by Val Wood
Or do I go home and face Father’s wrath and I’m afraid his disappointment that I shall not be an eminent physician, and Felix’s scorn and derision and belief that he was right after all and I was wasting my time and Father’s money, which could not be further from the truth.
Home, he thought; my heart says that I should, though not back to the country, but perhaps to Hull to work in the Infirmary as Dr Birchfield does and learn from him and others like him.
He had been considering whether or not to travel home and await the results there, but then there was the question of Hunter’s errant letter, when a note was slipped under his door to say that the Principal and Deputy Principal were calling him in for an interview. Jamie panicked. Did this mean that he had failed miserably? But then why would the two most eminent people of the university bother themselves, or deign to tell him personally that his shortcomings had held back some other more worthy student?
He stood before them, trying not to seem nervous as they perused his exam papers.
The Principal cleared his throat and glanced up at him. ‘So, Lucan. We have been asked to look at your papers by the examining board.’
‘Is there something wrong, sir?’ he stammered. ‘Have I missed some questions?’
The Deputy looked at him from over the top of wire-rimmed glasses and answered for the Principal. ‘Not as far as we are aware, Lucan, but it has been brought to our attention that from your comprehensive and encyclopaedic response to the papers, perhaps you took the easy option by coming to us when you might, by your knowledge of physics and Latin and your general understanding of medicine, have become a physician. We would like an explanation of this, if you please.’
Jamie let out a huge breath of relief. So he had passed. Or had he? Did they think he had copied from textbooks, or, worse, paid someone to drip-feed him the known questions and answers?
‘I …’ He fumbled for words. Then he blurted out, ‘I want to heal. As a physician I can only advise; as a surgeon apothecary I feel that I can do some good.’ He found himself telling them of the cholera epidemic he had witnessed in Hull whilst he was still at school and of the country doctor who had treated his mother.
The Principal nodded when he had finished speaking. ‘You do realize, Lucan, that the next few years will see a great change in medicine and how it is perceived. Young intelligent men such as yourself will be highly thought of in the field of scientific medicine. You have an open mind, as is apparent from your paper, and new laws, reforms and bills are being introduced in Parliament as we speak.’
‘I know, sir,’ he answered. ‘I am aware of the changes that are coming, and I still don’t know if I’ve made the right decision, and yet I feel that by becoming a surgeon apothecary I shall know from first-hand experience what is needed.’
The two men behind the desk looked at each other. ‘Well,’ said the Deputy. ‘We can’t argue with that, and you are very young; there is time enough in my opinion for you to change career at a later date.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Jamie took his leave of them, trying to keep the smile from his lips. He felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders: at least that was one issue out of the way. He took another breath. What a pity Hunter wasn’t there to help him celebrate. On the strength of his forthcoming success he bought a bottle of wine and a meat pie and returned to his lodgings. There was a letter on his table, which his landlady must have put there.
‘Hunter!’ he said out loud. ‘At last. Where the devil have you been?’
He opened the wine, poured himself a glass and took a sip before opening the letter. ‘So what have you been up to,’ he murmured, ‘whilst I’ve been slaving away?’
But then he carefully put the glass on the table and sat down by the fire to read the disturbing contents, which were brief and to the point and not even signed, though it was from Hunter sure enough.
‘You must come NOW. It is hell on earth here. Come IMMEDIATELY. You’re needed!’
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
WHAT IN HEAVEN’S name am I doing? I’m a pacifist, a doctor, or nearly. Jamie ran his hands through his hair. He’d boarded the train at Fenchurch Street and the railway carriage was full of men: military men, navvies, men with official document cases under their arms, all on their way to the Blackwall Docks; East India Docks, they used to be called, he remembered, then other names as ownership of the dockyards changed. Now it was simply called Blackwall and it was situated downriver, and with its deep water was used for loading and unloading ships as much as for shipbuilding.
It was to this destination that he was heading. Here it was that Hunter had said he must board a ship to join him in the Crimea.
I don’t want to go, he thought rebelliously. It’s not what I’d planned. Not what I bargained for. It was only talk. I can’t believe that any of us were serious about joining a war that has nothing to do with us. It’s a Russian war! If the French want to dive into it then let them, but why should we?
He ranted on in his head and sulkily watched the enthusiasm of some of his fellow passengers, who were free with their opinions of how long they would be out on foreign soil. These were the soldiers and navvies, the navvies going out to build bridges, dig ditches, repair what had been damaged; the soldiers, mostly about his age or younger, going for adventure and mindful of the fact that half of them wouldn’t be returning. The men with document cases, dressed in overcoats and top hats or bowlers, looked on, saying nothing but occasionally raising an eyebrow at controversial comments. One of them cast several glances at Jamie as if he were assessing what role he would be playing in this performance.
None if I can help it. Jamie sank further into gloom. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m not a coward, at least I don’t think I am, but I don’t want to start my medical career out on a battlefield. I want to help those who are sick through no fault of their own. And yet he hadn’t been able to refuse Hunter’s desperate plea.
