A Nurse's Life in War and Peace

by E. C. Laurence

At last, on the 20th, we received orders to join the Victorian at Cape Town. It was pouring with rain, but Sister —— went off at once to find a cab, while I hastily packed up, paid our mess bill, &c. Before she got back, there was a telephone message to tell us to hurry, as the ship was going soon; we bundled our things on to the cab, and just managed to catch a train at Wynberg, which (by good luck) was an express, as most of the trains loiter about at all the suburban stations.

At Cape Town we hastily cabbed to the P.M.O.'s office for orders, but were told to go straight down to the ship; at the dock gates I sent Sister on with our small things to the ship, to say we were coming, while I went to the agents, and was lucky in finding an empty trolley, and getting them to tumble our heavy baggage on to it, though they said it was too late for the Victorian, as she had been hooting for some time; however, I got on to the waggon and rattled down to the South Arm. There I found Sister —— looking very melancholy, as they told her on board we were not expected, and there was no room for us, and "where were our written orders?"

Of course we had no written orders, as all had been by telephone; but I did not mean to be left behind, so, taking my bag, and telling Sister to bring hers, I bundled up the gangway, which they were on the point of removing, and asked to see the C.O., telling them that I did not mind a bit if there was no cabin, but that we could travel on deck! Just then the embarkation officer came bustling along, and said that he had thought we could not get down in time, but that it was all right, and they had got to make room for us! So some soldiers soon carried our baggage on board, and as our last box came on the embarkation officer went off, and we were away.

The cabins were really all full, but, after some delay, two poor young officers had to double in with some others and give us their cabin.

The Victorian is rather a grubby boat—a cattle-boat when she is at home. There are two hundred Boer prisoners on board, going up to a place near Ladysmith; four of them are officers, who are berthed on the upper deck, but don't mess with us. They seem quite a superior sort (one of them was a Commandant), and they are very polite to us, always ready to move our chairs, or to do anything to help us.

There are about twenty officers in the saloon, and one officer's wife.

The ship is not accustomed to having any ladies on board, but every one is very good to us, and the stewards are most attentive (there is no stewardess).

I sit next to the C.O., a Colonel from Australia, who had had a bad fall from his horse, and is going back to Australia for the voyage to recruit (this boat is going to take time-expired men from Durban to Australia, and will return with a full load of men and horses from there); he and his son have both been fighting out here.

Just lately he has been a patient in the hospital where we have been lodging, and he speaks very plainly about the bad management there, after he had been very well nursed in another hospital up-country.

There is a very pleasant, and very Irish, R.A.M.C. Major in medical charge. He has had a rough time trekking about with his regiment for the last fifteen months, and is now going for the trip to Australia to recruit after fever; he wants us to go with him, as they will probably send a couple of sisters, and we already have the promise of "a good time" in Australia while the ship is there; Sister says she would like to go, but I would like to see this show through first.