Surgeon at Sea

I found an old pair of pharmacist's scales and a glass graduated in drachms, and started to make up the Captain's medicine. The first one turned into a pink putty, and was abandoned (it later came in useful for minor infections of the crew's feet). The second tasted strongly of peppermint but seemed adequate. I corked it and carried it up to the Captain's cabin.

I had not met Captain Hogg before. He had been ashore the previous night and he never came down for breakfast. When I had asked Hornbeam about him he replied unconvincingly, 'He has his good points.'

'What are they?' Trail asked gloomily.

I enquired what form Captain Hogg's malignity took.

'Oh, he thinks the sun shines out of his bottom,' Trail said. 'They all get like that. It's living alone too much that does it. They ought to be made to carry their wives with them to keep them under control.'

'The Old Man isn't married,' Hornbeam told him.

'Neither was his father,' Trail said.

I knocked on the cabin door.

'Enter!'

I went in.

Captain Hogg was of a curious shape. He was like a huge pear. From the sharp top of his bald head he came out gradually until the region of the umbilicus, from which point he spread abruptly in all directions. He was sitting in an armchair in his shirt-sleeves, his face obscured by the book he was reading. It was a periodical called _True Horrors,_ on the front of which a vivid blonde with an alarming bosom was struggling unsuccessfully with a gorilla, a man in a black mask, and her underclothes.

The book didn't move. I stood just inside the door, holding the medicine bottle in front of me like a talisman. He spoke:

'Well?'

I rubbed my right shoe slowly up my left calf.

'Doctor, sir,' I said.

The magazine came down. For a moment we stared at each other with interest. I thought he looked as friendly as a firing-squad.

'Ah!" he said.

I proffered the bottle.

'Your stomach mixture, sir.'

Either my prescribing or Dr. Flowerday's directions were at fault; perhaps the ship's drugs had degenerated with time. Some unplanned reaction occurred within the bottle. With a sharp pop the cork flew into the air.

'You may find this a little strong,' I said, picking up the cork quickly. 'I recommend taking it well diluted.'

He took the bottle silently and stood it on the desk beside him.

'Your cap,' he said. 'You have a cap?'

'Yes, sir. Company's regulation pattern.'

'Why aren't you wearing it?'

'I'm sorry sir, I-'

'The cap is worn on all official visits to the Captain. If I were asking you up here for a peg, that would be different. But I'm not. It's a matter of etiquette. There's no tramp ship stuff about this vessel. This is my ship, you understand, Doctor? My ship. If we get that straight we shall rub along splendidly together.'

'Yes, sir.'

I was a medical student again, before the Dean for filling the senior surgeon's rubber operating boots with iced water.

'Good. You haven't been to sea before?'

'No, sir.'

'You'll find the routine fairly simple, as far as you're concerned. You take your surgery at nine every morning, and at ten you bring me up a list of the sick on board and what's wrong with 'em. There's none of this damn medical secrecy nonsense at sea. I want to know all about them. I have to carry the can in the end. Understand?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. Then at eleven o'clock we inspect the ship-you wear your cap again. Dinner is at twelve-thirty and supper at six. Do you play cribbage?

'No, sir.'

He looked disappointed.

'Pity. The last Doctor played a good hand. Passes the tedium of the evenings at sea.' He indicated the magazine. 'I'm a great reading man myself, but I like a game of crib now and then.'

On a sudden thought he leant over and rummaged in the desk.

'I've got a book on it here. Read that through, then we might be able to have a few games.'

'Thank you, sir.'

He hesitated a moment, staring at the square toes of his shoes.

'Did you know Dr. Flowerday?' he asked.

'No, sir.'

'He was the last Doctor. Very good man. We all liked him very much. Unfortunately, he didn't know when to stop. I shouldn't like to see you go the same way. The Company might think there was something wrong with my ship.'

My mouth went dry.

'What-er, what happened to him, sir?'

Captain Hogg glanced at me, then returned to inspecting his toes.

'Of course, a man's entitled to think what he likes,' he said forcefully. 'I'm a respecter of anyone's opinions. But there are limits, Doctor. Limits.'

'Yes, sir.'

'You've never thought you were somebody else, for instance? Have you, Doctor?'

'No, sir. I-I can't recall doing so.'

'Well, there you are. It happens sometimes at sea. I've seen some of the best of fellows get taken that way. I remember when I first went Mate, the Third thought he was Cleopatra. Very awkward it was for all hands.'

'I can see it would be, sir.'

'But Dr. Flowerday had a weakness. I tell you in strict confidence, Doctor.'

'Of course, sir.'

It appeared that my predecessor, after having drunk two bottles of gin a day for several years in the service of the Lotus, got religion shortly after leaving Singapore, and extinguished himself one night in the Indian Ocean through the mistaken impression that he had the rightful ability to walk upon the water.

Chapter Three

The Lotus sailed, to the surprise of her crew, three days later. We spent the time tethered to the quay, loading heavy packing-cases from railway trucks. It was an interesting performance. The cases were raised to the level of the ship's deck, drawn horizontally inwards, and lowered into the holds. This was done with the derricks and steam winches, each set manned by a gang of Liverpool dockers, who went about their work with the leisurely decorum of the House of Lords considering an unimportant Bill on a hot afternoon.

There was a docker at each winch, and the rest of them worked either down the hold or on the quay. Each gang was controlled by a man in a long overcoat and a bowler hat, who directed their activities with the economy of gesture of an experienced bidder at an auction. The twitch of a little finger, an inclination of the head, the drop of an eyelid, and four tons of crated machinery went spinning through the air and down the hatch as cleanly as a holed-out golf ball.

The stowage of the cargo was supervised by the Mates, under the directions of Archer. He had his bunk covered with cargo manifests, bills of lading, and plans of the ship with the different merchandise coloured in with crayon.

'The Second gets the thin end of it,' he said. 'He's always cargo officer. Too much work in it for me.'

'But it looks fairly simple. Don't you just go on putting the stuff in until the ship's full?'

'Haven't you ever packed a case for a holiday? The things you want first always seem to be at the bottom. If that happened in the ship there'd be trouble. You can't tip everything out.'

'I see what you mean.'

'Besides, there's the trim of the ship to think about. There's more in cargo than meets the eye.'

He looked at his plan. 'Nos 1 and 4 are full, but there's plenty of room in 2 and 3. We'll be here a week yet, you can bet on that.'

But orders, based on some deep calculation in the Fathom Line offices, came for us to sail. Twenty-four hours later, in the morning, the Lotus left.