Surgeon at Sea

He stood up, spat a mouthful of blood in the sink and looked at me anxiously.

'Are you all right, Doctor?' he asked, 'Didn't hurt you, did I?'

'No, I think I'm all right,' I panted.

'Gawd, that's better! Merry Christmas, Doctor.'

The Bos'n walked contentedly aft, and I went to join my shipmates. There was an air of geniality on board, fostered not only by the season but the fact that Christmas was technically Sunday and therefore everyone had another half-day's pay.

After midday the officers were invited to Captain Hogg's cabin for drinks. Everyone came-even the Chief Engineer, who allowed his aversion for both the Captain and the foolish Sassenach custom of celebrating on December 25th to be overcome by his satisfaction of getting a free drink out of his enemy.

The Captain had already been setting himself in the mood for Christmas, and welcomed us with guarded geniality. We were all cleanly dressed and sober, except the Wireless Operator, who had already been having a party in his cabin with his own friends.

'Good morning, gentlemen, good morning!' Captain Hogg said, giving us a cold smile. 'Compliments of the season, gentlemen, on behalf of myself and the Company.'

'It was Christmas Day in the workhouse…' the Sparks began. Hornbeam clapped a hand over his mouth.

'Help me with the drinks, Mr. Whimble, will you? That's right. Pink gins all round, I suppose? Help yourselves to iced water, gentlemen. Here's to a Merry Christmas.'

'Same to you, sir!' everyone said, respectfully raising their glasses.

'…the Master called down the halls,' the Sparks continued. 'Did you like your Christmas dinner? And the inmates answered…'

Hornbeam shut him up again.

'I propose,' Captain Hogg said, glancing sternly round the company, 'on this solemn day in our year to make a short speech.'

There were murmurs of assent all round: he had as much risk of objection as Hitler ever had.

'This is my ship,' Captain Hogg went on. 'My ship. She is in my care, and so are the lives of all of you in her,' He took a swallow of gin. 'My ambition,' he continued, 'is to have a happy ship. Do you understand? That means that every damn one of you's got to knuckle under. This ship-my ship'-he waved his glass expansively-'is a floating village. We have our butcher, our baker, and our lamp-trimmer. We have our own storekeeper-even our own doctor.' This brought a roar of laughter and a round of applause. 'But I'-he hit his chest-'I am the squire of the village. Get that straight. Give me another gin, Mr. Whimble.'

'On this occasion,' he resumed, 'I look upon you all with a fatherly eye. All of you. I am proud of you. You are the best crew I've ever sailed with. You are-'

He stopped. He glared out of the porthole. His face twisted alarmingly. The Lotus had stopped.

'Mr. McDougall,' he hissed, 'the ship's stopped.'

McDougall didn't move.

'Aye,' he said.

'What is it?' Captain Hogg asked heavily. 'Are you celebrating Christmas so much down below that you have let the boilers go out?'

McDougall carefully drained his gin.

'We no celebrate these cissy festivals in my department. We save it up for Hogmanay.'

'So! You come up here and take my liquor-'

'And listen to an old windbag like you-'

'How dare you sir! I have never been insulted like that in all my years at sea!'

'All your years! I was on watch below when you were flying yellow at the mizzen.'

Captain Hogg shook a fist at him.

'I was in sail, sir!'

'You ought to have stayed there. You'd make a good barge skipper.'

'We didn't need engineers in those days,' Captain Hogg shouted.

'And in ten years' time we won't need captains.'

'Damn you, sir! I won't be talked to like this! I'll have you logged. I will. I mean it. I-'

'It was Christmas Day in the workhouse-' the Sparks began.

'Aw, go to hell!' McDougall said.

'Please, please!' cried Whimble.

'I've had enough of this, Mr. McDougall-!'

'And I've had more than enough-!'

'Steady the Buffs!' said Hornbeam jovially.

At that moment the Second Steward arrived and announced that dinner was served.

The saloon was decorated with dusty streamers that were produced every year, like the dinner menu, irrespective of the latitude in which the Lotus found herself. The English are the greatest colonizing race in the world, but they show a reluctance to part with their native habits in climates that render them highly unsuitable or even unhealthy. Wherever two Englishmen are together at Christmas the accustomed dinner must be eaten, in its full carbohydrate glory. The weather demanded a little salad and an ice cream, but we sat down and dutifully faced the full gastronomic trappings of the season-roast turkey, sausages, cold pork, roast beef, boiled cabbage, roast potatoes, mince pies, and Christmas pudding.

'We've got a nice veal and ham pie on as well, if you want any,' Whimble whispered in my ear as we went in.

All the officers off watch were crammed round the saloon table. Captain Hogg sat at the head, with McDougall opposite him. The Lotus shivered and started again, and they glared at each other over the tomato soup. Free whisky was given to all hands, and Whimble handed each officer a paper hat, with a plea not to crush it as they would have to make do for the following year.

I was cutting my first slice of turkey when Hornbeam, who was next to me, gave a nudge.

'Your man seems to want you,' he said.

Easter was standing sheepishly in the doorway.

I excused myself to Captain Hogg and went over to him.

'What is it?' I asked.

'Having a nice dinner, Doctor?'

'Well, if that's all you came to say…'

'There's been trouble in the poop.'

'Trouble? What sort of trouble?'

'Couple of the lads been fighting.'

'Oh, all right. Who are they?'

'Two of the stewards. Myrtle and Mavis.'

'Who did you say?'

Easter grinned. 'You'll find out,' he said.

Two tall, silky-haired young men who cleaned the cabins were sitting in the hospital. They were both covered in blood, and one was in tears.

'What the devil's been going on?' I asked the other.

His lip quivered and he, too, began to weep.

'Another little problem of the sea,' Easter remarked tolerantly. 'Them blokes as is a bit late making up their minds whether they're men or women.'

'Oh lord!' I said. 'What were they fighting about?'

'I didn't do it!' the first one cried. 'I swear on my honour I didn't!'

'Oh, yes you did!' the other shouted. 'You give it back at once, you mean thing!'

'How can I give it back if I haven't got it?'

'Yes you have! You've been trying to sneak it all the voyage!'

'I haven't got that beastly lipstick! It isn't my colour, anyway.'

They started pulling each other's hair.

'They're a bit queer,' Easter explained helpfully.

'Well, do something about them, man! Pour water on them! Get the Mate, and I'll have them logged.'

Easter hit one over the head with an arms-splint.

'Turn it up,' he said genially. 'It's Christmas.'

I put dressings on the unfortunate couple and went back to dinner. By that time everything had been eaten and Captain Hogg was on his feet again, making another speech.

'…I have said before,' he told the company, leaning on the table, 'and I say it again-I am proud of my crew. The crew of my ship. I shall put in my report to the Company that you are the best crew-'

His face clouded over. He snarled. The Lotus had stopped again.

Chapter Thirteen