<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></SPAN>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
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<p>I LONG TO JOIN THE BRITISH ARMY BEFORE SEBASTOPOL—MY WANDERINGS
ABOUT LONDON FOR THAT PURPOSE—HOW I FAIL—ESTABLISHMENT
OF THE FIRM OF “DAY AND MARTIN”—I EMBARK FOR
TURKEY.</p>
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<p>Before I left Jamaica for Navy Bay, as narrated in the
last chapter, war had been declared against Russia, and
we were all anxiously expecting news of a descent upon
the Crimea. Now, no sooner had I heard of war somewhere,
than I longed to witness it; and when I was told
that many of the regiments I had known so well in Jamaica
had left England for the scene of action, the desire
to join them became stronger than ever. I used to stand
for hours in silent thought before an old map of the world,
in a little corner of which some one had chalked a red
cross, to enable me to distinguish where the Crimea was;
and as I traced the route thither, all difficulties would
vanish. But when I came to talk over the project with
my friends, the best scheme I could devise seemed so wild
and improbable, that I was fain to resign my hopes for a
time, and so started for Navy Bay.</p>
<p>But all the way to England, from Navy Bay, I was
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</SPAN></span>
turning my old wish over and over in my mind; and
when I found myself in London, in the autumn of 1854,
just after the battle of Alma had been fought, and my old
friends were fairly before the walls of Sebastopol, how to
join them there took up far more of my thoughts than that
visionary gold-mining speculation on the river Palmilla,
which seemed so feasible to us in New Granada, but was
considered so wild and unprofitable a speculation in London.
And, as time wore on, the inclination to join my
old friends of the 97th, 48th, and other regiments, battling
with worse foes than yellow fever or cholera, took such
exclusive possession of my mind, that I threw over the
gold speculation altogether, and devoted all my energies
to my new scheme.</p>
<p>Heaven knows it was visionary enough! I had no
friends who could help me in such a project—nay, who
would understand why I desired to go, and what I desired to
do when I got there. My funds, although they might, carefully
husbanded, carry me over the three thousand miles,
and land me at Balaclava, would not support me there long;
while to persuade the public that an unknown Creole woman
would be useful to their army before Sebastopol was too improbable
an achievement to be thought of for an instant.
Circumstances, however, assisted me.</p>
<p>As the winter wore on, came hints from various
quarters of mismanagement, want, and suffering in the
Crimea; and after the battles of Balaclava and Inkermann,
and the fearful storm of the 14th of November, the
worst anticipations were realized. Then we knew that
the hospitals were full to suffocation, that scarcity and
exposure were the fate of all in the camp, and that the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</SPAN></span>
brave fellows for whom any of us at home would have
split our last shilling, and shared our last meal, were
dying thousands of miles away from the active sympathy
of their fellow-countrymen. Fast and thick upon the
news of Inkermann, fought by a handful of fasting and
enfeebled men against eight times their number of picked
Russians, brought fresh and animated to the contest, and
while all England was reeling beneath the shock of that
fearful victory, came the sad news that hundreds were
dying whom the Russian shot and sword had spared, and
that the hospitals of Scutari were utterly unable to shelter,
or their inadequate staff to attend to, the ship-loads of sick
and wounded which were sent to them across the stormy
Black Sea.</p>
<p>But directly England knew the worst, she set about
repairing her past neglect. In every household busy
fingers were working for the poor soldier—money flowed
in golden streams wherever need was—and Christian
ladies, mindful of the sublime example, “I was sick, and
ye visited me,” hastened to volunteer their services by
those sick-beds which only women know how to soothe
and bless.</p>
<p>Need I be ashamed to confess that I shared in the
general enthusiasm, and longed more than ever to carry my
busy (and the reader will not hesitate to add experienced)
fingers where the sword or bullet had been busiest, and
pestilence most rife. I had seen much of sorrow and
death elsewhere, but they had never daunted me; and if I
could feel happy binding up the wounds of quarrelsome
Americans and treacherous Spaniards, what delight should
I not experience if I could be useful to my own “sons,”
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</SPAN></span>
suffering for a cause it was so glorious to fight and bleed
for! I never stayed to discuss probabilities, or enter into
conjectures as to my chances of reaching the scene of
action. I made up my mind that if the army wanted
nurses, they would be glad of me, and with all the ardour
of my nature, which ever carried me where inclination
prompted, I decided that I <em>would</em> go to the Crimea; and
go I did, as all the world knows.</p>
<p>Of course, had it not been for my old strong-mindedness
(which has nothing to do with obstinacy, and is in no
way related to it—the best term I can think of to express
it being “judicious decisiveness”), I should have given
up the scheme a score of times in as many days; so regularly
did each successive day give birth to a fresh set of
rebuffs and disappointments. I shall make no excuse to
my readers for giving them a pretty full history of my
struggles to become a Crimean <em>heroine</em>!</p>
<p>My first idea (and knowing that I was well fitted for
the work, and would be the right woman in the right place,
the reader can fancy my audacity) was to apply to the
War Office for the post of hospital nurse. Among the
diseases which I understood were most prevalent in the
Crimea were cholera, diarrhœa, and dysentery, all of them
more or less known in tropical climates; and with which,
as the reader will remember, my Panama experience had
made me tolerably familiar. Now, no one will accuse me
of presumption, if I say that I thought (and so it afterwards
proved) that my knowledge of these human ills
would not only render my services as a nurse more valuable,
but would enable me to be of use to the overworked doctors.