When everyone disembarked from the train he followed them in the direction of the river. He had come with little luggage; he had no medical equipment save a stethoscope which dismantled into several pieces and now reposed in his travelling bag; he had a list of requirements he intended to buy once he knew for certain that he had qualified.
The quayside was chaotic, full not only of soldiers awaiting orders to embark on to the ships, but also of women, some nurses dressed in plain garb and carrying leather bags, but also wives and children come to see their husbands and fathers off on their voyage. Further along the quayside Jamie saw another ship discharging soldiers, many of them being stretchered off, some, bodies he supposed, completely covered in sheets, others with bandaged heads or legs, whilst still others, the walking wounded on makeshift crutches, were being helped down the gangway and on to waggons by other men, also bandaged but less disabled than their compatriots.
Poor devils, Jamie thought as he watched. Their so-called adventure didn’t last long and those are the survivors. He heaved a despondent sigh and, knowing it was now or never, went off to find someone in authority to offer his services and also to discover just where he might find Hunter.
There was a long queue of men and women waiting to be seen. Some of the women were arguing with the officials and he heard their loud and complaining voices insisting that they were nurses and wanted to help. Many of them were turned away, with one official stating that Miss Nightingale chose her own team of nurses and that they had left already.
‘Well, why can’t I go out and join them?’ one young and pretty woman asked.
The official behind the desk looked her up and down and said curtly, ‘I don’t think Miss Nightingale would consider you suitable.’
Another woman standing behind her shouted at him. ‘We’re decent women wanting to help! Who do you think you are, saying such a thing?’
Jamie shook his head in commiseration. They didn’t stand a chance against authority. Officialdom didn’t want women looking after soldiers, not in any circum
stances. Miss Nightingale had only been granted approval because of her background and the fact that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
An hour later, when he had eventually reached a desk, he saw that the man sitting behind it was one who had been in his railway carriage. Jamie explained that he had come to join his colleague Dr Maugham-Hunt, who, he said, was already out on the Crimean peninsula.
‘But I don’t know where,’ he told the man. ‘And I’d like to be with him so that we can work together as a team.’
The official put out his hand in a weary manner. ‘Papers,’ he said.
‘Papers?’ Jamie said. ‘Erm. What papers?’
The man stared at him for a second, and then leaned back in his chair and clasped his fingers together. ‘Papers to say you have been approved to travel.’ He sighed. ‘Have you been to the War Office?’
‘Well, no,’ Jamie began. ‘I – I didn’t realize I had to.’
The man was gazing at him in derision and Jamie felt belittled and thought that perhaps this might have been something akin to the feelings of the women who had been rebuffed. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I came in rather a hurry.’
The man scratched his cheek. ‘You’re a doctor, you say?’
‘Yes. That is – I’ve just finished my finals.’
‘Papers?’ he was asked again.
‘Well – I haven’t – I haven’t got my results yet, but—’ He felt and was sure he seemed a crass idiot. How could he not have thought this through logically, as he usually did? He’d been completely bowled over by Hunter’s letter and had set off totally unprepared.
The official tamped down a sheaf of papers on his desk and said, ‘You need to go to the War Office for clearance, but if you haven’t got any certification to prove you’re a doctor they won’t give it. Unless you join the army, of course,’ he said with a cynical lilt of his mouth which could not be interpreted as a smile. ‘And in that case you need to be in Waterloo Road Recruiting Office. Next!’
Jamie stood back and let others flock in front of him. Now what should he do? I could try to find out where Hunter is, I suppose, but what then? If they won’t let me travel without papers—
‘Hey! You over there!’ A bellowing voice travelled across the room and people turned to look towards him.
Jamie glanced towards the desk he had just left. A soldier was standing by it, next to the official who had made him feel so small and insignificant. He touched his chest with a forefinger. ‘Me?’ he mouthed.
‘Yes. You! Come over here!’
Jamie began to walk back and the soldier, a sergeant, he thought, walked towards him.
‘Holden there said you might be a doctor,’ the soldier barked. He was much older than Jamie, probably in his thirties. ‘But you’ve no papers to travel.’
‘That’s right. I was asked by a colleague, Dr Maugham-Hunt, to go out and join him.’
‘And where’s he?’
‘That’s what I don’t know and would like to find out, but even if I do it seems that I can’t travel. I haven’t yet received my final results.’
‘But you’ve been studying to be a doctor?’
‘Yes. My results are due at any time. I’m …’ He didn’t want to sound boastful. ‘I’m pretty certain I’m through all right.’
The soldier grunted. ‘And can this Dr Whatsit verify this?’
‘That I’ve studied, yes, except that I don’t know where he is,’ he repeated.
‘Come with me.’ The soldier marched off at a cracking pace and Jamie followed him at a run, across the room, outside, across a yard and towards another building, where they went through double doors and up a wide staircase.
‘If we can find your pal,’ the sergeant said as they ran up the steps, ‘and see if he has gone over to the Crimea, then that’s good enough for me. What’s his name again?’
