AUTOBIOGRAPHY 9 



I was in Her Majesty's Service, and entered on the 

 books of Nelson's old ship, the Victory, for duty at 

 Haslar Hospital, about a couple of months after I 

 made my application. 



My official chief at Haslar was a very remarkable 

 person, the late Sir John Richardson, an excellent 

 naturalist, and far-famed as an indomitable Arctic 

 traveller. He was a silent, reserved man, outside the 

 circle of his family and intimates; and, having a full 

 share of youthful vanity, I was extremely disgusted 

 to find that " Old John," as we irreverent youngsters 

 called him, took not the slightest notice of my wor- 

 shipful self either the first time I attended him, as it 

 was my duty to do, or for some weeks afterwards. I 

 am afraid to think of the lengths to which my tongue 

 may have run on the subject of the churlishness of 

 the chief, who was, in truth, one of the kindest-hearted 

 and most considerate of men. But one day, as I was 

 crossing the hospital square, Sir John stopped me, 

 and heaped coals of fire on my head by telling me that 

 he had tried to get me one of the resident appointments, 

 much coveted by the assistant surgeons, but that the 

 Admiralty had put in another man. " However," said 

 he, " I mean to keep you here till I can get you some- 

 thing you will like," and turned upon his heel without 

 waiting for the thanks I stammered out. That ex- 

 plained how it was I had not been packed off to the 

 West Coast of Africa like some of my juniors, and why, 

 eventually, I remained altogether seven months at 

 Haslar. 



After a long interval, during which "Old John" 

 ignored my existence almost as completely as before, 

 he stopped me again as we met in a casual way, and 

 describing the service on which the Rattlesnake was 



