In the semi-darkness of early morning, the scene was romantically beautiful, but as it became light it was less so.
We could then see the muddy shores, and the vast Barrack Hospital which had looked like a Caliph’s palace rising out of the gloom was now seen to be dirty, crumbling and in a state of decay. Tents, booths and huts had been set up about it, presided over by an array of nationalities. I saw two soldiers, one limping and one with a dirty bandage round his head, making unsteady progress among the booths.
Soon we were disembarking, which meant being lowered into the caiques with our carpet bags and then taken ashore.
And so we arrived at the hospital at Scutari.
There was no real road only a rough and muddy path; and to reach the plateau on which the hospital was situated it was necessary to climb up this path.
My first impression of that hospital was so depressing that I almost wished I could get back to the Vectis and ask to be taken home.
Hopelessness seemed to permeate the air. I sensed that even Henrietta’s spirits were quelled. I was not sure what we had expected, but it was not this.
We were breathless when we had climbed up to the plateau and the nearer we came to the hospital, the more our misgivings increased. Now we could see the stalls and booths clearly. Most of them sold drink. I saw a woman in a spotted velvet gown clutching a bottle under her arm, and making her way to the hospital.
“Camp followers,” I whispered to Henrietta.
“I can’t believe that.”
“I’ve read about them.”
“Not in the hospital, surely.”
“We’ll see.”
And we did.
The hospital was truly enormous. At least, I thought, we shall have plenty of room. This was not the case. Most of the space was taken up with the wards. When I saw how many sick and suffering lay there, I was astounded; and later I learned that they were not suffering from the effects of war but of disease. There had been a cholera epidemic which had killed thousands.
Damp ran down the hospital walls, and the once grand tiles of the floors were broken in many places; the courtyard was littered with decaying refuse which must have been left there for some time.
Disorder and decay, with the inevitable disease, seemed to be the chief characteristic of the place.
How could an army fight a war from such a background?
I felt angry with those at home who had sent out men like Lily’s William to suffer the hardships they would inevitably endure. Better to die in combat, I thought, than to be brought to such a hospital.
People like Lady Mary Sims and Mrs. Jarvis-Lee were ‘becoming more and more disenchanted, and their desire to do good for their country was rapidly waning.
Miss Nightingale was in despair, but she was not one to give way to such emotion; and I could see that she was immediately formulating plans to remedy the situation and was beginning to grapple with the unexpected setbacks which awaited us.
Six rooms had been allotted to us; one of these was a kitchen and the other so small that it would be impossible to get more than two people in it.
“Well,” she said, ‘we must for the time being accept what is here. “
She hoped there would be improvements later.
When we saw the rooms our hearts sank even lower, although we were now prepared for discomforts. There were divans round the walls, Turkish fashion, and we were expected to sleep on these. They were damp and dirty.
Miss Nightingale said: “The first thing we must do is clean them and then divide ourselves up as to how we shall fit ourselves in. Let us remember that we are not here to be comfortable but to heal the sick.”
We immediately set about cleaning the rooms. Eliza kept with us for, since that encounter on the deck, we had become good friends. I had told Henrietta about the episode; she had been very sympathetic and with her natural charm she had managed to convey that she wished to be friends. We often found that Eliza was beside us and that was good for us. Eliza was a natural protector. She was big, domineering and bellicose, and most of the others were a little afraid of her. Her attitude to Ethel had shown a softness in her, a natural kindliness which she would try to hide; and although she showed she had a mild contempt for the manner in which we spoke, behaved, and were unaccustomed to the harshness of life, she was our friend.
“This will be our corner,” she said to me with a wink.
“We’ll claim it and once we have, it’s ours. Look,” she went on, pointing to a heap of dirt.
“Rats! They’ve been here. What can you expect with all that rubbish about? I reckon the rats live like lords. I’m beginning to itch. Wouldn’t surprise me if there wasn’t a few hoppers around here.”
I was very glad of their companionship; and I think Henrietta was too.
I had a notion that she was beginning to think that marriage with Lord Cariton might have been preferable to the situation she now found herself in. Henrietta was not a dedicated nurse, but she had beauty and charm which had showed itself at Kaiserwald and made her very popular with the patients. It was different with me. I would rather do nursing than anything else; and if I had to do it in Scutari instead of the dream-hospital I had imagined at home, then so be it.
When I think back to that arrival in Scutari, the images are confused.
What I remember most vividly is those poor men lying in their beds without adequate clothes and bed covering nothing but dirty sheets against the cold. I think of floors with rats scuttling across them; of the horrible smell of disease and corruption. I knew that Miss Nightingale turned with fierce indignation against those ministers snug in their London comforts who had sent these men out to fight the country’s wars with inadequate medical supplies. How foolish they were! How shortsighted! Everyone at home thought the British army invincible. But it took more than might and power to fight disease. At once it was apparent to me that disease cholera and dysentery were a greater enemy than the Russians.
The first thing we did was to scrub and wash. We had to bring some cleanliness into this hospital. Dirt hand in hand with disease was the curse of this war.
There were no candles. Miss Nightingale had discovered that there was a dearth of them and said they must be saved for necessary purposes.
So we went to bed in the dark and stretched out on our divans; Ethel and Eliza on one side, Henrietta next to me.
“This is a fine caper,” said Eliza.
“Who would have thought we should end up like this?”
And as we lay there listening to the rats scurrying across the floor, we were so exhausted that we were soon asleep.
During the next day I saw Charles Fenwick. He looked thinner and tired. We were busy cleaning our quarters, for the more we saw of the Barrack Hospital, the less desirable it seemed. Of course, Miss Nightingale had been right in ordering that before we could do anything we must clean up the place as best we could. It was an almost superhuman task and should have been done by degrees, but at least we could make a good start.
Charles had heard that we had arrived and came to see us. He took my hands and we looked at each other.
“So you are here?” he said.
“And Henrietta?”
“She is with me.”
“But you must be horribly shocked.”
I admitted that we were. We had not expected anything luxurious, but this . “It has that effect on us all. But you look well, Anna.”