In the Ranks of the C.I.V. | Page 4

deck in the sun to let our arms dry. After some
consultation we decided to light a furtive cigarette, but were
ignominiously caught by the doctor and rebuked. 'Back at school
again,' I thought; 'caught smoking!' It seemed very funny, and we had a
good laugh at it.
"It is a gorgeous, tropical night, not a cloud or feather of one; a big
moon, and dead-calm sea; just a slight, even roll; we have sat over
pipes after tea, chatting of old days, and present things, and the

mysterious future, sitting right aft on the poop, with the moonlit wake
creaming astern."
Inoculation was general, and I was turned off one morning with a
joyous band of comrades, retired to hammocks, and awaited the worst
with firmness. It was nothing more than a splitting headache and
shivering for about an hour, during which time I wished Kruger,
Roberts, and the war at the bottom of the sea. A painful stiffness then
ensued, and that was all. My only grievance was that two dying horses
were brought up and tied just below me, and dosed--lucky beasts--with
champagne by their officer-owners! Also we had the hose turned on us
by some sailors, who were washing the boat-bridge above, and jeered at
our impotent remonstrances. In two days we were fit for duty, and took
our turn in ministering to other sufferers.
We were a merry ship, for the men of our three corps got on capitally
together, and concerts and amusements were frequent. They were held
al fresco on the forward deck, with the hammocks of inoculates
swinging above and around, so that these unfortunates, some of whom
were pretty bad, had to take this strange musical medicine whether they
liked it or no, and the mouth-organ band which attended on these
occasions was by no means calculated to act as an opiate. Of course we
had sports, both aquatic and athletic, and on the 18th Williams and I
conceived the idea of publishing a newspaper; and without delay wrote,
and posted up, an extravagant prospectus of the same. Helpers came,
and ideas were plentiful. A most prolific poet knocked off poems
"while you wait," and we soon had plenty of "copy." The difficulty lay
in printing our paper. All we could do was to make four copies in
manuscript, and that was labour enough. I am sure no paper ever went
to press under such distracting conditions. The editorial room was a
donkey engine, and the last sheets were copied one night among
overhanging hammocks, card-parties, supper-parties, and a braying
concert by the Irish just overhead, by the light of an inch of candle. We
pasted up two copies on deck, sent one bound copy to the officers, and
the Montfort Express was a great success. It was afterwards printed at
Capetown. Here is an extract which will throw some light on our dress
on board in the tropics:--

THE FEBRUARY FASHIONS.
By our Lady Correspondent.
"DEAR MAUDE,
"I don't often write to you about gentlemen's fashions, because, as a
rule, they are monstrously dull, but this season the stronger sex seem
really to be developing some originality. Here are a few notes taken on
the troopship Montfort, where of course you know every one is smart.
(Tout ce qu'il y a de plus Montfort has become quite a proverb, dear.)
Generally speaking, piquancy and coolness are the main features. For
instance, a neat costume for stables is a pair of strong boots. To make
this rather more dressy for the dinner-table, a pair of close-fitting pants
may be added, but this is optional. Shirts, if worn, are neutral in tint;
white ones are quite démodé. Vests are cut low in the neck and with
merely a suggestion of sleeve. Trousers (I blush to write it, dear) are
worn baggy at the knee and very varied in pattern and colour, according
to the tastes and occupation of the wearer. Caps à la convict are de
rigueur. I believe this to spring from a delicate sense of sympathy with
the many members of the aristocracy now in prison. The same
chivalrous instinct shows itself in the fashion of close-cropped hair.
"There is a great latitude for individual taste; one tall, handsome man
(known to his friends, I believe, under the sobriquet of 'Kipper') is
always seen in a delicious confection of some gauzy pink and blue
material, which enhances rather than conceals the Apollo-like grace of
his lissome limbs.
"At the Gymkhana the other day (a very smart affair), I saw Mr. 'Pat'
Duffy, looking charmingly fresh and cool in a suit of blue tattooing,
which I hear was made for him in Japan by a native lady.
"In Yeomanry circles, a single gold-rimmed eye-glass is excessively
chic, and, by the way, in the