‘Dr Gerald Maugham-Hunt, but the official said—’
‘I’m not bothered what he said,’ came the reply. ‘He’s only a jumped-up little desk clerk. Oh, it’s true you can’t travel abroad, but I’ve something else in mind for you before you scurry back to wherever you’ve come from.’
He marched Jamie into an office where another clerk was sitting at a desk. ‘Find me Dr Gerald Maugham-Hunt,’ he barked. ‘This young feller will tell you how to spell it.’
‘I know how to spell, thank you,’ the bespectacled clerk said tersely. ‘That’s why I’m doing this job and you are not.’
Jamie hid a wry smile as the sergeant snapped at the clerk to get a move on as he hadn’t time to waste, and then went to sit down at the back of the room whilst the sergeant prowled about, occasionally looking out of the window or up at the clock on the wall whilst the clerk went through several ring binders to find Hunter’s name.
He was hungry and thirsty, having had nothing to eat or drink since leaving his lodgings that morning, but it was more than twenty minutes before the clerk finally indicated that the sergeant should come over to the desk and Jamie watched as he pointed out something in a thick register. Then they both turned to observe Jamie before bending their heads and indulging in whispered conversation.
He got up from his seat and went across to the desk. ‘Have you found him?’ he asked.
There was a poignant silence and Jamie glanced from one to the other. ‘What?’ he said. ‘Have you found where he is or not?’
‘Not where he is exactly, I’m afraid,’ the clerk said, his voice muted. ‘Only that he isn’t – I mean, I’m sorry to say it is reported that Dr Hunt died at Scutari.’ He looked steadily at Jamie. ‘I have here confirmation of his death.’
Jamie took hold of the edge of the desk. ‘But that can’t be right! He’s a doctor, not a soldier. How did he die? Was he injured?’ He became aware that his voice was rising. ‘He’s only just gone out there.’
And then he recalled what Hunter had said in his brief letter. That it was hell on earth out there. The sergeant appeared behind him with a glass of water in his hand and he hadn’t realized that he had gone and come back.
‘Take a drink.’ He handed Jamie a tumbler, which Jamie took with trembling fingers and felt his teeth chatter against the glass. ‘It’s always hard to hear such news – and giving it,’ he added grimly. ‘Come and sit down.’
He led Jamie back to the chair against the wall. ‘Take a minute or two,’ he said. ‘And then I want to ask you something.’
‘Have his parents been informed?’ Jamie asked in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own.
The sergeant nodded. ‘So I understand. Don’t try to talk. Just wait for the news to sink in. I’ll be back in ten minutes.’
Jamie watched him go out of the office and then saw the clerk close up the register. He got to his feet. ‘Just a minute,’ he called. ‘May I take a look?’
‘By all means.’ The clerk opened the register again and flipped the pages. ‘None of this makes happy reading, I’m afraid.’
‘I’d like to know where or how it happened,’ Jamie said. ‘Does it say?’
‘Only that it was in Scutari. Perhaps he was working in the hospital.’ He hesitated. ‘I can inform you that conditions are not good there. Many soldiers have died not from their wounds but from infections. Let us hope that when Miss Nightingale gets there she will make a difference.’
‘What kind of infections?’ Jamie asked. For Hunter to have succumbed so quickly and without making a difference was very hard to bear.
‘Cholera, typhoid, dysentery, those are the ones we are hearing about.’ The clerk closed the register. ‘I’m sorry about your colleague.’
Jamie thanked him and went back to sit down. We had such plans, Hunter and I, and now they are gone. We didn’t even have time to celebrate. He leaned forward and bent his head. He was devastated, hardly able to believe what he had heard. I must write to his parents, if I can find their address. He recalled that Hunter had left some of his belongings behind in their lodgings, their intention being that they would make that their bas
e until they had decided where they would begin their combined careers. Now, he supposed he would have to go through them to find out where his parents lived and invite them to come and collect them.
What a disaster, he thought miserably. What a devastating tragedy to happen to someone so full of life and optimism.
‘Now then, young feller-me-lad, it’s of no use sitting there drowning in misery.’ The sergeant stood in front of him. ‘There’s only one thing to do and that’s to get on with your own life; your pal wouldn’t have wanted you to waste it, would he now?’
Jamie wiped his eyes. ‘No,’ he said huskily. ‘He wouldn’t. But we had such plans, he and I. We were going to set up together in medical practice. But he set off for the Crimea whilst I finished studying.’
The soldier surveyed him. ‘Well, let’s hope he had time to do some good whilst he was out there. The intention was an honourable one and no doubt appreciated by those he came in contact with. But now’ – he folded his arms – ‘there’s something you can do that would’ve made your pal proud.’
‘What? How can I do anything when I haven’t any papers?’
‘I know, I know,’ the sergeant said tetchily. ‘Don’t let’s go over that again. Come on.’ He flicked a thumb in the direction of the door and the stairs. ‘Let’s be going.’