Doctor at Sea

attached to it.
    ‘Oh, dear!’ Whimble said.
    ‘Is it yours?’ the Captain thundered.
    ‘Oh, no, sir! I’ve never seen it before, sir.’
    Captain Hogg thrust his napkin forward.
    ‘Put it in that!’ he commanded. The teeth, in a pool of gravy, were wrapped up.’ I am taking this up to my cabin and stowing it in the safe. I am then showing it to the general manager the minute we arrive in Liverpool. By God, I’ll see you pay for this, Mr Whimble!’ Shaking his fist he left the saloon, pausing to shout an order for cold ham and pickles in his cabin. We sat in silence, the pie going cold in front of us. Whimble tried to take a drink of water, but he was shaking so much he spilled it over the cloth.
    ‘I don’t think I want any more,’Hornbeam said, pushing his plate away. ’Whose are they, Doc? Yours?’
    ‘They’re probably the Cook’s. He’s been a bit forgetful this morning.’
    ‘Har!‘ Whimble croaked. ’The Cook!’ He jumped from the table, eager to pass on his castigation. The gentle, easy-going Cook, who filched tins of ham and corned beef through Whimble’s good graces, was the only person on board whom he could bully. Pausing only to clean his teeth on the way, he confidently made for the galley.
    But it was a changed Cook whom he found sitting on the potato locker with a gin-bottle, crooning to himself. He saw the accident in a different light. Before Whimble could say anything he was gripped by the shirt, a chopping-knife pointed at his throat, and the Cook demanded’ Give me my bloody teeth back!’
    Whimble broke away with a shout that brought us all from the saloon. We found him running down the deck chased by the Cook, who had his knife in his hand and was wearing a frightening toothless snarl.
    ‘Murder!’ Whimble shouted.
    The Cook was not steady on his feet, fell over a stay, and burst into tears. But Whimble had no time to see this. His only thoughts were of self-protection, and he decided the unpleasantness represented by Captain Hogg was less than that embodied in the Cook. He jumped up the ladder leading to the bridge and hammered on the door of the Captain’s cabin.
    ‘Help!’ he cried. ‘Save me!’
    The door was flung open.
    ‘What the blazes is the matter with you?’
    ‘Look,’ said Whimble, pointing behind him.
    ‘Are you mad!’
    ‘The Cook’s after me with a knife!’ he whimpered, calming at the sight of Captain Hogg.’ He wants his teeth back.’
    ‘Teeth! Teeth! Did you say teeth? Get off my bridge!’
    ‘He’ll murder me!’
    ‘Get off my bridge, damn you!’
    ‘Give me the Cook’s teeth first!’
    Captain Hogg picked Whimble up by his shirt collar and gave him a push. He uttered a little squeal as he lost his balance at the top of the ladder and came sliding down feet first. At that moment the steward was mounting it with the Captain’s tray of ham and pickles.
    ‘There goes our supper,’ Hornbeam said gloomily. After that no one thought it worth while finishing the meal.

8

    THE next morning my professional tranquillity was split like an old sail in a storm.
    I had settled down in my cabin after breakfast to read War and Peace, with which I first killed three or four cockroaches, when Easter came in. He showed me a new card trick and described the occasion when he was steward on a Greek tramp and had won from the skipper, an incorrigible but luckless gambler, as a final stake one night in the Mediterranean the exclusive services of his stout but agreeable wife until Gibraltar.
    ‘There’s something, Doctor,’ Easter went on. ‘one of the crew took queer in the night.’
    ‘What’s wrong with him?’
    ‘Vomiting and suchlike. Shall I chase him up here?’
    ‘I think we’d better pay a domiciliary visit.’
    The patient was a young deckhand. He was lying on his bunk, holding his abdomen and groaning.
    ‘Good morning,’ I said briskly, taking his pulse.’ What’s the trouble?’
    5 Aw, cripes! I got the bellyache something horrid.’
    ‘Just let me have a look at the - er, stomach.’
    He stretched himself on his back. I reached out a hand and felt the right-hand quadrant of his abdomen. Immediately I felt as if I had eaten a bunch of safety-pins and they had all opened inside at once.
    I dragged Easter outside the door and shut it. ‘Easter,’ I said hoarsely. ’This man has acute appendicitis.’
    ‘Cor!’
    ‘This is urgent. How far are we out of Santos?’
    ‘About two days, the Mate reckons.’
    ‘Well, we must