That others thought so too, I took with me ample
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</SPAN></span>
testimony. I cannot resist the temptation of giving my
readers one of the testimonials I had, it seems so eminently
practical and to the point:—</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>“I became acquainted with Mrs. Seacole through the
instrumentality of T. B. Cowan, Esq., H. B. M. Consul at
Colon, on the Isthmus of Panama, and have had many
opportunities of witnessing her professional zeal and ability
in the treatment of aggravated forms of tropical diseases.</p>
<p>“I am myself personally much indebted for her indefatigable
kindness and skill at a time when I am apt to
believe the advice of a practitioner qualified in the North
would have little availed.</p>
<p>“Her peculiar fitness, in a constitutional point of view,
for the duties of a medical attendant, needs no comment.</p>
<p class="sig">(Signed)<span class="space"> </span>“A. G. M.,<br/>
“Late Medical Officer, West Granada Gold-mining Company.”</p>
</div>
<p>So I made long and unwearied application at the War
Office, in blissful ignorance of the labour and time I was
throwing away. I have reason to believe that I considerably
interfered with the repose of sundry messengers, and
disturbed, to an alarming degree, the official gravity of some
nice gentlemanly young fellows, who were working out
their salaries in an easy, off-hand way. But my ridiculous
endeavours to gain an interview with the Secretary-at-War
of course failed, and glad at last to oblige a distracted messenger,
I transferred my attentions to the Quartermaster-General’s
department. Here I saw another gentleman, who
listened to me with a great deal of polite enjoyment,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</SPAN></span>
and—his amusement ended—hinted, had I not better apply to
the Medical Department; and accordingly I attached myself
to their quarters with the same unwearying ardour. But,
of course, I grew tired at last, and then I changed my
plans.</p>
<p>Now, I am not for a single instant going to blame the
authorities who would not listen to the offer of a motherly
yellow woman to go to the Crimea and nurse her “sons”
there, suffering from cholera, diarrhœa, and a host of lesser
ills. In my country, where people know our use, it would
have been different; but here it was natural enough—although
I had references, and other voices spoke for me—that
they should laugh, good-naturedly enough, at my
offer. War, I know, is a serious game, but sometimes
very humble actors are of great use in it, and if the reader,
when he comes in time to peruse the evidence of those
who had to do with the Sebastopol drama, of my share in
it, will turn back to this chapter, he will confess perhaps
that, after all, the impulse which led me to the War Department
was not unnatural.</p>
<p>My new scheme was, I candidly confess, worse devised
than the one which had failed. Miss Nightingale had left
England for the Crimea, but other nurses were still to
follow, and my new plan was simply to offer myself to
Mrs. H—— as a recruit. Feeling that I was one of the
very women they most wanted, experienced and fond of
the work, I jumped at once to the conclusion that they
would gladly enrol me in their number. To go to Cox’s,
the army agents, who were most obliging to me, and obtain
the Secretary-at-War’s private address, did not take long;
and that done, I laid the same pertinacious siege to his
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</SPAN></span>
great house in —— Square, as I had previously done to his
place of business.</p>
<p>Many a long hour did I wait in his great hall, while
scores passed in and out; many of them looking curiously
at me. The flunkeys, noble creatures! marvelled exceedingly
at the yellow woman whom no excuses could get rid
of, nor impertinence dismay, and showed me very clearly that
they resented my persisting in remaining there in mute appeal
from their sovereign will. At last I gave that up, after a
message from Mrs. H. that the full complement of nurses had
been secured, and that my offer could not be entertained.
