Ever since the row about the wind-shoots Celia had chummed up with the Reverend Brown and his wife, and they had asked us to join them. It seemed he had been a missionary there for some time, and they both knew the lingo and said they could help us to do our shopping cheap. I wanted to go out to the Galle Face for the night, but the padre had to stay at the G.O.H. because he was expecting some of his old pals and pupils. Mrs Jerry wouldn’t leave young Dick, who was still a bit under the weather, and Jerry was on duty. Jerry said he didn’t care anyway if he never saw another nigger again. So I and Celia, and the Browns with their three kids, and the Howes, arranged to do some sightseeing together.
Before we went on shore Higgins asked if he could see me. I had him in my cabin, because old Bird was in the surgery. He had offered to stay on the ship so I could take Celia on shore, a kindness which was much appreciated by us. He also shared Jerry’s views about niggers.
‘I thought I’d better let you know, sir,’ said Higgins, ‘that the prisoners are all going on shore.’
‘The hell they are,’ I said. ‘Does the Colonel know?’
‘I don’t know, sir,’ said Higgins, ‘but I wouldn’t trouble him, sir. He can’t stop them, so he’d better not know anything about it.’
‘Well, this isn’t my pigeon,’ I said, ‘I’m only a doctor. But I would like to know a bit more about what is happening.’
So Higgins told me a long story. It seems the prisoners had been making such nasty remarks about what they would do to the guard when they got out, that the guard had told them they could go to hell their own way. There had been quite a little turn-up about it the night before, after the dance, the prisoners saying they’d chuck theguard overboard the first chance they got, the guard arguing that having survived Gallipoli and France, they were not now seeking a watery grave. Hence the guards unlocked the cells, and Cavanagh and his pals promptly chucked the keys into the Indian Ocean. There hadn’t been any trouble yet. The jailbirds were as pleased as Larry to be out again, and after borrowing some cigarettes and things from the nearest cabins, they just sat as meek as curates till the leave boats began to go on shore, upon which they stoushed one or two that tried to interfere, and went happily off to the pier.
I rang for Catchpole and told him to find Jerry, and got Higgins to run over the main facts again. We came to the conclusion, after nutting things out, that there would probably be a good deal more trouble on shore than on the ship. Jerry said he’d do his best to stiffen old Picking up, and he told me to keep in touch with Howe and Hobson, and one or two more of the decent chaps, and stand by for trouble after dark.
‘They’ll be all right today,’ he said, ‘mooching round the bazaars and filling up with bad drink, but after sunset things may brighten up a bit, and the Major won’t be any good.’
‘My oath, he won’t,’ I said, for Barrett, though a decent little chap, was the last man to handle a difficult situation.
So we dismissed Higgins, and Mrs Jerry gave us a list of shopping as long as your arm to do for her.
Gosh, I can tell you it was good-oh to get ashore again. Being February the weather was just right, and it was nice to smell the old Eastern smell again. Our party got rickshaws, and the padre took us round the shops and the ladies did a wonderful amount of shopping. The padre wouldn’t stand any nonsense and the way he beat those niggers down was a treat. Some of them remembered him quite well. Those were good days, for the rupee was as low as it has ever been. I’ve forgotten exactly what we got for our English money, but in the bazaars the diggers were getting as much as thirty-seven shillings for English sovereigns, of which they had managed to get a good many. Of course they had to change it and lost on the exchange, and then they spent it all, or had their pockets gone through by their lady friends, but they had their fun while it lasted. While riding through the bazaars I saw Cavanagh bargaining for a monkey, and looking like Mother’s Good Boy. He saw me and waved, and then he came running after me.
‘See here, Doc,’ he said, ‘you done me a good turn with that bleeding Orangeman the time I bust me thumb, and I’ve never gone back on a pal yet. Where are you going tonight?’
‘G.O.H.’ I said, not that it was any business of his, but civility costs nothing.
‘You take the missis to the Galle Face,’ he said. ‘Least said soonest mended, but you can well take me word that thehotel won’t be healthy.’
‘It isn’t a doctor’s business to mind about unhealthy places,’ I said, ‘but thanks for the office, old son.’
Cavanagh was a damned nuisance, and he had been in jail for nearly doing in a pal and his girl, who had been Cavanagh’s girl but he had his points.
We all went out to Mount Lavinia and had lunch, and in the afternoon we bathed and the kiddies had a bonzer time. Celia and Mrs Howe were like kids themselves, all excited and pleased. They bought some lace and some tortoiseshell stuff and Mrs Brown did the bargaining. I told Jack about Cavanagh, and he agreed with me that if the men were going to pull any rough stuff we’d better be on hand. We all had dinner at the G.O.H. where Hobson joined us and Father Glennie, so we were a cheery party. Most of our lot had gone to the Galle Face where there was a smart dance that night, but I was pleased to see we could count on half a dozen good men, including ourselves. I reckoned if Jack and Hobson and I, with Father Glennie, couldn’t keep things quiet, we weren’t the old soldiers we ought to be.
The dinner was a cheery affair, and we all felt the worst part of our journey was over and Australia in sight, but had we known what was to come we should have known differently. After dinner the Browns went off to visit some Indian friends and the rest of us went into the lounge. There was some talk of dancing, but none of us felt very keen, so we just sat and yarned, and the usual touts came round selling jade and
silk, and offering to take your cheque from Australia, but we weren’t interested. They are as cunning as a cartload of monkeys, those natives, and regular swindlers. The Ghurkas are different. We had some of them with us in the Canal scrapping, jolly little chaps, keen as mustard. They were real white men and as clean as you or I. I got quite fond of one chap whose name I have forgotten, for we used to call him Kedgeree, and many’s the yarn we had, him in his lingo, and I in English. But we understood each other wonderfully.
Stone came through the lounge and I asked where his men were. He told me they were all just going back to the ship, which was a considerable relief to my mind, because if there was to be any trouble and his men blew into it, the diggers would probably have killed half of them. Stone went off, and all was going peacefully, and we were just thinking of turning in, when there was a most unholy row from the street outside. I suppose the same thought came uppermost in all our minds: ‘Damn those blasted fools’, but owing to the presence of ladies no one expressed it. Celia and Mrs Howe looked a bit scared, but we told them to go to bed and not worry about us. Celia looked quite white, poor kid, but I knew she’d be all right in the hotel, unless the diggers took it into their heads to burn it down. But I reckoned if there was any burning to be done they’d start on the bazaars, for some of the men had been in Cairo and had experience. Jack, Hobson and I buckled our belts on and went out to see the fun. It was a bonzer night with that sort of velvety sky and lots of stars. A crowd of our men, pretty tight, were coming along singing and shouting, holding up all the traffic. The hotel people were putting up shutters and closing the front door. The rickshaw men mostly took to their heels, leaving the rickshaws and the passengers stranded. The diggers were turning the passengers out, not too gently either, and taking each other for rides. You would have laughed to see fat old Cingalese birds being turned out of those rickshaws like a pudding out of a bowl, but it was geting beyond a laughing matter. Not content with riding up and down, some of the diggers made for a stand of rickshaws which were drawn up along the pavement, and knocked them over one after another like nine-pins. What with the crash of the breaking rickshaws and the boys yelling and singing, you couldn’t hear yourself speak. They were having rickshaw races too, and a lot of money was being laid. I saw Cavanagh lean out of his rickshaw and grab at the man who was overtaking him. The wheels locked, and they fairly pulled each other out on to the road, and the whole affair came to the ground in a heap. The diggers’ language did every justice to the situation.
Trooper to the Southern Cross Page 11