Surgeon at Sea

'Thank you, Mr. Montmorency.'

'Pass the bottle round, gentlemen. As I was saying. The tail of the British lion has been severely put out of joint…'

He went on about the Old Red Duster, Free Trade, the Socialists, Nationalization, Hard Times, the necessity to pull together, put our shoulders to the wheel, steer a straight course, and not rock the boat. All of us were hazily wondering where the speech was leading him and uneasily contemplating our own guilty consciences. I nervously calculated the turnover in Easter's dockside pharmaceutical dealings, Hornbeam thought anxiously about his stevedores' presents, and Whimble was wondering how to account for the ham and two cases of tinned pears that had somehow vanished between Santos and the River Plate. But, if these skeletons were visible to the penetrating eye of Mr. Montmorency, he was not going to mention it. I suddenly realized he was saying…there will, of course, be a running buffet and the best we can do in the way of drinks. It will give the British colony here a bit of an outing, reassure the local businessmen, send up the prestige of the Line, and, in a small way, that of the Old Country. Besides, gentlemen, it will fittingly usher in the New Year. Any comments?'

McDougall, who had fallen asleep, woke up at the words 'New Year' and blew his nose loudly.

'A very generous offer,' Captain Hogg growled. 'On behalf of my officers and crew, I should like to express my gratitude to the management.'

'Thank you, Captain. Now, gentlemen, you are the senior officers. You know my plans, and I expect you to make it a success. This dance on shipboard must be remembered in Buenos Aires as one of the events of the season.'

A dance on shipboard…I saw at once Tissot's painting-matchwood decks, fragile rails, graceful bright brasswork; summery officers with downy whiskers; in gold and blue and white; clean sailors, contented bandsmen, delicate ladies in sprays of frills; frail parasols pirouetting beneath a canopy of the majestic ensigns of half a dozen now forgotten empires…Into this they were going to turn the Lotus, tied up by a meat works.

The news of the New Year's Eve Dance fell upon the ship's company like a heavy breaker on the beach, overwhelming the minor ripples already set up by our misfortunes in the Saratoga the previous night. Reactions to the party differed sharply. Easter was frankly disgusted.

'I ask you!' he said, coming into my cabin and tossing an armful of my clean laundry peevishly on the bunk. 'What a lash-up! Fags, fairy-lights, and ladies' lavatories! Cor! I dunno what they think this hooker is. The _Queen Mary_ isn't in it.'

'Surely, Easter, after your experience on the transatlantic boats you would welcome a touch of the atmosphere of a large liner?'

'What, on this old tramp? First-class smoke-room now, that's different. All the nobs in there getting stinko, not noticing you rook 'em on the measure. And slipping you a quid or two to show 'em the way to some young bit's cabin-discreet like. What are we going to get on this old tub? Crowd of shore-wallahs looking for free booze, that's what. Fat lot of good that is!'

'You may be able to interest some of them in the three-card trick.'

He brightened a little. 'I might, that, Doctor. But there ain't no flies on them round these parts.'

Trail was ecstatic. 'Have you seen this, Doc?' he called to me the next day, waving a sheet of typewritten paper. 'Lists of guests. Take a dekko. Don't bother with this lot, Ambassador, Bishop, and so on, asked but not able to come…Look here-Mister and Missus _and daughter._ Here _again-_and daughters._ All the way down-_Miss, Miss, Miss. Lovely grub! The ship'll be like a bloody harem by eight bells!'

'I don't think you ought to get over-excited, Three-o. The Misses are probably elderly ladies, pillars of the Mission, and the daughters will most likely be still in short frocks. In any event, you can be sure they'll be kept under strict supervision by their watchful parents on a ship like this.'

'Steady on, Doc! There's bound to be some nice bits of crumpet among them. I think I know this one down here, anyway. Used to work in the Company's offices on Corrientes.' He rubbed his hands. 'It's going to be a Happy New Year, and no mistake.'

Hornbeam was less enthusiastic. 'More work for the bloody Mate,' he said. 'Half the bunting's gone mouldy and the Bos'n flogged the canvas awnings in the Canaries last trip. How the hell can I get the boatdeck holystoned and painted in three days? I bet we're short of Scotch homeward bound on the strength of it, too.'

A state of despair settled on Whimble. The greater part of the preparations fell to him, and he was expected to account for everything issued from his stores from a crate of Scotch to a jar of Maraschino cherries. Tablecloths, fruit bowls, glasses, and silver came from half-forgotten straw nests in dusty crates stowed under hundredweights of flour, rice, tinned vegetables, and a case of Gordon's gin he had lost three voyages ago and had been anxiously cooking the bar books to replace ever since.

'Oh dear, oh dear,' he said, coming out of the store-room with his shirt stuck to his chest with sweat. 'Balloons they want now! Did you ever hear of it? I don't know what the office will say when we get home!'

The balloons were a whim of Captain Hogg's; he had taken an enthusiastic and forceful interest in the dance, and spent most of the day pacing up and down the boatdeck rearranging the deck furnishings and decorations.

'Mr. Whimble!' he shouted frequently. 'Mr. Whimble! Where the devil are you? I think the buffet would be better on the port side. Not so many flies. Get it changed over. What's happened to Mr. Hornbeam? Bos'n, take down number three awning and rig it abaft the funnel so the holes won't show. Mr. Trail, are you supposed to be in charge of lifeboats?'

'Yes, sir.'

'You aren't fit to sail a toy boat on a paddling pool. Get those ropes stowed properly.'

'Aye aye, sir.'

'Doctor!'

'Sir?'

'Flies, Doctor. The bluebottles from the meat works. They are a sanitary problem, are they not?'

'Yes, sir. Included in the syllabus for the examination in Public Health.'

'You are responsible for them. I don't want a damn fly on my ship by to-morrow night. Understand?'

'It's rather a tall order, sir.'

'That's your look out. Get some insect killer from Mr. Hornbeam. I don't care how you go about it, but there aren't to be any flies.'

'Very good, sir.'

I could find only enough insecticide for one spray-gun, and this I gave to Easter with instructions to pump it vigorously round the Captain every time he stepped on to the deck. This seemed to satisfy him. He left me alone until the evening before the party, when he called a conference of officers in his cabin.

'This is going to be a damn good party,' he began sternly. 'The office expects everyone to enjoy themselves, and it's bloody well up to you to see they do. Get me? Now listen to this.' He picked up a sheet of paper from the desk. 'These are the Master's orders for to-morrow night. One: uniform. Clean number tens, with correct epaulettes and white shoes. Collars to be correctly buttoned up.' He glared at McDougall, who came to supper comfortably in carpet slippers, with the high collar of his jacket wide enough apart to allow the dragon tattooed on his chest to peep coyly over his second brass button. 'Doctor, you will wear white ducks, white shirt, black tie.'

'And Company's Regulation Cap, sir?'

'If necessary. Two: Guests are to be met at the head of the gangway by Master and senior officers. See the quartermaster's in uniform and sober, Mr. Hornbeam.'

'Aye aye, sir.'

'Three: No ladies are on any account to be entertained in officers' cabins, or elsewhere than on the portions of the boatdeck assigned for that purpose.'