Once again I tried, and had an interview this time with one
of Miss Nightingale’s companions. She gave me the same
reply, and I read in her face the fact, that had there been
a vacancy, I should not have been chosen to fill it.</p>
<p>As a last resort, I applied to the managers of the Crimean
Fund to know whether they would give me a passage
to the camp—once there I would trust to something turning
up. But this failed also, and one cold evening I stood in
the twilight, which was fast deepening into wintry night,
and looked back upon the ruins of my last castle in the air.
The disappointment seemed a cruel one. I was so conscious
of the unselfishness of the motives which induced me to
leave England—so certain of the service I could render
among the sick soldiery, and yet I found it so difficult
to convince others of these facts. Doubts and suspicions
arose in my heart for the first and last time, thank Heaven.
Was it possible that American prejudices against colour
had some root here? Did these ladies shrink from accepting
my aid because my blood flowed beneath a somewhat
duskier skin than theirs? Tears streamed down my foolish
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</SPAN></span>
cheeks, as I stood in the fast thinning streets; tears of grief
that any should doubt my motives—that Heaven should
deny me the opportunity that I sought. Then I stood
still, and looking upward through and through the dark
clouds that shadowed London, prayed aloud for help. I
dare say that I was a strange sight to the few passers-by,
who hastened homeward through the gloom and mist of that
wintry night. I dare say those who read these pages will
wonder at me as much as they who saw me did; but you
must all remember that I am one of an impulsive people,
and find it hard to put that restraint upon my feelings
which to you is so easy and natural.</p>
<p>The morrow, however, brought fresh hope. A good
night’s rest had served to strengthen my determination.
Let what might happen, to the Crimea I would go. If in
no other way, then would I upon my own responsibility
and at my own cost. There were those there who had known
me in Jamaica, who had been under my care; doctors who
would vouch for my skill and willingness to aid them, and
a general who had more than once helped me, and
would do so still. Why not trust to their welcome and
kindness, and start at once? If the authorities had allowed
me, I would willingly have given them my services as a
nurse; but as they declined them, should I not open
an hotel for invalids in the Crimea in my own way? I
had no more idea of what the Crimea was than the home
authorities themselves perhaps, but having once made up
my mind, it was not long before cards were printed and
speeding across the Mediterranean to my friends before
Sebastopol. Here is one of them:—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="center">“BRITISH HOTEL.<br/>
<span class="smcap">Mrs. Mary Seacole</span><br/>
(<i>Late of Kingston, Jamaica</i>),</p>
<p class="center">Respectfully announces to her former kind friends, and to the<br/>
Officers of the Army and Navy generally,</p>
<p class="blockquot">That she has taken her passage in the screw-steamer “Hollander,”
to start from London on the 25th of January, intending on her arrival
at Balaclava to establish a mess table and comfortable quarters for
sick and convalescent officers.”</p>
<p>This bold programme would reach the Crimea in the
end of January, at a time when any officer would have
considered a stall in an English stable luxurious quarters
compared to those he possessed, and had nearly forgotten
the comforts of a mess-table. It must have read to them
rather like a mockery, and yet, as the reader will see, I
succeeded in redeeming my pledge.</p>
<p>While this new scheme was maturing, I again met Mr.
Day in England. He was bound to Balaclava upon some
shipping business, and we came to the understanding that
(if it were found desirable) we should together open a
store as well as an hotel in the neighbourhood of the camp.
So was originated the well-known firm of Seacole and
Day (I am sorry to say, the camp wits dubbed it Day and
Martin), which, for so many months, did business upon the
now deserted high-road from the then busy harbour of Balaclava
to the front of the British army before Sebastopol.</p>
<p>These new arrangements were not allowed to interfere
in any way with the main object of my journey. A great
portion of my limited capital was, with the kind aid of a
medical friend, invested in medicines which I had reason to
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</SPAN></span>
believe would be useful; with the remainder I purchased
those home comforts which I thought would be most difficult
to obtain away from England.</p>
<p>I had scarcely set my foot on board the “Hollander,” before
I met a friend. The supercargo was the brother of the
Mr. S——, whose death in Jamaica the reader will not have
forgotten, and he gave me a hearty welcome. I thought
the meeting augured well, and when I told him my plans
he gave me the most cheering encouragement. I was glad,
indeed, of any support, for, beyond all doubt, my project
was a hazardous one.</p>
<p>So cheered at the outset, I watched without a pang the
shores of England sink behind the smooth sea, and turned
my gaze hopefully to the as yet landless horizon, beyond
which lay that little peninsula to which the eyes and hearts
of all England were so earnestly directed.</p>
<p>So, cheerily! the good ship ploughed its way eastward
ho! for Turkey.</p>
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